We all know a boy can't daddy until his daddy's dead.

I'll admit this is my first time reading a translation of Beowulf, but I think I picked a good one to start with. This reads like a labour of love from Maria Dahvana Headley, and a lot of thought had been put into the translation and how the story is presented to the reader.

In the introduction, Headley states that Beowulf is a poem between brothers, commrades and close friends all trying to outdo each other with tales of daring over many, many pints. It's a poem that shouts from the rooftops, mixing every emotion possible within its verses - and I think Headley goes a great job at showcasing this. It uses a mix of contemporary slang (never did I expect to find phrases like 'hashtag blessed' and 'brass balls' in a classics translation) and classic phrases and literary methods to maintain the feel of the story and it's setting, yet making it accessible and fresh. The use of alliteration that is repeated throughout is especially clever, helping the text to flow and linking the story together. I also love the way Headley has interpreted Grendel's mother as the true warrior single mother she is. She's easily a match for Beowulf. He just had luck in his side.

I will say that the story itself isn't amazing, and there's a lot of repetition as we hear a story once and then it's repeated again to another group of people. However, I can appreciate this for the important text it is, and the seeds of influence it's had on other classic fantasy stories. This is a fantastic translation for those new to the story of Beowulf, and opens the door to a text that might otherwise feel intimidating.

I've never read Beowulf so i went into this new translation blind. I did like how it was written and the way the changes were made to this. The story was exciting and thrilling and kept the old world feeling that the original had.

You know those books that you finish and immediately want to read again? That, for me, was The Kingdoms. And, yes, I did go back and reread it a day later. And, no, I still don’t know how I’m supposed to review this book.

I’m almost certain I said, after reading The Lost Future of Pepperharrow in February, that that was my favourite Natasha Pulley book. I’m fairly certain I said similar after finishing The Bedlam Stacks previously. So, this statement may not stand the test of time but I’ll say it anyway: The Kingdoms is my favourite Natasha Pulley book.

I definitely believe that it’s her best book yet, at least. It has an added punch to it that the others did not, as much as I did still love them. In part, I think that was the setting. In part, it was a lot more visceral and raw than previous books. Those had a gentleness to them that, while it wasn’t lacking here, it was less prevalent. I don’t know if I’m phrasing this in at all an understandable way — I just have a lot of feelings about this book and not many words.

Where Pulley’s other books are somewhat fabulist, this is solidly more on the science fiction end of things, involving time travel, changing the course of history, and other such things. We follow Joe, a man who, at the start of the book, has had a sudden onset of amnesia, who doesn’t know anything beyond his name and the moment he is currently living in. Then he receives a postcard that has been held for him for over 90 years, showing a picture of a lighthouse up in the Outer Hebrides. When, a few years later, the opportunity arises for him to travel to that lighthouse, he does so. Which is when strange things start to happen.

I think one of my favourite things about this book is the slow unspooling of the plot, which is typical of Pulley’s books, but works all the better here. Joe doesn’t know who he is, although Kite and Agatha seem to, so you don’t know who he is (although you have your suspicions. Actually one of the best things about rereading it was seeing the clues to the reveal all laid out, once you knew where to look). And when you get to the reveal, you think back and you think oh and it makes total sense (and also becomes about a thousand times more painful).

And, as ever, it’s a very character-driven novel. Possibly the balance is a little shifted, so that there is more plot driving it too, but it’s still very much focused on the characters. It definitely then helps that I loved the characters (okay, well, loved the characters I was supposed to love, because you aren’t catching me feeling the slightest bit positive about Lord Lawrence any time soon!), most notably Joe and Kite. I think it definitely helps though, with the latter, that you do get chapters in his POV. At times, on the first read, before I knew everything, he frustrated me, but those chapters helped (and the reveal… going back and re-evaluating it all).

I think, then, overall this is a book that, if you already loved Natasha Pulley, you will love this one. If this is your first introduction to Natasha Pulley, I think it’s an excellent one to start with.





