The Old English epic poem Beowulf is set in a pre-Christian world, but was written by a Christian author. This creates a complicated mix between pagan and Christian elements that are present in the poem, and scholars have debated how to understand the religiosity of the poem without coming to a clear consensus. This article will attempt to sort through how to think about Beowulf and religion.

The Pagan Setting

The epic poem Beowulf takes place in a pagan world. The Geats, Danes, Swedes, and other peoples that surround the North Sea in the poem inhabit a land that has not yet been touched by the Christianity that had spread for centuries under the Roman Empire. Yet, Christianity is an important presence in the poem. It enters the poem through the anonymous author, who makes it clear to us that he is a Christian.

Religious and spiritual practices are not explicitly described in Beowulf. Yet a pagan aesthetic dominates the poem, and we can get a sense of a pre-Christian worldview from the characters. The pre-Christian character of the world is specifically confirmed by the poet in a stark line in which it is said that “Almighty they knew not.”

The place of religion in Beowulf is a highly contested and uncertain topic. Explicit references to the pre-Christian practices of the characters combine with frequent allusions that the characters make to a God that sounds very much like the monotheistic Christian God. The pagan historical context of the poem’s origins contrasts with the fact that the author was certainly Christian. These contrasts leave us in an uncertain place.

Neither study of the context of the poem’s composition nor study of the content of the poem itself provides a clear sense as to the place or the nature of religion and spirituality in Beowulf.

Themes and Ethos

If there is a moral strain that runs through the poem, it is not an ethos typically associated with Christianity and its teachings. Beowulf’s greatness and his heroism come from his martial prowess and his desire for glory and fame. Though there are some comparisons that can be made between the poem’s protagonist and Jesus Christ, the poet does not shy away from the point that Beowulf’s heroism is a product of his violent strength and not of his suffering. The inflexible logic of the blood-feud is also central to Beowulf. That the violent death of one’s kin must and will be met with retributory violence and war is taken as natural.

Moreover, Beowulf does not seek to reject vanity or worldly goods like a typical Christian saint. Beowulf triumphs in the treasures and weaponry that he wins from his battles with the monsters. He glories in his own strength and martial prowess, extolling his own heroism to others and basking in others’ praise of him. The poet does not condemn this. Indeed, the final line of the poem eulogizes the dead Beowulf as “the keenest for fame.”

Yet, whether the centrality of violence and feud in the poem represents a genuinely pre-Christian ethos, preserved by the poet, or whether it reflects the Christian martial culture that remained central in northern Europe throughout the early Middle Ages is unclear. The frequent references to God that are made by characters throughout the poem could suggest that the poet is actually conveying the sensibilities of his own time in the 8th or 9th centuries AD, rather than conveying any kind of pagan understanding of morality and the divine.

Moreover, Beowulf’s fight with demonic monsters is not difficult to interpret in a Christian framework. Heroic figures fighting and banishing demons and devils have been a constant theme in Christian literature over the centuries. Beowulf’s dramatic sacrificial death after defeating the Dragon and saving his people has unmistakable resonances with the death of Jesus. Meanwhile, Hrothgar, king of the Danes, fits neatly into the mold of an aged patriarch who counsels Beowulf in ways that are reminiscent of a sermon.

The “Heathen Poem” Interpretation

Victorian scholars tended to dismiss the religious language in parts of the poem as essentially window-dressing by the Christian poet added onto what was essentially a pagan, pre-Christian tale. This view emphasizes that the frequent uses of the term “God” in the poem are vague enough in their context not to have to be referring to the Christian God, and could easily be replaced with a word such as “fate” and have the same meaning. It also stresses the extent to which themes that are central to Christianity (such as Christ, the cross, the trinity, etc.) are not mentioned at all.

Perhaps most controversially from a modern perspective, this theory views the parts of the poem in which unmistakably Christian references are made as later glosses to the core text of the poem. Thus, there is a core pre-Christian story, and a later poet, or poets, who wrote the poem down, added the Christian elements on top of the heathen core. Most later scholars have rejected this theory, seeing the poem as a single work rather than a text that has been glossed by later Christian authors.

This theory was largely replaced in the later 20th century by the so-called “dramatic irony thesis,” which suggests a gulf between the narrator and the characters. The former can comprehend a spiritual dimension to the actions of Beowulf and his battles with the monsters, but the characters themselves are ignorant of this higher significance amidst their heathen conception of the world.

This interpretation is supported by a section of the poem in which the poet describes the reaction of the Danes to the assaults of Grendel upon their hall, Heorot. The poet states:

“They prayed aloud, promising sometimes, on the altars of their idols unholy sacrifices (…) Such was their practice, a heathen hope; Hell possessed their hearts and minds: the Maker was unknown to them (…) the Almighty was unheard of “ (translation by Michael Alexander).

This passage suggests a profound disconnect between the poem’s narrator and the characters and the world that he is narrating. One can then interpret the frequent references to God by the poem’s protagonists as the poet’s insertion, who uses the vague term “God” as a stand-in to represent the characters’ essentially pre-Christian understanding of the divine. This would make sense considering the fact that Christian writers in the Early Medieval Period rarely make reference to pagan gods or beliefs in any kind of detail.

The Christian understanding possessed by the poet is also demonstrated in a line about a third of the way through the poem. The narrator reminds his listeners that God “guided then the dealings of mankind, as he does even now,” suggesting that, whether or not Beowulf and his comrades were aware, the Christian God was overseeing their actions and guiding their battles.

The poet makes a point of demonstrating the limits of the characters’ knowledge at other times as well. Most notably, when describing Grendel’s approach to Heorot, where Beowulf lies in wait, the poet foreshadows that Grendel will meet his fate in the coming encounter.

A Christian Poem?

However, there is a different interpretation that views the entire poem as deeply influenced by a Christian ethic, to the extent that Beowulf and the other characters themselves are essentially Christian figures.

It is striking the extent to which Beowulf calls upon God in a way akin to a saint from a medieval hagiography (i.e., the life of a saint). He does so before his fight with Grendel, and after his fight with the Dragon, and at various points throughout the poem, he thanks God for his good fortune. It is also worth noting the context in which Beowulf was written. Saints’ lives were extremely popular in early-medieval England and had great influence in literary circles at that time.

Another notably religious character is Hrothgar, king of the Danes. Hrothgar talks to Beowulf about God and warns him not to indulge in arrogance and worldly gain, in a speech that is reminiscent of a Christian sermon. When Beowulf first arrives at Heorot, Hrothgar thanks the grace of “Holy God” for sending Beowulf to the Danes, reinforcing the idea that characters within the poem might understand people and events as being guided by a single deity.

Even background characters are often spoken of as though they were in touch with a Christian understanding of their world. In describing the death of the despairing king of the Geats, Hrethel, the poet states that he “chose God’s light.” Do we infer from this that a king whom we would assume to be pagan actually had an understanding of the poet’s Christian God somehow? Or is the poet simply speaking in Christianized language in the absence of an understanding of pagan spirituality?

It is also important to note how often the poet emphasizes Grendel’s lineage from Cain in the Old Testament. Grendel’s ostracism from society is explained as originating from when his ancestor Cain “warred with God.” That Grendel is a descendant of the fratricidal biblical character is one of the only things that the poet tells us about the monster’s background and origins. But if we see the poet as framing Beowulf as a saintly Christian hero, then Grendel’s origins, coming from one of the foundational sins of mankind in the Bible, add a spiritual dimension to their conflict that a contemporary Christian audience would have appreciated.

A Complicated Picture

Some writers have suggested that the Beowulf poet expresses a common sentiment in medieval literature, which is the curiosity as to whether pagan heroes of the past have a chance at eternal salvation. Perhaps the poet wants to believe that some virtuous pagans might be able to attain eternal salvation, and toys with the idea that men like Beowulf and Hrothgar might have their souls saved, despite living in a pre-Christian North Sea world.

Debate around the place of religion and Christianity in Beowulf will continue. Part of what makes the epic poem so appealing is its enigmatic character, its refusal to be fit perfectly with any one theme or concept. It is a shifting, complicated story whose characters can seem at once pagan heroes of old, and yet also Christianized figures who engage in a spiritual battle with demonic evil. The poet is one of the greatest mysteries. Is this narrator shaping the narrative themselves, or simply telling a pre-existing story? What is the distance between the poet and the characters that they explore? Is the Christian poet crafting a Christian story? Or are they preserving pagan folklore?

Every reader will decide for themselves how to interpret the spiritual aspects of Beowulf. The poem retains its hold on our imagination today precisely because it crafts a world that defies easy interpretation and forces us to immerse ourselves in its mysteries and explore its murky depths.

Sylvia Plath is often reduced to her dramatic biography, but she should be known not for her complicated relationship with her father, her tempestuous marriage to a fellow poet, and her eventual suicide, but rather for her poetry itself—poetry of tremendous range and accomplishment, of experimentation and mastery, of exquisite and often painful beauty and rage. This list of seven must-read poems gives an overview of the particularly fertile years of 1958-1962, providing brief summaries of the poems’ subjects and some of the potential meanings behind them.

1. Full Fathom Five, 1958

“Full Fathom Five” is a sea-drenched poem, William Shakespeare’s The Tempest and Greek myths of Poseidon mixed into one. Most likely about her father, or men in general, the poem is of an “Old man” who surfaces with his “white hair” and “white beard,” whose face is of “archaic trenched lines.” He is an “old myth of origins / Unimaginable.” The “dangers are many,” but even though Plath sees that he is suffering, dying perhaps, she is wary. He is rooted deep in the earth, and she only feels safe exiled to his “kingdom’s border.”

Plath compares her father to the ancient sea god of Poseidon in order to suggest his power, inscrutability, and inexorable sway over her. Yet in this poem, as compared to “Daddy,” she is a bit more removed, even cool in her tone (albeit still cautious about his tidal pull). It’s not surprising that she chose the god of the sea for the comparison, as she loved the ocean and spent her summers on the North Atlantic coast, which she associated with her father. In remembrance of this period and Otto Plath’s death, she said: “And this is how it stiffens, my vision of that seaside childhood. My father died, we moved inland. Whereon those nine first years of my life sealed themselves off like a ship in a bottle…”

2. The Colossus, 1959

Another poem usually interpreted as being about her father, “The Colossus” is a grotesque portrait of a man who loomed too large for her. She depicts him as a huge statue who is pieced and patched together, loud and obnoxious utterances issuing from his lips. He thinks himself “an oracle, / Mouthpiece of the dead, or of some god or other.” She’s spent her life climbing over him, spending her days eating her lunch “on a hill of black cypress,” and squatting at night in the “cornicopua / Of your left ear, out of the wind.” Like “Daddy,” she addresses the poem to him, her tone searing, a meld of revulsion and attraction.

