Brittany's Book Corner

'Grendel' is an introduction to literary esotericism

John Gardner's novel “Grendel” is often a high school senior's initiation into the world of literary esotericism; it certainly was for me.

After years of reading classics like Homer and Shakespeare (or, occasionally, the questionable modern remix of a classic such as Frank Beddor's “The Looking Glass Wars”), students seemed to approach Gardner's experimental writing in one of two ways: dramatically sludging through it only to ignore its existence in the required reading canon later or embracing it for all of its unique avant-garde eccentricity.

As someone who fell into the latter category, I realized very quickly it is a choice to love “Grendel.” It is certainly not easy to digest, and my class discussions did little to ease the burden. “Grendel,” though, is much less about the act of reading than the act of responding to what you've read.

At only 174 pages, the story is easily finished, but it never really leaves its reader. After unraveling its complexity, there is a truly emotional undertone to the story of Grendel that can resonate with practically everyone: at the heart of it, Grendel is just another person that longs for love and belonging but is thwarted at every turn.

It is difficult not to read “Grendel” without comparing it to Mary Shelley's “Frankenstein.” The parallels are hard to ignore: the religious implications of monstrosity, the sympathetic perspective of traditionally reviled monsters, extreme isolation and the horrors of human hatred.

However, Gardner puts a genuinely modern spin on what could have otherwise been a classic medieval retelling of the first science fiction novel. Where Shelley focuses on the subtle religious implications of Frankenstein's actions and the necessary subjugation of his monster, Gardner totally embraces the perspective of Grendel with a heavy emphasis on literary artistry.

The book is filled with seemingly random instances of foreign languages and poetry, and there is even a point where the main narrative is set aside to focus entirely on other characters through an abstraction of a dramatic script.

Even though this point of the novel is not focused on its titular character, it may just be the most poignant and touching part of the story simply because it represents everything that is unavailable to someone like Grendel.

Having read “Grendel” before “Beowulf”, it quickly became clear to me I would not have loved the poem nearly as much if it were not for Gardner's novel.

I was first enticed by the haunting illustrations, but I remained for the hot-blooded displays of drama and emotion exhibited by every character and, occasionally, the author himself.

Now, “Grendel” remains the most foundational source of inspiration for me as an aspiring writer. I have not reread it fully since I was a senior in high school, but I can recite some of its poems and retell its story as if it were my own.

There will always be people coming back to “Grendel” for guidance, and for good reason. As Grendel says, "Nihil ex nihilo." So, it goes.