Earlier this year, I read Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf and, in all honesty, it didn’t really stick with me. Maria Dahvana Headley’s, however, absolutely did, and even made me laugh out loud once or twice.

To be honest, my favourite part of any translation, particularly translations of classics, is the translator’s note. Maybe it’s an extension of my linguistics degree, but I love hearing just how the translator went about the translation, where and how they decided to deviate from previous translations, and why, and just discussions of choices of words. And here, I genuinely would have read a whole book-long translator’s note (similarly when I read Emily Wilson’s Odyssey translation a few months ago).

So, bearing in mind that I have only read the two translations of Beowulf, what I loved in this one was that it modernised the text, while staying true to it. Headley talks about this in the introduction, specifically her choice to use “bro” instead of something like “hark”, but I think that’s the primary reason I connected more with the story this time around. Modernising the text makes it a whole lot more accessible, and you don’t feel like you’re trogging through it at all. It’s a whole lot more fun to read.

So really, all I have to say more is that, if you want to pick up Beowulf and you don’t know which translation to start with, do yourself a favour and skip straight to this one.

Headley has crafted a translation of Beowulf that is dynamic, fast-moving (in the first 60% or so, but the slowing down is the original poem, not the translator's effect), thrilling in places and which has some glorious renderings of Old English into a contemporary language that still contains rhythm, alliteration (so hard, that!) and a balance to the metre: 'He hurled the sword: / useless hoard-gilt. Let it shatter in the silt. / He'd fight like a man, and take her hand to hand, / his fingertips blueprinting her skin.'

But I'm not sure what renders this a 'feminist' translation as blurbed? Headley is certainly aware of the gendered nature of this heroic tale but surely that's nothing new? She humanises Grendel's mother and makes her a warrior woman rather than a monster which works well but as a character, she doesn't get more than, at a guess, a few hundred lines at most in the poem. Headley does draw attention to the wiping out of women as individuals in some history and literature: 'And I hear he hand-clasped his daughter / (her name's a blur) to Onela' - that blurred name a sharp contrast to the heroic naming of Grendel and Beowulf himself. And the dragon becomes female. But is that all it takes to make this 'feminist'?

More prominent is the masculinised language of the text to foreground the way in which the world of the poem is ideologically founded on male homosociality - again, surely not a new insight? 'Bro!' is the opening word and, personally, I found this a bit too obvious especially since it is spoken by the bard or poet-narrator who thus becomes assimilated to the warrior-brotherhood of the characters. It also might be perceived as alienating female readers: where do we place ourselves in this world if even the teller of the heroic tale can only envisage a masculine audience for his words?

Some of the other word choices didn't work for me: the switching of registers from, for example, 'Dude, this was what they call a blood feud' (though love that dude/feud rhyme!), or 'Anyone who fucks with the Geats? Bro, they have to fuck with me' (great for a school classroom?), or 'Meanwhile, Beowulf gave zero shits' to the more formal tones of 'Grendel was the name of this woe-walker' or 'war was the wife Hrothgar wed first' (see, great alliteration) felt jarring to my ear. And, unfortunately, I couldn't help giggling at 'Beowulf knew he was a goner'... On the other hand, I loved the sly mischief of the dragon sleeping on her bed which is 'a treasure: a pile of preciouses' - wonderful!

Despite some misgivings, then, solely around some of the word choices, overall I'd say this is an engaging, accessible and wonderfully readable translation that thrusts us through the story, and it's particularly one which I'd recommend for schools or general readers - and if it sends more people back to Beowulf, then brilliant!

This was absolutely fascinating. I've always found the idea of multiple translations of a work really interesting, and my favourite part of this book was Maria's breakdown of her reasons for making the choices she did. It taught me a lot, not just about Old English, but about poetry in general. Her modern take on tone really ticked all the boxes for me. These kinds of oral traditions would have read as very popular entertainment for the masses, and the writing style really drew me into that perspective very well. I now desperately need a copy for my shelves!