Plath’s father died when she was eight. He was a biology professor who studied bees and was quite intelligent, but he refused to get appropriate medical treatment for his diabetes and eventually developed gangrene and sepsis. Plath wrote of him in her diary, “I adored and despised him, and I probably wished many times that he were dead. When he obliged me and died, I imagined that I had killed him.” While she obviously didn’t control how and when he died, she was able to write poetry in order to work through her complex emotions.

3. Tulips, 1960

“Tulips” is set in a hospital room, where a bouquet of bright red tulips has been delivered. Rather than being a welcome surprise, they’re “too excitable” for the white, sterile room. Plath is a cipher, having given up her “name and my day-clothes to the nurses / And my history to the anestheist and my body to the surgeons.” She’s been “swabbed clear of my loving associations,” but she isn’t exactly upset about it. In fact, she notes that the “peacefulness is so big it dazes you” and that she feels free. Nothing is asked of her; she simply wants to  be “utterly empty.” Yet here the flowers are, and they’re watching her. She can hear them breathing “like an awful baby,” “their sudden tongues and their colour” upsetting her. Now they come between her and the sun in the window that once blurred her in its brightness, now they “eat [her] oxygen.” The room is warmer, her concentration is on them. She can feel her heart now, and she decides the tulips “should be behind bars like a dangerous animal.”

Ted Hughes, Plath’s husband from whom she later became estranged, has said that the poem is about the tulips she received while recovering in the hospital from an appendectomy, but it also evokes her multiple attempts at suicide. Despite this bleakness, most critics believe that by the end of the poem, Plath has decided to return to the living rather than embrace the pleasant nothingness of death. For now, at least, there is enough in life that appeals to her, and she will not let herself dissolve into nothingness.

4. Lady Lazarus, 1962

A searing poem permeated by simmering rage, “Lady Lazarus” is one of Plath’s most famous works. She narrates the poem as if she were a spectacle, a sideshow, someone whose disintegration and death are being consumed by an audience. She mocks “the peanut-crunching crowd” who clamor to see her “big strip tease,” who will pay a price for “the eyeing of my scars” or “a word or touch” or “a bit of blood.” With a smile, she proclaims that “Dying / Is an art, like everything else” and that she “[does] it exceptionally well.” At the end of the poem she cautions them all to “Beware,” and, in the astonishing closing lines, exults that “Out of the ash / I rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air.”

Plath tried to commit suicide at ages 10 and 20 (and then, at age 30, succeeded). In this poem she situates herself after the second attempt and as currently undertaking a third, scathingly suggesting that people enjoy watching her destroy herself. They’re eating snacks and finding a prurient delight in her disintegration. Since we are also readers of this poem, we’re complicit as well. There is particular rage at inhabiting a female body, which is subject to even more voyeurism, oppression, and abuse. That rage lets loose at the end of the poem, where she rises from the dead like the biblical figure of Lazarus: “Out of the ash / I rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air.”

5. Daddy, 1962

“Daddy” is a poem that most people who read Plath encounter early on, and it tends to confirm the prevailing opinion that this is a writer with deep trauma, whose poetic images are dark and twisted, and whose usage of Nazi references is problematic. And indeed, all of those things are true—Plath did have a troubled relationship with her father, she did embrace the dark, and she did weave in references to Jews and Nazism in a way that necessitates our critique. However, there’s much more at play in Plath as a person and as a poet, and certainly in “Daddy.” This is a poem feminists laud for its rage, that some critics see as more about her fears of creative paralysis, and that is remarkably skillful in its structure and rhyme.

In the poem, seen as one of the most emblematic of the “confessional” school of poetry, Plath works through her feelings towards her father. He was “Marble-heavy, a bag full of God.” She tells him she could never talk to him; the “tongue stuck in my jaw.” His being oppressed her so that she “began to talk like a Jew” and began to feel like a Jew. With his “neat mustache” and his “Aryan eye,” he was a “man in black with a Meinkampf look.” She glories in how there’s now a “stake in your fat black heart” and how the “villagers never liked you.” As they dance upon him, she says, “Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through.”

A comment is necessary on those Nazi allusions, which aren’t just here in “Daddy.” Plath was German, not Jewish, and had studied the Holocaust from a historical lens. Her understanding of the Holocaust’s unfathomable horrors made its way into her poetry as she grappled with major themes of oppression, trauma, violence, patriarchy, and more. As critic Al Strangeways writes, “the Holocaust assumed a mythic dimension because of its extremity and the difficulty of understanding it in human terms, due to the mechanical efficiency with which it was carried out, and the inconceivably large number of victims.” Plath uses it alongside other mythic and religious examples of violence to probe the deepest depths of personal and universal trauma.

6. Ariel, 1962

“Ariel” is a poem full of motion. It begins with the scene of “Stasis in darkness” before it explodes into an open field with a rider galloping across the expanse. Something “hauls me through air,” the narrator says, calling herself a “White Godiva” who sloughs off “Dead hands, dead stringencies.” In her hurry she finds some oblivion, turning into “foam,” a “glitter of seas,” an “arrow.” That oblivion is also found in her ultimate destination— “Into the red / Eye, the cauldron of the morning.”

A short but immensely important poem in Plath’s oeuvre, Ariel’s meaning is not totally obvious at first read. Does it just depict a breakneck ride at dawn? Or the liberation of the creative impulse that comes from writing poetry? Or suicide, an oblivion of the self? Or the melding of the human and the animal to achieve freedom? Plath’s haunting, ambiguous poem allows for numerous interpretations.

7. Contusion, 1962

One of Plath’s very last poems, “Contusion” is undeniably bleak. It’s short and evocative, a collection of images that fill the reader with a dull horror. In the first stanza, the image is a bruise that stands out on the white body with its deep purple coloring. In the second stanza, the “sea sucks obsessively” on a pit of rock. In the third, a “doom mark” that is “the size of a fly” crawls down a wall. In the fourth, the “heart shuts, / The sea slides back, / The mirrors are sheeted.”

All the images are of closure, ending, finality. In the first stanza, the bruise seems to be on a corpse, as Plath contrasts the pearlescent whiteness of the skin. There is no vitality here, no life. Critics often discuss “Contusion” alongside “Edge,” her very last poem, written only a few days before her death. That poem begins with “The woman is perfected. / Her dead / Body wears the smile of accomplishment,” so “Contusion” feels like a natural companion. Its structure is one of repetitive morphemes (the smallest grammatical units of speech), which give it a sense of mundanity and inescapability, and its signifiers are unconnected (body and sea and mirror), precluding our ability to find narrative, unity, meaning, and, ultimately, hope.

Oscar Wilde was a 19th-century Irish writer known for his intelligence, charm, and wit. He gifted posterity with epigrams like “I can resist everything except temptation,” and “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.” Both of Wilde’s parents were writers. His father, Sir William Wilde, was a doctor and folklorist. One of his contributions to the field of folklore was the book Irish Popular Superstitions. Wilde’s mother, Jane Elgee Wilde, was an Irish nationalist and author of the book Ancient Legends, Mystic Charms, and Superstitions of Ireland.

What Inspired Oscar Wilde’s Supernatural Creatures?

Oscar Wilde’s knowledge of Irish folklore and his exposure to the works of Continental writers of fairy tales, such as the German Brothers Grimm, the Danish Hans Christian Andersen, and the French Charles Perrault, influenced his own writing. Supernatural characters abound in his work. First and foremost, in his fairy tales, but also in his only novel The Picture of Dorian Gray. This Gothic novel became a classic in English literature.

In his own words, Oscar Wilde wrote that his fairy tales were “meant partly for children, and partly for those who have kept the childlike faculties of wonder and joy.” They were collected into two volumes, The Happy Prince and Other Tales, published in 1888, and A House of Pomegranates, published in 1891.

Oscar Wilde created “art for art’s sake.” Nevertheless, the supernatural characters who appear in the fairy tales of Oscar Wilde, as well as his poem and novel, impart moral lessons to the reader. For though Oscar Wilde was a leading writer of the Decadent Movement and the Aesthetic Movement, he was also very much concerned with the cruelty, callousness, and injustice of Victorian society. Here are some of the supernatural creatures from Wilde’s oeuvre that you should know.

1. The Happy Prince

The Happy Prince from The Happy Prince and Other Tales is a statue that retains all the memories and emotions gained during his life as a flesh-and-blood royal. His consciousness has survived death. It is now trapped in a gilded statue with bright sapphire eyes.

During his earthly life, he was indeed happy. The irony, however, is that when the reader encounters the Happy Prince, he is desperately sad. When he was alive and possessed a beating human heart, the Prince lived in a palace untouched by sorrow. He was unaware of the great suffering in the world. Now that he’s a statue stationed high above the city, he can see the suffering of his subjects and the ugliness of the city. Tears flow from the sapphire eyes of the gilded gold statue for he thinks “though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.”

A little Swallow can somehow read the Happy Prince’s thoughts. He befriends the Prince, becoming his arms and legs, or rather his wings, in the fairy tale.

2. The Nightingale and the Rose

The Nightingale from The Happy Prince and Other Tales is no ordinary bird. It understands the thoughts of men. The little bird feels empathy towards a lovelorn Student. The Student hopes to win the heart of a vain young woman by giving her a red rose at the Prince’s ball. Yet there are no red roses to be found. But the Nightingale believes in true love and is determined to help the Student, who searches in vain for a red rose.

Finally, the Nightingale learns from a tree that the only way for it to obtain a red rose is to “to build it out of music by moonlight and stain it with your own heart’s blood. You must sing to me with your breast against a thorn. All night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must pierce your heart, and your life-blood must flow into my veins, and become mine.” But will the Nightingale make the ultimate sacrifice? Read the tale to find out!

3. The Selfish Giant

True to its title, “The Selfish Giant” is a fairy tale about a self-serving giant. Poor children who were uninvited would play in his garden. Determined to maintain the sanctity of private property, the Selfish Giant built a high wall around the garden and put up a sign. He frightened the children who had no other safe place to play.

Unbeknownst to the Selfish Giant, it was those very children who invited Spring into his garden. In the absence of the poor children, Snow, Frost, Hail, and the North Wind reigned in the garden. Will the Selfish Giant realize the error of his ways before it is too late?

4. The Young King

The beautiful Young King from A House of Pomegranates undergoes a spiritual transformation. He changes from a royal preoccupied by luxuriant raiment to a Young King moved by the suffering of the poor and downtrodden. Dreams that were visions of actual events are how this transformation comes about. Once this transformation is wrought, armed men are unable to harm the unarmed Young King. Additionally, the dead shepherd’s staff and the dead circlet that crowns his head blossom with living flowers.

