Scan barcode
A review by merricatct
The Wake by Paul Kingsnorth
5.0
Incredible. This was one of those happy random finds on a random book list - something about the description prompted me to bump it up to the top of my TBR list, and I'm so glad I did.
First things first, the language. I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but it's hard to miss the fact that you open the book to the first page and are confronted with the author's "shadow version" of Old English. (Should that be "sceadu virsin"?) It's intimidating at first, and there is certainly effort required to make sense of what's written. The author helps you out a little by including an incomplete glossary in the back for the more obscure or impossible-to-recognize words ("fnaerettan" = snoring, "scramasax" = dagger, and my favorite, "wyrmfleage" = dragonfly), but most of the time the words either need to be sounded out phonetically or interpreted based on the context.** It does get easier as the book goes on - I began to recognize familiar letter patterns or words. At first, the "sc" combination being used for "sh" sounds was a killer, but eventually I'd see "sceap" and KNOW that it was actually "sheep" and not "skeep" like my modern-English ears wanted to hear. I got a real feeling of excitement and accomplishment from puzzling out the language and putting it all together! My six year old is at the stage of sounding out words, and reading this book reminded me of how much work it is to not only sound out words, but remember them and put them together in a multi-step process. I love that I've been given the opportunity to truly appreciate the gift of reading comprehension, instead of taking it for granted after so many years.
The language isn't just a chance for linguistic exercises, however - it's a vital part of this story. Old English is a hard, stripped-down, limited language, and a story told in such a confining tongue snaps you instantly into the world of Buccmaster of Holland. A world of subsistence farming, rigid social roles, superstition, and desperate survival. There's no fancy word play or metaphors or gentle sweeps of description to lull you - there is only Buccmaster's bitter, hate-filled thoughts and the brutal world he inhabits.
The description on the back of the book states that this is the story of the apocalypse from 1000 years ago, and this is true. Buccmaster's world is ending as a result of the invasion of 1066 and the repression that follows, and as he spirals further into paranoia and rage, you feel his desperation in every ground-out word. The desperation of someone who's lost everything he had and everything he was, and is now watching his country lose not only its fight against the invading "ingenga" outsiders, but its "aeld gods" against the "crist" as well. Buccmaster is a truly unlikable character, but he's also a product of his time, and his hypocrisy (hating his father for beating him when he beats his own wife and children) speaks just as much about the world he inhabits as it does about him.
I don't think this book is for everyone, but if you like a little challenge, go for it. I hope it enriches you as much as it did me!
---
** an example of the book's language and my version following:
of this haeric star i was specan but my grandfather a great tall man he
was hwit beard hwit haer his own sweord all on the beam of his hus what
becum my hus. he wolde spec micel of the eald daegs of the anglisc of
our folcs cuman here to these grene lands from across the wid sea. and
those daegs he wolde always sae those daegs was best for our folc for we
was as one agan the ingenga and we was free. no thegns there was then
no preosts no crist no cyng of angland but free men alone in the wilde
tacan the land men in freodom not in thrall.
Of this comet I was speaking, but my grandfather - a great tall man he
was, white beard and white hair, with his own sword on the beam of his house,
which became my house - he would speak much of the old days of the English.
Of our folk coming here to these green lands from across the wide sea. And
those days, he would always say, those days were the best for our folk, for we
were as one against the outsiders, and we were free. No lords there were, then;
no priests, no Christ, no king of England, but free men alone in the wild,
taking the land. Men in freedom, not in thrall.
First things first, the language. I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but it's hard to miss the fact that you open the book to the first page and are confronted with the author's "shadow version" of Old English. (Should that be "sceadu virsin"?) It's intimidating at first, and there is certainly effort required to make sense of what's written. The author helps you out a little by including an incomplete glossary in the back for the more obscure or impossible-to-recognize words ("fnaerettan" = snoring, "scramasax" = dagger, and my favorite, "wyrmfleage" = dragonfly), but most of the time the words either need to be sounded out phonetically or interpreted based on the context.** It does get easier as the book goes on - I began to recognize familiar letter patterns or words. At first, the "sc" combination being used for "sh" sounds was a killer, but eventually I'd see "sceap" and KNOW that it was actually "sheep" and not "skeep" like my modern-English ears wanted to hear. I got a real feeling of excitement and accomplishment from puzzling out the language and putting it all together! My six year old is at the stage of sounding out words, and reading this book reminded me of how much work it is to not only sound out words, but remember them and put them together in a multi-step process. I love that I've been given the opportunity to truly appreciate the gift of reading comprehension, instead of taking it for granted after so many years.
The language isn't just a chance for linguistic exercises, however - it's a vital part of this story. Old English is a hard, stripped-down, limited language, and a story told in such a confining tongue snaps you instantly into the world of Buccmaster of Holland. A world of subsistence farming, rigid social roles, superstition, and desperate survival. There's no fancy word play or metaphors or gentle sweeps of description to lull you - there is only Buccmaster's bitter, hate-filled thoughts and the brutal world he inhabits.
The description on the back of the book states that this is the story of the apocalypse from 1000 years ago, and this is true. Buccmaster's world is ending as a result of the invasion of 1066 and the repression that follows, and as he spirals further into paranoia and rage, you feel his desperation in every ground-out word. The desperation of someone who's lost everything he had and everything he was, and is now watching his country lose not only its fight against the invading "ingenga" outsiders, but its "aeld gods" against the "crist" as well. Buccmaster is a truly unlikable character, but he's also a product of his time, and his hypocrisy (hating his father for beating him when he beats his own wife and children) speaks just as much about the world he inhabits as it does about him.
I don't think this book is for everyone, but if you like a little challenge, go for it. I hope it enriches you as much as it did me!
---
** an example of the book's language and my version following:
of this haeric star i was specan but my grandfather a great tall man he
was hwit beard hwit haer his own sweord all on the beam of his hus what
becum my hus. he wolde spec micel of the eald daegs of the anglisc of
our folcs cuman here to these grene lands from across the wid sea. and
those daegs he wolde always sae those daegs was best for our folc for we
was as one agan the ingenga and we was free. no thegns there was then
no preosts no crist no cyng of angland but free men alone in the wilde
tacan the land men in freodom not in thrall.
Of this comet I was speaking, but my grandfather - a great tall man he
was, white beard and white hair, with his own sword on the beam of his house,
which became my house - he would speak much of the old days of the English.
Of our folk coming here to these green lands from across the wide sea. And
those days, he would always say, those days were the best for our folk, for we
were as one against the outsiders, and we were free. No lords there were, then;
no priests, no Christ, no king of England, but free men alone in the wild,
taking the land. Men in freedom, not in thrall.