5. The Mermaid

In The Fisherman and His Soul from A House of Pomegranates, a fisherman catches a beautiful mermaid in his nets. After pleading to be released, the mermaid is freed when she agrees to the Fisherman’s demand. She promises the Fisherman to return to him each time he calls for her. When she returns, she must sing, for the songs of a mermaid enchant fish, making it easier for the Fisherman to catch them. Each day, the Fisherman summons the mermaid who dutifully comes and sings for him.

Over time, the Fisherman falls in love with the mermaid. He is determined to marry her. Alas, humans and mermaids cannot be together because humans have souls and mermaids don’t. “If only thou would’st send away thy soul, then I could love thee,” the mermaid tells the forlorn Fisherman. Thus begins the Fisherman’s terrifying journey to rid himself of his soul. On that journey, he comes face to face with his soul, witches, and the Devil himself.

6. The Star-Child

A beautiful baby boy falls to the Earth in the form of a shooting star in a tale from A House of Pomegranates. He is a Star-Child. Though raised in the family of a humble Woodcutter, the Star-Child is actually the son of a shapeshifting King and Queen.

7. The Canterville Ghost

The ghost of Canterville Chase in England takes pride in his ability to terrorize all residents of the estate, and he has been doing so for the past three hundred years. All this changes when the house is sold to an American family. When he was told about the ghost by Lord Canterville, the new homeowner, Hiram B. Otis replied, “But there is no such thing, sir, as a ghost, and I guess the laws of Nature are not going to be suspended for the British aristocracy.”

Not long after, the ghost makes multiple appearances before Mr. Otis’ family. Much to the dismay of the Canterville Ghost, the Americans refuse to be frightened. Quite the opposite. The family performs one practical joke after another on the ghost! Since the Canterville Ghost cannot scare them, he must search his soul to determine the purpose of his existence.

8. The Ballad of Reading Gaol

In 1895, Oscar Wilde was tried and convicted of “gross indecency.” His two-year imprisonment at Reading Gaol compelled him to write the poem “The Ballad of Reading Gaol.” It was based on true events, including the hanging of murderer Charles Thomas Woolridge; however, supernatural characters nevertheless appear in the ballad. As though the horrors of prison were not bad enough, “evil sprites” also terrorize the inmates.

“And each evil sprite that walks by night

Before us seemed to play…

‘Oho!’ they cried, ‘the world is wide,
But fettered limbs go lame!
And once, or twice, to throw the dice
Is a gentlemanly game,
But he does not win who plays with Sin
In the Secret House of Shame.‘”

9. Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray” as the Pinnacle of the Supernatural

In Oscar Wilde’s only novel, artist Basil Hallward paints a portrait of the beautiful young Dorian Gray. On seeing his portrait, Dorian wishes, “How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible, and dreadful. But this picture will remain always young… If it were the other way. If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture who was to grow old! For that– for that– I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give. I would give my soul for that!” His wish is granted. From that moment on, Dorian Gray does not age. His portrait, however, continues to grow old and to grow ugly from the selfish and immoral life he leads.

Samuel Johnson, possibly the most quoted man of the 18th century, was not a detached intellectual debating abstract philosophy in academic halls. He fought his battles with witty words in the crowded taverns and foggy streets of London. Samuel Johnson, a struggling writer who knew the depths of poverty and a literary titan whose conversation was an art form, was a fierce critic of human pretense. These iconic quotes reveal a mind unmatched in its razor-sharp wit and profound understanding of human nature.

The Many Sayings of Samuel Johnson

Most people have heard of the many sayings of Samuel Johnson, and probably use them on occasion without knowing their origin. He is one of the most quoted historical figures of all time. Choosing just a few of his most iconic sayings is an enormous challenge; it would be easy to list 100 quotes. This is largely thanks to James Boswell, who recorded many of his friend’s sayings in his biography, “The Life of Samuel Johnson.”

Johnson did not compose his witticism for a public audience. Most were spoken to Boswell in conversation or written to him in letters. It was Boswell who made these sayings public in a work based on “the vast treasure of conversations at different times,” many of which Boswell noted down in his journal. But Boswell was not the only one to consider Johnson’s life and words worth recording. Anecdotes and quotes were also published by John Hawkins, Anna Seward, Elizabeth Montagu, Hannah More, and even Horace Walpole.

Samuel Johnson was born in 1709 and lived through the reigns of four British monarchs – Queen Anne (1702-1714), King George I (1714-1727), King George II (1727-1760), and King George III (1760-1820) – before his death in 1784. Highly talented, he did many things with his life. Johnson was a lexicographer, a poet, a playwright, an essayist, and a biographer. He was also a moralist, a literary critic, a sermonist, and an editor. Renowned for his exceptional ability with words, he soon became better known as Doctor Johnson.

1. “When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life”  

This is probably Samuel Johnson’s most famous and reused quote, at least in Britain. The meaning is simple. Johnson was claiming that London is such a busy, modern, and exciting place that it would be impossible to get bored there. There is no possible end to London’s delights, and it would be unthinkable to tire of what the city has to offer.

When it comes to a love of London, Samuel Johnson was certainly in good company. Walter Besant (1836-1901) said of London, “I’ve been walking about the city for the last thirty years, and I find something fresh in it every day.” Even a  few centuries earlier, the Scotsman William Dunbar (1459-1530) declared, “London, thou art the flour of all cities!”

The words were originally spoken by Johnson when in conversation with James Boswell on the 20th of December, 1777. Johnson, who hated spending time alone, was always out and about, experiencing the many perks of city life. Boswell, whose father owned estates in the Scottish Highlands, knew the benefits of both rural and urban lifestyles.

The pair were discussing whether Boswell’s growing affection for London would wear thin if he chose to live there permanently. When Samuel Johnson delivered his response, little did he know that his words would be repeated countless times throughout the centuries to come.

2. “Claret is the liquor for boys, port for men; but anyone who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy.” 

By Samuel Johnson’s era, brandy had become renowned in England as a strong and popular spirit. Brandy is a liquor produced by distilling wine and is generally between 35-60 percent alcohol. During the 18th century, brandy was typically consumed by upper-class gentlemen as an after-dinner digestif. But why did Johnson consider its consumption heroic?

Well, during the 18th and even the 19th centuries, brandy was often used as a medical treatment due to its alleged stimulating qualities. It was also used by many travelers and explorers who suggested that moderate doses of brandy helped one to cope with fever, depression, and stress. Samuel Johnson could have been suggesting that heroes regularly come across these troubles and that a swig of brandy was all that was needed to successfully combat them.

3. “Love is the wisdom of the fool and the folly of the wise.” 

This quote suggests that falling in love can cause a dramatic change in anyone’s personality. It can cause even the wisest man or woman to become a fool. Love has the power to unravel both sanity and rationality. In short, love turns fools into wise men and wise men into fools.

Samuel Johnson was a man who knew a lot about true love. He had one notable romantic relationship with Elizabeth, whom Johnson affectionately called Tetty. Elizabeth Jervis was originally married to Henry Porter, a good friend of Samuel Johnson. By her first husband, Elizabeth had three children: Lucy, Jervis Henry, and Joseph. On meeting Johnson, Elizabeth declared to her daughter, “That is the most sensible man I have ever met.” The two fell in love shortly after she was widowed. They married in 1735, when she was 46, and he was just 25.

Their union was not accepted by all. Elizabeth Johnson’s family found the age difference between their mother and their new father-in-law difficult to tolerate. The marriage so disgusted Jervis Henry that he cut all ties with his mother. However, Lucy and Joseph later came to accept him into their circle. The couple was extremely happy together, and Samuel Johnson referred to their marriage as being “a love match on both sides.” However, it was relatively short-lived as Tetty died at age 63 following bouts of ill health, possibly caused by excessive use of opiates and alcohol. Johnson mourned her for the rest of his life.

4. “Resolve not to be poor; whatever you have, spend less.”

This common and sensible piece of advice is rarely remembered as belonging to Samuel Johnson, but he understood the importance of living within one’s means. Johnson also said that “poverty is a great enemy to human happiness, it certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable, and others extremely difficult.”

Johnson gave this advice to Boswell in a letter in December 1782. Boswell had recently inherited his father’s wealth and Highland estates. He was spending the majority of his time in Scotland, far away from London and therefore also from Johnson. Their separation did not lessen the strength of their friendship; they kept in touch through a series of letters, many of which Boswell used as material for his biography.

In the letter, Johnson congratulated Boswell on his inheritance, “Your economy, I suppose, begins now to be settled,” he began, “your expenses are adjusted to your revenue, and all your people in their proper places.” He then asked about Boswell’s new circumstances, asking personal questions about the number of houses he now owned, the amount of money he held in his accounts, how many cows he possessed, his landholdings, and the nature of his agreements with his tenants. He then offered this piece of unsolicited advice.

5. “Curiosity is, in great and generous minds, the first passion and the last.” 

Rather than coming from Boswell, Johnson wrote this in an article for the periodical The Rambler in August 1751. This issue, number 150, was dedicated to exploring the concept of curiosity. Samuel Johnson’s response was that true genius is not about how much you know, but how much you want to know.

Johnson himself possessed a highly curious mind. For example, when a poltergeist story spread around London in 1762, rather than dismissing it, he joined the occult detective team, later debunking it as a hoax. He also set up a makeshift chemistry laboratory in the backyard of his friend Hester Thrale’s estate. Johnson spent hours absorbed in blending chemicals, distilling substances, and testing the properties of materials, often to the terror of his friends, who were worried he was going to blow up the house.

He did not advocate for petty curiosity and gossip, but still considered it one of the defining characteristics of a vigorous intellect and said, “Curiosity is the thirst of the soul; it inflames and torments us, and makes us taste everything with joy, however otherwise insipid, by which it may be quenched.”

6. “Hell is paved with good intentions.” 

This idea did not start with Johnson, and has evolved over the centuries. According to Boswell, on April 14, 1775, Johnson was talking to an acquaintance about how people often fail to live up to their religious and moral resolutions. Johnson looked at him and said, “Sir, hell is paved with good intentions.”

Earlier figures like Saint Bernard of Clairvaux in the 12th century had said “Hell is full of good intentions and wishes.” Johnson added the vivid image of “paving.” Over the next century, the public altered it slightly into “the road to hell,” which stuck permanently in the cultural lexicon.

Johnson used the words to refer directly to laziness, hypocrisy, and empty promises. He was pointing out that merely intending to be a good person, or intending to start something, means nothing if you don’t do it. We use “good intentions” as an emotional shield to make ourselves feel virtuous without acting virtuously.

7. “A cucumber should be well sliced, dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out as good for nothing.” 

This is not one of Johnson’s quotes with a deeper meaning. He simply hated cucumbers and was not afraid to say so.

Raw cucumber is 95 percent water, four percent carbohydrates, and one percent protein; not exactly delicious-sounding. It also contains a biochemical compound, cucurbitacin, which gives it a bitter taste that some people don’t like. Cucumbers have been around since ancient times. Early mentions can be found in the Book of Exodus. Thousands of years later, in the late 8th and early 9th centuries, the Holy Roman emperor Charlemagne instructed that cucumbers should be grown in his private gardens.

Cucumbers were introduced to Britain sometime in the 14th century, but it didn’t take long for Englishmen to turn against them. Prejudice developed in England against uncooked vegetables. Articles by medical professionals stated that vegetables such as cucumbers could bring on fevers. It was advised that they should not be eaten by children, the elderly, or vulnerable people in general. Others said that cucumbers were fit “only for consumption by cows.”

Gloria Steinem is one of the most vocal feminists, supporting multiple causes that fight the oppression of different groups of people. During the second half of the 20th century, it was dangerous for women to speak their minds in the manner Gloria did. She openly challenged then-taboo subjects, such as abortion rights, pay equality, and domestic violence. She also had a great deal of influence in the battle for closing the gender gap. Read on to discover more about Gloria Steinem’s life and activism.

Gloria Steinem’s Early Life, Childhood, and Education

Born in Toledo, Ohio, on March 25, 1934, Gloria Steinem had an eventful and somewhat turbulent childhood that influenced her later life and career. Her father was an antique dealer who moved his family often, traveling in their house trailer. Her mother was a journalist who suffered from some mental health challenges, especially depression, which left a significant mark on Gloria’s fight for equality and feminism.

Due to the different aspirations and wants in life—and probably her mother’s undiagnosed mental illness—Gloria’s parents divorced when she was ten years old, and she moved with her mother to Toledo, Ohio. Her mother’s condition and the fact that she was a single parent caring for a young child made Gloria witness firsthand how difficult it was for a woman to find her way in society. In the 1950s, women were expected to fit a certain role, and society was not kind to single mothers. Her early life and the state’s failure to protect her mother planted a feminist seed.

Even though her life was not without challenges, Gloria Steinem excelled in school, and her good grades gained her admission to the prestigious Smith College in Massachusetts on a scholarship. There, Gloria studied political science and journalism and became involved in various activist causes. As one of the college’s best students, she graduated magna cum laude in 1956. She later received a fellowship that allowed her to continue her studies in India for two years.

While in India, Gloria Steinem became acquainted with Mahatma Gandhi’s philosophy and activism, including his support for nonviolent resistance. Witnessing the situation in India and the struggles people faced helped Gloria develop her own activism and personality. In particular, while living in India, Gloria began connecting feminism with human rights.

Undercover Playboy Bunny

When she returned from India, Gloria Steinem moved to New York City to work as a freelance writer, contributing to publications like Esquire, The New York Times, Glamour, and Show Magazine. She started to find her writer’s voice and style, developing a distinctive writing style. She became famous for being able to blend insightful social commentary with captivating storytelling that kept the reader engaged.

In 1963, Gloria Steinem gained recognition for her breakthrough article “I Was a Playboy Bunny,” a two-piece exposé for SHOW magazine published in May. The article resulted from Steinem’s intention to investigate the Playboy Club owned by Hugh Hefner and the working conditions of Playboy Bunnies. To write her exposé, Gloria herself worked undercover as a Bunny.

The so-called Playboy Bunnies were waitresses working in particular conditions, wearing revealing and suggestive clothing, and often serving men who were objectifying them. On top of that, these employees were overworked and underpaid, relying on tips for the evening to make a decent stipend. Gloria’s investigative journalism shed light on these issues and the derogatory working conditions of the Playboy Bunnies, making her the voice of the feminist movement and one of the most known female investigative journalists.

The exposé became one of the pivotal moments in Steinem’s career and the feminist movement. It brought to the attention the objectification of women and acted as a catalyst to start crucial conversations regarding gender equality. After her breakthrough article, Gloria Steinem began to focus more and more on activism and social issues. In the following years, she wrote about topics like female reproductive rights, sexism, the Civil Rights Movement, and political campaigns.

National Women’s Political Caucus

The National Women’s Political Caucus (NWPC) was founded in July 1971 to boost women’s participation in politics. It was established in Washington DC, and one of its main goals was to bring gender equality on every governmental level. Besides Gloria Steinem, some of the most prominent feminist voices of that time, such as Shirley Chisholm, Betty Friedan, Bella Abzug, and Fannie Lou Hamer, were among NWPC’s founders. These women broke glass ceilings in many different fields, and together, they made history by combining their forces to make women’s voices heard in politics, social movements, and the fight for equality.

As a journalist with a national platform that gained attention through investigative journalism and topics extremely relevant to women’s fight for equality, Gloria Steinem played a crucial role in women’s fight to increase their political participation. She was aware of the necessity for women to have titles of power, to be able to make decisions and laws that would protect their interests and level the field with men. Through her activism and platform, Gloria wanted to call women to run for governmental and political offices and to encourage them to challenge the status quo in a male-dominated society.

Gloria Stenem’s involvement with the NWPC was evident in her prolific and engaged writing and her participation in rallies, conferences, and other events with political and activist connotations and backgrounds. In 1971, she co-founded one of the most influential feminist publications, Ms. magazine, where she shared stories of women in politics and called out sexism, chauvinism, racism, and bigoted behavior. The NWPC persists to this day and is responsible for paving the way for many women in politics, no matter their party affiliation.

Gloria Steinem’s Feminism and Activism

Gloria Steinem fought for different activist causes and immensely influenced activism in the United States in general. In particular, she was extremely vocal and passionate regarding reproductive rights and abortion access. Today, she is still one of the loudest voices in the fight for bodily autonomy and the right to choose whether to carry on or terminate the pregnancy. Gloria Steinem was also one of the first public personalities to talk openly about her abortion experience at 22 years old and how it impacted her life.

Another critical feminist issue Steinem openly supported was the fight for equal pay and workplace rights. Her involvement and stance on the matter are evident through her campaign for the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA), a measure aiming to secure equality for women by ending legal differences between men and women in various areas, from employment to property.

The history of the ERA goes way back before the time of Gloria Steinem. Indeed, the first proposal was written in 1923, but to this day, it still has not been ratified. To achieve ratification and become an official part of the US Constitution, the amendment needed the approval of 38 states. However, not enough states ratified the Equal Rights Amendment; it never became official law, and it remains one of the main issues in the fight for equality that is still open. Today, several feminist and LGBTQA+ activists are still pushing for the ERA ratification, more than one century since its first draft.

Besides fighting for women’s rights, Gloria Steinem is a prominent activist for LGBTQA+ rights. Before it became legal, Stenam openly supported same-sex marriage and advocated for rights for all, no matter the sex, sexuality, or race.

Gloria Steinem’s Legacy

Gloria Steinem’s legacy is vast and multidimensional. She managed to completely change and showcase what feminist journalism can look like and how it allows crucial topics to be brought to light, evoking the interest of a broad public.

Besides fighting for gender and racial equality, Steinem supports abortion rights and is active against domestic violence. In some more traditional and already well-established print media, these issues were not that much present and talked about before activists and journalists such as Gloria Steinem. With Ms. magazine, she changed the public discourse and gave her readers the “legitimacy” to speak about these polarizing topics.

Today, it is sometimes easy to forget that certain freedoms were unavailable to women just 50 years ago. For example, in the United States, women could not get a credit card without a man co-signing it. This practice was based on the misogynistic stereotype that women are not financially responsible or reliable. The requirement for a male cosigner ended in 1974 with the Equal Credit Opportunity Act (ECOA), when Steinem and other like-minded activists fought for gender equality.

Another obstacle that women faced during this time was getting access to birth control when unmarried, a restriction that officially ended in 1972 with Eisenstadt v. Baird. Education was also restricted. The oldest universities in the US often admitted only male students. Some Ivy League Colleges, like Harvard, started admitting female students only in the second half of the 1970s.

Gloria Steinem is, to this day, one of the most famous and respected feminist voices in the world. She is a fighter for equal rights for all and a climate change activist. Together with second-wave feminist activists, Steinem undoubtedly made a huge impact on the course of women’s history.

In “A Room of One’s Own,” Virginia Woolf famously posited “that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.” Many women writers throughout history have adopted male pseudonyms to preserve their privacy, maintain a distance between their fictional and non-fictional writings, or evade some of the prejudicial criticisms reserved for women authors.

1. George Sand (Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Francueil)

Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Francueil was born on July 1, 1804. She published 70 novels and over 50 volumes of other writings under the pseudonym George Sand before her death in 1876. Her prolific output was matched by her popularity. She was more celebrated in Britain than famous male French writers, such as Victor Hugo and Honoré de Balzac.

In 1831, when she was still an unknown writer, she chose the pseudonym George Sand to improve her chances of success, over the French version Georges. In the 19th century, when French women were required to apply for a permit to wear male clothing, Sand chose to wear male clothing without such a permit. Moreover, she habitually smoked tobacco in public, something not even a permit could excuse in 19th-century France. Victor Hugo famously remarked on her uniquely dual nature, writing in her funeral panegyric that she had “the heart of a man and the mind of an angel.”

A noted member of the Romantic movement in literature, Sand’s writing often rails against the confines that matrimony places on women. She championed women’s causes throughout her life. Though married to François Casimir Dudevant, she had relationships with many men of note (including writers Jules Sandeau and Prosper Mérimée, politician Louis Blanc, and, perhaps most famously, composer Frédéric Chopin) as well as at least one lesbian love affair with the actress Marie Dorval.

2. George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)

Mary Ann Evans was born in Nuneaton, Warwickshire, England, at South Farm on the Arbury Hall estate (which her father managed) on November 22, 1819. She became a novelist after publishing her essay-turned-manifesto “Silly Novels by Lady Novelists,” in which she criticized the triviality of contemporary women’s fiction. Under the pseudonym “George Eliot,” she wrote her novels in the realist tradition emerging in Europe, eschewing the lighter, romantic subject matter of many other women writers at the time.

From an early age, she demonstrated a keen intelligence. Her father, believing that she was no great beauty and therefore would not make an advantageous marriage, allowed her an education, not typically afforded women at the time. She boarded at various schools between the ages of five and sixteen. She was also permitted to read from the library of Arbury Hall, which she did voraciously.

At the age of sixteen, her mother died. Five years later, she and her father moved to Coventry. Here, she was exposed to radical, free-thinking societies and published an English translation of Strauss’s “Das Leben Jesu kritisch bearbeitet (The Life of Jesus, Critically Examined),” in which Strauss argued that the miracles recorded in the New Testament should be considered as mythical rather than factual.

Following her father’s death in 1849, she moved to London. She became the assistant editor (editor in all but name) of the left-wing Westminster Review. In 1851, she met the philosopher and critic George Henry Lewes. He was unable to obtain a divorce, but she and Lewes lived together from 1854 and considered themselves married to each other.

3. 4. & 5. The Brontë Sisters (Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë)

Charlotte, Emily, and Anne Brontë are world-famous novelists in their own right today. But during their lives, they published under the pseudonyms of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell.

Growing up in an isolated parsonage in Haworth, West Yorkshire, the Brontë sisters received relatively little formal education aside from short stints at the Clergy Daughters’ School at Cowan Bridge for Charlotte and Emily, Miss Wooler’s School at Roe Head for all three, and the Pensionnat Héger for Charlotte and Emily. Their father, however, educated them in subjects such as history and languages, allowing them to read from his library.

After discovering some of Emily’s poems in 1845, Charlotte convinced her sisters to produce a joint collection of their poetry. In 1846, their collection was published under their male pseudonyms, selling only three copies.

Despite this, Emily was busy writing “Wuthering Heights,” Charlotte was working on “The Professor,” and Anne was channeling her struggles as a governess into “Agnes Grey.” After only Emily and Anne’s novels were accepted for publication, Charlotte began work on “Jane Eyre,” and all three novels were published in 1847 under their pseudonyms.

The name Brontë was also something of an invention on the part of Patrick, their father. Derived from the Irish clan Ó Pronntaigh, the surname was typically anglicized as Prunty or Brunty. Patrick, an Irishman then studying at Cambridge University, may have wished to distance himself from his Irish surname. He may have done so in honor of Admiral Horatio Nelson, Duke of Bronte, though he may also have wished to avoid association with his brother, William, who was a wanted man following his association with the United Irishmen movement.

6. James Tiptree Jr. (Alice Bradley Sheldon)

Born Alice Hastings Bradley, Sheldon came from a family of intellectuals. Following the breakdown of her first marriage, she joined the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps as a supply officer. She then joined the United States Air Force, earning the rank of major. In 1945, while on assignment in Paris, she married Huntington D. Sheldon. One year later, she was discharged from the military. Her first story, “The Lucky Ones,” was published in The New Yorker under the name Alice Bradley.

After a brief stint in the CIA, she returned to academia, earning her PhD from George Washington University. During this period, she began to publish science fiction short stories under the name James Tiptree Jr. Critic Robert Silverberg said he discerned “something ineluctably masculine about Tiptree’s writing,” and compared her to Ernest Hemingway. When her identity was revealed in 1977, it shocked the science fiction community

7. Andre Norton (Alice Mary Norton)

Alice Mary Norton was born in Cleveland, Ohio, on February 17, 1912. In the wake of the Depression, she dropped out of Flora Stone Mather College of Western Reserve University in 1932. She began working for the Cleveland Library System, where she remained for the next 18 years.

In 1934, she published her first novel, “The Prince Commands, being sundry adventures of Michael Karl, sometime crown prince & pretender to the throne of Morvania,” and legally changed her name to Andre Alice Norton. It was only in 1958, however, after publishing 21 novels, that she was able to become a full-time writer. She published 130 novels and numerous short stories over the course of her career.

8. Vernon Lee (Violet Paget)

Vernon Lee was the nom de plume of the writer Violet Paget, though she also went by her adopted name in her personal life. Best remembered for her works of supernatural fiction and aesthetic theory. She was also a feminist, pacifist, musician, and an early disciple of Walter Pater. Like George Sand, she also dressed in typically male clothing—à la garçonne. Though she resisted the term lesbian, she had long-term relationships with women, including fellow writers Mary Robinson, Clementina “Kit” Anstruther-Thomson, and Amy Levy.

Lee wrote primarily for an English-speaking readership, but she was born in France and spent most of her life in continental Europe. Though she traveled widely, she favored Italy and spent her longest stretch just outside Florence. She drew on her travels to pen myriad essays on her experiences in Italy, France, Switzerland, and Germany. Unlike most travel writers, however, she sought to delineate her own subjective experience of a place and the psychological impacts it had on her personally.

In collaboration with Kit Anstruther-Thomson, she pioneered her own version of “psychological aesthetics.” She connected aesthetics to such “bodily reactions” as “eye movements, pulse and heartbeat, [and] muscle tension. Her pacifism and open disapproval of the First World War meant that her work was sidelined. She fell into obscurity before feminist scholars revived her work in the 1990s.

Select Bibliography

Colby, V. (2003). Vernon Lee: A Literary Biography (Charlottesville, VA: University of Virginia Press)

Ingham, P. (2008). The Brontës (Oxford: Oxford University Press).

The oeuvre of Henry James spans some 20 novels, dozens more novellas and short stories, plays, travel writing, and criticism. It’s not just the breadth of this body of work that daunts readers. James is a novelist’s novelist, who innovated a style entirely his own: sprawling sentences in which each word is meticulously chosen to add to the enigmatic maze of phrases he has pieced together. Where to start? No better place than his early style, with its famous ‘international theme,’ moving through to his psychologically complex, highly interiorized later work.

The Portrait of a Lady

In 1881, Henry James was already the author of six novels. A cosmopolitan who had spent as much of his youth traveling in Europe as in his native New England, James had filled his books so far with the ‘international theme’: contrasting American innocence with European experience, New World enterprise with Old World culture. No surprise that these early novels included titles such as The American (1877) and The Europeans (1878).

The Portrait of a Lady expanded on these ideas by integrating another element that would become a James hallmark: a brilliant, beautiful, often rich female protagonist who must decide how to make her way in a world that still prizes marriage above all. James’s first great success, and still one of his most read works, the novella Daisy Miller (1878), had taken up this theme alongside the international one by depicting its American heroine’s changing fortunes in Europe.

Isabel Archer, in Portrait of a Lady, is another of these beguiling heroines. What sets this novel apart (making it, for many readers, James’s first masterpiece) is the space it devotes to exploring its protagonist’s inner workings.

We follow every step of Isabel’s mental processes as she asks herself whether to marry Gilbert Osmond in spite of her doubts, then as she tries to make sense of her betrayal at Gilbert’s hands and those of his accomplice, Madame Merle. This painstaking recreation of the human mind in fiction would become James’s greatest accomplishment.

The Aspern Papers

You’d be forgiven for thinking that an author bent on mimicking the intricacies of consciousness in prose wasn’t exactly a writer of page-turners. Yet The Aspern Papers, a novella published in 1888, is exactly that.

Our unnamed narrator travels to Venice in hopes of getting a glimpse at some letters, or ‘papers,’ by the late, celebrated poet Jeffrey Aspern (an invention of James’s, though he drew on the increasing interest among scholars by the late 19th century to gather information about deceased writers). The narrator finds himself embroiled in a game of mutual dissembling with the old woman who guards the papers and her niece.

The novella is a gripping piece of metafiction that anticipates certain postmodern texts that also revolve around literary detective work, such as A.S. Byatt’s Possession (1990) and the dark academia genre. As the tension mounts throughout The Aspern Papers, the reader is left questioning what really motivates each character: are they intent on preserving Aspern’s memory, or satisfying their own desires?

The Turn of the Screw

Probably James’s best-known piece of short fiction, if not his best-known work altogether, The Turn of the Screw has been adapted multiple times since its publication in 1898: it has been turned into films (such as The Innocents, 1961), reworked as television series (such as The Haunting of Bly Manor, 2020), referenced in other fiction, and formed the basis of a Benjamin Britten opera.

Why does The Turn of the Screw continue to capture audiences? In part, because it is a classic horror story, complete with haunted house, creepy children, and an unnamed, mounting threat. Its title refers to the gradual, torturous tightening of tension as the governess at the center of the story tries to determine whether the children she is in charge of really are possessed by the ghosts of Bly Manor’s former servants.

So far, so Gothic. But what makes The Turn of the Screw even more captivating, and especially worth reading in its original form, is James’s use of unreliable narration. Unlike earlier Gothic texts, which depict supernatural elements, James’s novella suggests the ghosts may be only in the mind. The question is, whose mind? Using his trademark ambiguity, James makes it possible to believe that the children have made up the apparitions, or that the governess has fabricated the entire story herself.

The Ambassadors

This 1903 novel was James’s favorite of his own works. Here, the ‘international theme’ of his earlier phase meets the intricate prose of his creative apex. This novel, and the novels before and after it (The Wings of the Dove (1902) and The Golden Bowl (1904)) are generally considered his finest work.

The protagonist, Lewis Lambert Strether, is sent to Europe by his fiancée to bring her son from a previous marriage back to America: back to civilized morals and sensible work. This set-up would later serve Patricia Highsmith well for the opening of The Talented Mr Ripley in 1955.

But Chad Newsome, the son, is not living a dissolute lifestyle in Europe at all. He is charming, cultured, and confident. He introduces Strether to Paris, and the ambassador soon finds himself deviating from his mission. It is another story built around enigmas: is Newsome really living a better, more moral life? Is Strether right to feel liberated the longer he spends away from America, the more he immerses himself in European culture?

Once again, James’s complex prose heightens the sensation of entrapment in a maze as the reader tries to puzzle through all this, with the entire experience told in partial, third-person narration: that is, we seem to have an omniscient narrator, but everything is filtered through Strether’s perspective.

The Golden Bowl

In contrast to The Ambassadors and its focus on the protagonist’s point of view, the complexity of The Golden Bowl comes from its masterful evocation of multiple points of view, but without resorting to the epistolary or multiple-narrator constructions of earlier authors.

The plot of The Golden Bowl is relatively simple. Prince Amerigo marries Maggie Verver, daughter of an American widower, Adam, in London. While there, they meet a fellow American, Charlotte Stant, who, before long, marries Adam. Unbeknownst to both Adam and Maggie Verver, their spouses had formerly had an affair, and are now thrown together by the new marriages.

The golden bowl of the title is symbolic: on one of their secret outings, Amerigo and Charlotte decide not to buy it as a wedding present for Maggie because it has a tiny crack. Maggie later buys it, causing the shopkeeper to reveal their affair. Each character has a reason not to shatter this golden bowl or destroy the two marriages by revealing their secrets.

It is an emotionally claustrophobic novel, and James’s narration emphasizes this by moving seamlessly among the four protagonists’ thought processes. This, paired with James’s forbidding sentence construction, makes for an astonishing read in which most of the action appears to happen inside the characters’ minds. In this, The Golden Bowl anticipates modernist stream-of-consciousness techniques, used by authors like Virginia Woolf and James Joyce to mimic the complex, often confusing patterns of thought itself.

The Beast in the Jungle

The Golden Bowl had shown James moving away from external action and deeper into the recesses of his characters’ minds. All that happens in The Beast in the Jungle, a novella published in 1903, is that John Marcher meets May Bartram, a woman he used to know 10 years ago, who reminds him of his old, looming fear that some catastrophe was lying in wait for him like a “beast in the jungle.”

Believing he would subject anyone he married to the same fate, he keeps Bartram close but not too close, dragging both of them down into a half-life of fear and hiding. Eventually, he realizes his catastrophic fate has been, all along, to waste the best years of his life worrying about some unknown future event.

It is a relatively simple idea, full of existential possibilities: how should we best live our lives? What is our responsibility towards others? Is it better to cautiously avoid failure or to throw ourselves hopefully towards the unknown?

With its unfussy plot—very few characters, only one setting, in contrast to many of James’s other works which move freely between European countries and America—The Beast in the Jungle has the makings of a classic tragedy, albeit updated to the turn of the 20th century, turning upon the distinctly modern fatal flaw of ennui.

Of course, in James’s hands, it is anything but a simple story. James’s masterful techniques of circumlocution and evasion were well used here, bringing to life a protagonist whom many have suspected to be close to James himself.

Indeed, the sexual ambiguity of Marcher and Bartram’s relationship has led critics to read The Beast in the Jungle as a possible reflection on the conditions of being closeted. Perhaps the ‘beast’ Marcher fears, and the reason he cannot quite allow Bartram into his life, are linked by latent homosexuality.

This was, as the infamous late-19th-century phrase had it, “the love that dare not speak its name,” and James’s prose was the perfect evocation of the closet, with all its symbolic half-statements and partial revelations.

However, we read the story, James’s style is at its peak by the end, reaching an intensity which clearly shows his influence on the modernists some two decades later:

“He saw the Jungle of his life and saw the lurking Beast; then, while he looked, perceived it, as by a stir of the air, rise, huge and hideous, for the leap that was to settle him. His eyes darkened – it was close; and, instinctively turning, in his hallucination, to avoid it, he flung himself, on his face, on the tomb.” (James, 1997)

Source

James, Henry (1997). The Beast in the Jungle. Project Gutenberg edition.

While the Odyssey’s 8th-century B.C. authorship credited to an obscure, allegedly blind poet called Homer remains under debate, it inarguably lives on as one of the cornerstone “great books” of Western literature. Despite the tome’s voluminous 24 books (i.e., chapters) and some 12,000 lines, all written in classical dactylic hexameter verse, the plot is open-and-shut if boiled down to Hollywood “high concept” terms: a valiant soldier’s Herculean quest to return to his wife and homeland after years away at war.

The Iliad, Part II

That soldier, of course, is Odysseus (“Ulysses” or “Ulixēs” in Latin), one of the legendary leaders among the Greek armies that invaded and eventually conquered the coastal fortress city of Troy. While most historians believe there was an actual war between the Greeks and Trojans (the latter located in today’s westernmost Turkey), the entire saga was first mythologized into the Iliad and then the Odyssey “sequel” by Homer. Both were initially passed down through the generations through the oral storytelling tradition.

In the Iliad (from “Ilium,” the Greek name of Troy), Homer lays the blame on Troy’s Prince Paris for starting the hostilities, set off when he spirits away the fair Helen, wife of Sparta’s King Menelaus. None too happy, Menelaus and his brother Agamemnon enlist the mightiest Greek warriors to sail to Troy and lay siege. The war lasts ten long years, and the Greeks eventually triumph, despite losing their seemingly invincible Achilles, but only due to a little trick that famously involves a colossal wooden horse, a cache of hidden soldiers, and a naïve Trojan citizenry that should have feared the Greeks “even when they offer gifts.”

Gods, Monsters, and Men

While Homer’s follow-up also condenses a ten-year span, it covers much more territory (practically the entire Mediterranean in fact) while at that same time trimming its main mortal characters down to three: the “long-suffering” Odysseus, king of Ithaka (aka Ithaca); Penelope, his legendarily loyal wife back home; and Telemachos, his grown son. That Homer curiously shuffles the overall narrative to and fro and inserts what today can be labeled story “flashbacks” retelling Odysseus’ iconic death-defying adventures (the Cyclops, the Sirens, the Lotus-eaters, et al.) arguably points to the epic poem as passing down through history as the tapestry-like creation woven from several narrators, not just one.

Speaking of sewing, this indeed is Penelope’s distaff diversion, as well as sleight-of-hand, in her daily battles against a jackal pack of “haughty suitors” who have rudely taken up residence at the palace. With her husband long gone and feared dead, these brazen interlopers continually badger the queen for her hand in marriage, meaning that one of them will be the new king, of course. The wily Penelope pledges that she will make her choice once she finishes a shroud she is weaving for her father-in-law. What’s a chaste, faithful, “trad” wife to do? By day she labors at weaving the garment, but each night she undoes the work so that she’ll never finish.

Completing Homer’s character triumvirate is Telemachos, whom Odysseus was reluctantly forced to leave as an infant to go off to battle. While his father is no doubt the hero of the Odyssey (after all, it’s named after him), Homer’s first four books tell of the son’s own voyages to seek proof that his father is still alive and where he might be. He sets off on that quest at the urgings of the shape-shifting goddess Pallas Athene (aka Minerva), who is Odysseus’ divine benefactor and booster throughout this tale. She takes his side in opposition to Poseidon, roiling and riled-up god of the sea, who has it in for Odysseus ever since he blinded Poseidon’s monstrous man-eating son, the Cyclops Polyphemus, on the island believed by some to be Sicily.

In a textbook example of a story opening in medias res (“in the middle of things”), the Odyssey’s narrative commences not when Odysseus sails from Troy with his men up the coast to Ismarus, chronologically, but only alludes to that violent clash later on. Given that writer/director Nolan is almost ritually drawn to out-of-sequence plots, even disjointed ones (see Oppenheimer, Inception, Memento, et al.), this observer can pretty well prophesize that his Odyssey will retain and perhaps even complicate Homer’s fractured, fateful timeline over its three-hour length.

Star Treks and Screen Voyages

Odysseus’ superhuman quest is indeed a timeless one and the through-line of scores of legends and lore transcending East and West. Consider the word “nostalgia,” meaning a “longing for home,” an emotion that has surely prompted eons of wistful daydreams or retro physical journeys. Now there are those hardened sages who warn that “you can’t go home again,” but that certainly didn’t stop young Dorothy Gale in Hollywood’s wonderful 1939 The Wizard of Oz, who only had to chant “there’s no place like home” and click her heels to magically return to her family’s Kansas farm.

It’s unsurprising then that the Odyssey has inspired dozens of dramatic journeys, directly and indirectly, old and new, testifying to its deep, buoyant resonance. Nolan has hardly been the first to tackle it on the big screen. There are short, silent, European versions going back at least to 1911. These early “sword and sandal” costume pictures strode into the sound era, with one high point coming with matinee idol Kirk Douglas’ brawny, bearded turn as Ulysses in a lush 1954 Technicolor version produced by Italian film titans Carlo Ponti and Dino De Laurentiis. On U.S and European TV as well, Homer has had long “legs,” charging into several episodic iterations, including a star-studded, visually ravishing 1997 miniseries that featured Armand Assante in the lead role and Greek diva Irene Papas as Odysseus’ mother.

It’s lesser known that Odysseus’ wanderings have served as the source for fictional riffs far and wide, often ironically. In 1922, trailblazing Irish “stream of consciousness” author James Joyce published the scandalous Ulysses, shrinking the adventures down to 24 hours in the everyday, anti-heroic lives of a Dublin man, his wife, and a young stranger. In a contemporary comedic vein, the filmmaking brothers Coen (Joel and Ethan) cleverly mined Homer for 2000’s O Brother, Where Art Thou?, in which escaped convict George Clooney must survive sultry sirens, a big bad bandit, and even the Ku Klux Klan in his paternal quest to return home and keep his ex-wife from marrying her “bona fide” Southern suitor. More serious, yet seriously flawed, is director Anthony Minghella’s frigid 2003 Cold Mountain, in which a Civil War deserter (Jude Law) turns Odysseus’ trek home into a marathon with all the speed of molasses flowing uphill.

Devoted cinephiles will also know that in French New Wave auteur Jean-Luc Godard’s brilliantly modernist Contempt (1963), he cast the eminent German director Fritz Lang as “Fritz Lang,” arduously filming his version of the Odyssey at Rome’s storied Cinecittà studios. Even deeper down the meta movie rabbit hole, Lang’s feckless screenwriter (Michel Piccoli) begins to suspect his bewitching blonde wife (Brigitte Bardot) is no Penelope when it comes to keeping her marriage vows.

IMAX, Not iMac

Nolan is no stranger to cinematic risk, and has long been undaunted by the Hollywood box-office seers who’ve predicted his doom, most recently with Oppenheimer, which not only won seven Oscars (including best picture and director) but took home a billion dollars in global ticket sales. More than a few mordant observers thought he ginned up his Cold War atomic-bomb biopic with gratuitously incendiary sex scenes formulated only to feed the hydra-headed commercial hoi-polloi. Since Homer’s Odysseus (Matt Damon) has few conjugal moments with his stalwart wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway) on Ithaca, perhaps Nolan will spice up his picture with a torrid romance between his shipwrecked, pre-GPS sojourner and the lonely nymph Kalypso (Charlize Theron), who for seven years keeps him as her playmate on her fantasy island of Ogygia?

Nolan’s Olympian task will be to keep 21st-century, spectacle-seeking, text-challenged audiences captivated by a costume action drama short on spaceships, lightsabers, evil aliens, and fantastic planets. His solution no doubt will be to use the gargantuan IMAX screen like a vast immersive canvas fit for the gods as well as mortals, and where he’ll want viewers to marvel at only a fraction of the Promethean two million feet of 70mm film he shot in all, culled from locations in six countries including Greece, Italy and Morocco.

Say what you will about Nolan’s commercialized leanings that bare his artistic Achilles’ heel, but there is no question that his fidelity to the tools of old-fashioned analog filmmaking in the manner of British director David Lean (or Hollywood’s Cecil B. De Mille) puts him closer in artistic temperament to 20th century big-screen classicism than to today’s “edgy” postmodern simulated storytelling that is often as hollow and empty as, well, that legendary Trojan horse.

Honey, I’m Home!

By Zeus, Homer’s old-school Odyssey in no way lacks the big, cataclysmic, Armageddon-like climax that younger audiences have come to expect, even demand, from their blockbuster superhero fantasy flicks. Indeed, as written, Homer’s gory coup-de-grace finale that takes place with Odysseus’ ultimate return to Ithaka might test the macho directing mettle of the joined forces of Sam Peckinpah, Sergio Leone, Martin Scorsese, and Quentin Tarantino. Can audiences expect, gulp, the split-second zinger when the bloodthirsty Odysseus sends an arrow through the neck of his haughtiest rival, Antinous (Robert Pattinson), while he’s blithely downing a goblet of wine?

For all its blood, guts, and maritime thrills and spills, the Odyssey is and should be a paean to marital love and devotion, sentiments here outlasting the ravages of time, separation, war, and death itself. Whether such old-fashioned themes will score a bull’s eye with jaded audiences in an age trampled by divorce, high infidelity, and dysfunctional families is a question, for now, only the movie gods can answer.

Despite its epic length and the leagues of fleeting, faceless characters that cross paths with Odysseus and his son, ingrained in Homer’s archetypal opus is a fistful of vivid passages that have long hit home with readers from Athens to Atlanta. For this one and countless others, it’s the poignantly passing moment when the hero reaches Ithaka, 20 years on, to find his decrepit dog Argos waiting. While no one recognizes his aged and disguised master, old Fido does. And, with that, his own lifelong quest comes full circle too.

The Old English epic poem Beowulf is a classic story of darkness and light. Sinister, inhuman forces are portrayed as locked in battle with the forces of humanity and virtue. Yet, the monsters are more than just fantastical foes. They represent vices that are all too human, and they provide us with a deep insight into how the early-medieval mind viewed good and evil.

Who or What Is Grendel?

The primary antagonist of Beowulf is the creature known as Grendel. It is not clear what, or maybe who, Grendel actually is. We are first introduced to Grendel early on in the poem, around line 100, when the poet describes how the early joys of Heorot, the great hall of the Danish king, were destroyed by this monster. Grendel is described in Old English as a “grimma gaest,” which has been translated variously as “cruel spirit” (Alexander) and “grim demon” (Heaney, Williamson).

Perhaps the most significant fact about Grendel that is told to us by the poet is his ancestry. Grendel is described as a descendant of Cain, the man who slew his brother Abel in the Book of Genesis. From Cain was bred a whole series of monsters, whom God had cast out of the society of humans, according to the poet. Grendel thus has something of the human within him. As a descendant of a man who killed his own brother, we might view Grendel as an embodiment of all the worst instincts and destructive tendencies within humans. It is Grendel’s human-like quality that makes him such a terrifying being, and allows the poet to compare him closely to the poem’s hero, Beowulf.

Yet Grendel’s humanity should not be overstressed. He is a creature that devours other humans, and whose strength and ferocity are matched amongst humans by Beowulf alone. Grendel is also described as being invulnerable to swords, and so Beowulf has to tear off his arm in order to kill him. His eyes are said to contain a hellish light.

There are other things that we can say about Grendel that might point to who, or what, he is. Grendel appears to have the rough physiognomy of a human being. He is referenced as possessing hands, arms, and shoulders. He has a mother, who is also a monster of some kind. Yet, what stands out principally about the poet’s description of Grendel is the lack of physical descriptors that are used. Grendel’s hatred and malice are what define him, and the poet seems to deliberately leave his physical nature to the imagination of the audience.

Grendel’s Borderlands

Another important aspect of deciphering Grendel is where he comes from. Grendel exists on the fringes of the world of humans in Beowulf. He is described as lurking in the fens, which was likely inspired by the area of wetland swamp in eastern England, which, during the Anglo-Saxon Period, was a very prominent feature of the English landscape and mostly uninhabitable. Grendel is also described as living in the “march” or “borders,” on the edge of this world. When he captures Hrothgar’s men, he is described as dragging them off to his lair, adding further horror to the place he inhabits.

Grendel’s realm is explicitly contrasted with King Hrothgar’s great hall of Heorot, which acts as the central hearth of the poem and the center of civilization, comradeship, and joy. The hall’s “radiance lighted the lands of the world.” It is the place in which the rules and customs that uphold this society, such as the generosity of the king and queen and the loyalty of their followers, are demonstrated in the poem. Grendel’s hatred of Heorot is how we are introduced to him, and it is in some ways his defining motive in the poem.

Heorot is at the center of the poem’s world, and Grendel comes from the edges of this world. He lurks on the borders away from the great hall, in a dark and mysterious landscape. His moving from these borderlands and breaking into Heorot is the central trauma around which the first part of the poem revolves. When Beowulf slays Grendel inside Heorot, the monster retreats back to his lair to die, emphasizing the separation between the world of the hall and the world that Grendel represents.

Grendel is a representation of the dangers of the world beyond. Whether Grendel evokes a fear of invasion from foreign foes, or a supernatural fear of the monsters that were thought to roam the edges of the world in early-medieval Europe, or both, is unclear.

Some scholars have posited that Beowulf was first written down in the Viking Age, and that his depredations against Hrothgar’s hall were inspired by the brutality of Viking invasions and raids. It is also worth noting the elemental connotations of Grendel’s incursions upon Heorot. It is stated that “with the coming of the night came Grendel also,” as though the monster carried with him the fears of darkness itself. He is elsewhere described as “the walker in the night.”

The Character of Grendel

Whilst we cannot know very much about Grendel’s appearance and origins, the poet provides plenty of detail about Grendel’s character and, to some extent, his motivations. Grendel is often described in contrast to other things. He is defined to a large extent by what he hates and what he seeks to destroy.

Some scholars have seen in Grendel a perversion of the values that were central to the early-medieval North Sea world. Bravery is a primary value, yet Grendel demonstrates a reckless savagery and brutality that twists courage into a gross excess. In a world where community and kinship are central tenets of civilization, Grendel is a loner, infuriated by the gathering of people within Heorot and maddened by the sounds of communal society.

Grendel is described as being motivated by his rage against Hrothgar’s merry hall, and the poet describes the monster as entering into a feud with the king of the Danes. Blood feuds are described frequently throughout the poem, as is mentioned below, and the poet describes Grendel’s antagonism toward Heorot in similar tones.

The merriment and life brought by the hall so enrages Grendel that he wages war against King Hrothgar and his men for twelve years before Beowulf arrives. Grendel is thus an enemy who holds bitter grudges and who refuses to relinquish his hate. In a society where blood feuds were so prominent, such unrelenting bitterness and hate were arguably one of the worst traits imaginable, as it left no possibility to heal divisions and create peace.

Grendel’s Mother

Grendel’s mother is a monster whose motivations are much easier to understand, both for us and for the early-medieval world. Grendel’s mother is described by the poet as an “avenger,” who is “ailing for her loss.” In the tradition of the blood feud, she seeks a violent revenge, a “wrath-bearing visit of vengeance,” against those who destroyed her son.

Her attack seems more calculated than the attacks of Grendel. Where Grendel would wreak devastation in his attacks on Heorot, Grendel’s mother entered the hall at night, captured a single warrior, and then retreated back to her home. Her actions seem calculated and even rational according to the logic of the blood feud, whereby a life is taken in return for a life lost.

The very existence of Grendel’s mother serves to humanize Grendel in some way, as we understand that Grendel’s death has caused pain for others as well as rejoicing. Grendel’s mother is similarly outcast, as she resides in a cave underneath a lake, a residence that the poet describes as a banishment representing the punishment for the crime of her ancestor Cain.

Beowulf’s confrontation with Grendel’s mother is particularly noteworthy because it sees the eponymous hero venture into the realm of the monsters. Where Grendel was fought in the heart of the mead hall, Beowulf has to literally submerge himself in a dark and mysterious world in order to battle Grendel’s mother. This again suggests the greater vulnerability of this monster, because where her son was the hunter and Beowulf the defender, here Beowulf has become the predator, invading the monster’s lair.

The Dragon

Where Grendel was motivated by hate and a lust for blood, and his mother by vengeance, the dragon represents another all-too-human vice: greed. Nowhere is Beowulf’s influence on the works of J.R.R. Tolkien more evident than in the story of the dragon beneath the barrow. In Tolkien’s The Hobbit, the dragon Smaug is obsessively possessive of the treasure hoard that he lies upon under the Lonely Mountain, and the realization that a single cup has been stolen riles him to fiery fury. In Beowulf, it is the taking of a single goblet from the dragon’s treasure hoard that provokes it to burn the lands ruled over by Beowulf.

When the dragon is slain, its treasure hoard is bestowed by Beowulf upon his people. The poet here marks a sharp contrast between the monster’s hoarding and the generosity of Beowulf, which was a trait that was expected of a good ruler in early-medieval Northern Europe.

Unlike Grendel or his mother, Beowulf’s dragon is almost devoid of anything recognizably human in its motivations. The poet does not seek to enter the dragon’s frame of mind in the way he tries to do with the poem’s earlier monsters. The dragon is described as bound to the treasure-hoard: “he is doomed to seek out hoards in the ground,” though its motivation for doing so seems to be a bestial greed.

Yet the dragon is not totally mindless. It delights in war and fire and feud. Like Smaug in The Hobbit, the dragon has slept on its hoard for many years, and when roused by the theft of its treasure, it seems to relish an opportunity to unleash devastation. The Beowulf poet describes the dragon’s delight at the prospect of taking vengeance against the local people, and the eagerness with which it awaits nightfall before it sets flight and burns the surrounding settlements.

The dragon is viewed by some as an embodiment of fate for Beowulf. Many lines before Beowulf’s fight with the dragon begins, the poet hints to us that neither of the two combatants will survive their clash, and a sense of fate and foreboding surrounds the poet’s description of the combat. We are also told at the start of the fight that both of the combatants are in terror of the other, sensing that the conflict will be their doom.

The dragon represents a powerful enemy who brings devastation to ordinary people. In this way, the dragon is the perfect enemy for the poem’s hero, and in fighting it to the death, Beowulf can complete his heroic arc and perish as a defender of his people.

The Blood Feuds

Whilst the monsters take central stage in Beowulf in representing the forces of darkness, there is another destructive force that lurks around the edges of the poem: the blood feud. Whilst the poem centers on Beowulf’s struggles against the monsters, the poet presents a world riven by blood feuds between families and clans.

During reprieves to the central narrative of Beowulf’s conflict with the various monsters, the poet gives us a sense that most of the death and destruction in this world comes from the endless cycles of violence that plague the people of this world.

Great rulers like Beowulf are shown as bringing peace to their people, yet the description of the aftermath of Beowulf’s death points to the violence and chaos that can break out as soon as these mighty leaders are gone. Beowulf’s loyal retainer Wiglaf, when breaking the news of Beowulf’s death to the Geats, warns them that war looms over them. Wiglaf describes how long-running feuds with neighboring peoples, triggered by wars of years ago, will lead to their taking retribution on the Geats now that their leader, Beowulf, has been slain. Grudges in this world live on down the generations, and can spark fresh bloodshed at any time.

Beowulf himself speaks of feuds on his return to the Geats from Heorot. The hero describes the tragic inevitability of the feud. Marriages can make peace between people for a time, but memories of past conflict will always rise again and spark war anew. The old will relate to the young memories of battles lost and relatives slain, and so the young will be moved to vengeance, and the cycle continues.

In many ways, the blood feud is the true heart of darkness within the world of Beowulf. Monsters can be slain, and their death brings rejoicing, heroism, and unity amongst afflicted peoples. Yet, the blood feud continues from generation to generation, and the poet warns that it will bring devastation to the people of Beowulf’s world long after the hero’s death.

Libraries have long stood as pillars of knowledge and culture, evolving from ancient archives to modern public institutions. Ashurbanipal created the oldest known museum at Nineveh in the 7th century BC, housing a vast collection of cuneiform tablets. The Ptolemies built the Library of Alexandria in the 4th century BC in an attempt to centralize all human knowledge. In the United States, the concept of public libraries gained momentum in the 19th century. The Boston Public Library was established in 1848 and was among the first to offer free access to its collections. Today, libraries across the nation are not only book repositories but also architectural masterpieces and community spaces.

1. Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

Established in 1800, the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C., is the oldest federal cultural institution in the United States. Originally housed in the Capitol, it suffered significant losses during the War of 1812, when invading forces burned the building, destroying its original collection. In a pivotal move to restore its holdings, former President Thomas Jefferson sold his personal library to the institution, laying the foundation for its diverse collections.

Today, the Library encompasses three buildings, with the Thomas Jefferson Building being a highlight for visitors. Completed in 1897, the architectural marvel showcases a stunning Italian Renaissance design. Inside, the Great Hall welcomes guests with its ornate decorations, while the Main Reading Room impresses with a majestic dome and symbolic statues representing various fields of knowledge. Notably, the Library houses one of the few surviving copies of the Gutenberg Bible, a treasure displayed for public viewing.

Visitors are encouraged to explore the library’s exhibitions, which delve into diverse topics from American history to world cultures. The institution also offers free tours, providing insights into its vast collections and the building’s rich history.

2. Boston Public Library, Boston, Massachusetts

The Boston Public Library is a historic institution with a collection of over 23 million items and a stunning architectural design. Founded in 1848, it was the first large free municipal library in the U.S. and quickly grew beyond its original space. In 1895, the library moved to its iconic McKim Building in Copley Square, designed in the Italian Renaissance style.

Visitors can explore Bates Hall, the grand reading room with its high vaulted ceiling and signature green-shaded lamps. The library’s courtyard, inspired by European cloisters, offers a quiet escape in the middle of the city. Inside, murals by John Singer Sargent and Edwin Austin Abbey add to the library’s artistic appeal. The library also hosts exhibitions, lectures, and public events, making it a cultural hub.

3. New York Public Library – Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, New York City, New York

The Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, the flagship of The New York Public Library (NYPL), is a Beaux-Arts landmark located at Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street in Midtown Manhattan. Opened in 1911, it was the largest marble structure in the U.S. at that time. The building houses over one million volumes and offers free public tours highlighting its history, architecture, and collections.

When visiting, you can explore the iconic Rose Main Reading Room and various exhibitions. It features a stunning mural of a cloud-filled ceiling. In 2014, a single plaster rosette fell from the ceiling. This triggered a massive two-year, $12 million restoration where every single one of the 900 rosettes was inspected and reinforced.

4. George Peabody Library, Baltimore, Maryland

Established in 1857 by philanthropist George Peabody, the George Peabody Library in Baltimore, Maryland, is renowned for its stunning architecture and extensive 19th-century collection. Designed by architect Edmund G. Lind, the library opened in 1878 and features five tiers of ornamental cast-iron balconies rising to a skylight 61 feet above the floor.

Often referred to as a “cathedral of books,” the library houses over 300,000 volumes, with strengths in religion, British art, architecture, American history, and more. Now part of Johns Hopkins University, it serves as both a research library and an events venue, offering visitors a glimpse into its rich history and architectural beauty.

5. Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library, New Haven, Connecticut

The Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library is located at Yale University in New Haven, Connecticut. It is one of the oldest universities in the U.S. in continuous operation, and one of the world’s largest libraries dedicated exclusively to rare books and manuscripts. Established in 1963, it serves as a vital resource for scholars, researchers, and students.

Designed by architect Gordon Bunshaft of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill, the library is renowned for its distinctive modernist architecture. Its exterior features a windowless façade constructed from translucent Vermont marble panels, which allow natural light to filter into the interior while protecting the rare materials from direct sunlight. This design creates a unique, softly illuminated environment within the library.

Inside, the library houses some of the most valuable literary artifacts in existence. Among its prized possessions is a rare Gutenberg Bible, one of only 48 known copies. It also holds the Voynich Manuscript, a mysterious book filled with undeciphered text and unusual illustrations. The archives include the personal papers of influential writers such as Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, and James Joyce.

Open to the public, the library offers exhibitions showcasing its extraordinary collection. Researchers can access the reading room by appointment, while casual visitors can admire the breathtaking six-story glass-enclosed book tower.

6. Harold Washington Library, Chicago, Illinois

The Harold Washington Library Center stands as a cornerstone of Chicago’s intellectual and cultural landscape. Opened in 1991, it was named in honor of Harold Washington, the city’s first African American mayor, who championed education and public resources. Towering over the South Loop, its design blends classical and modern influences, with red brick, grand arched windows, and distinctive rooftop acroteria. These are massive, sculpted owls that symbolize wisdom and learning.

Inside, the library spans ten floors, offering an immense collection of books, digital resources, and dedicated spaces for learning and creativity. The grand entrance leads visitors into an open, welcoming space, while deeper inside, the Thomas Hughes Children’s Library provides a vibrant hub for young readers. The Maker Lab fosters innovation with 3D printers and technology tools, while the Harold Washington Archives preserve the legacy of the man who inspired its creation.

At the top, the breathtaking Winter Garden bathes in natural light, serving as a quiet retreat for study or reflection. Beyond its shelves and exhibits, the library remains a gathering place, hosting lectures, performances, and community programs.

7. The Morgan Library & Museum, New York City, New York

In the heart of New York City, The Morgan Library & Museum stands as a testament to the rich tapestry of art, literature, and history. Originally the private library of financier J. Pierpont Morgan, this institution has evolved into a public museum and research library, offering visitors a unique glimpse into the world of rare manuscripts, art, and architecture.

Designed by Charles Follen McKim of the renowned firm McKim, Mead & White, the library was constructed between 1902 and 1906. Its design draws inspiration from Italian Renaissance villas, featuring a grand façade and intricate interiors. The library’s main room, with its soaring ceilings and rich woodwork, houses an impressive collection of rare books and manuscripts, reflecting Morgan’s passion for collecting.

The Morgan’s collection is vast and varied, encompassing rare books, manuscripts, drawings, and artifacts. Highlights include a Gutenberg Bible from the 15th century and original manuscripts of literary giants such as Charles Dickens and Mark Twain. The museum also boasts an impressive collection of musical scores, including works by Mozart and Beethoven. In a recent discovery, a previously unknown waltz by Frédéric Chopin was found in the library’s archives, adding to the legacy of groundbreaking finds within its walls.

Visitors can step back in time as they explore Morgan’s private study, a room lined with historic tomes, rich tapestries, and a commanding fireplace. Throughout the museum, rotating exhibits bring fresh perspectives on history, literature, and the arts.

8. Los Angeles Central Library, Los Angeles, California

Los Angeles is a city of reinvention, and its Central Library is no exception. At first glance, its mix of Art Deco, Egyptian Revival, and Mediterranean influences might seem unusual, but in many ways, it mirrors the city itself. It is a blend of cultures, histories, and unexpected beauty. Designed by Bertram Goodhue and opened in 1926, the library’s striking tiled pyramid, adorned with a golden sunburst, crowns its place in the downtown skyline, a quiet monument in a city of constant motion.

But the library’s story is also one of survival. In 1986, an arson fire nearly destroyed it, reducing hundreds of thousands of books to ash. What followed was not just a restoration but a rebirth, culminating in the addition of the Tom Bradley Wing in 1993.

Today, visitors enter a living testament to the city’s resilience. The rotunda still carries its intricate murals of California’s past, while the eight-story atrium of the Bradley Wing floods the space with light, a quiet reminder that knowledge, like Los Angeles itself, refuses to be extinguished.

Far beyond its shelves, the library serves as a cultural crossroads. It offers a gathering place for art lovers, history buffs, and those simply seeking a moment of stillness in the city’s endless rush.

9. The St. Louis Public Library, St. Louis, Missouri

The St. Louis Public Library, established in 1865, has grown from a subscription-based entity into a comprehensive public library system serving the city of St. Louis.

Its Central Library, designed by renowned architect Cass Gilbert and opened in 1912, stands as a testament to early 20th-century architectural grandeur. The library’s collection has expanded significantly over the years, reflecting its commitment to providing diverse resources to the community.

Today, the St. Louis Public Library offers a wide range of programs and services, including digital makerspaces known as Creative Experience, available at multiple locations for patrons of all ages. Through its evolution, the library continues to adapt and innovate, ensuring that it meets the changing needs of its patrons while preserving its rich history.

10. Suzzallo Library, Seattle, Washington

Suzzallo Library, the central library of the University of Washington in Seattle, opened in 1926 and was named after Henry Suzzallo, the university’s fifteenth president.  Designed in the Collegiate Gothic style by architects Charles H. Bebb and Carl F. Gould, the library was intended to be the “soul of the university.”

Visitors are often drawn to the Graduate Reading Room, a grand space measuring 250 feet in length, 52 feet in width, and 65 feet in height. This room features a vaulted ceiling adorned with vibrantly colored and gilded details, oak bookcases topped with hand-carved friezes of native plants, and tall leaded windows with stained glass panels reproducing Renaissance watermarks.

The library’s exterior is equally impressive, with terra cotta sculptures of influential thinkers and artists, including Moses, Louis Pasteur, Dante Alighieri, and Shakespeare, selected by the faculty. Stone coats of arms from universities around the world, such as Toronto, Louvain, Virginia, California, Yale, Heidelberg, Bologna, Oxford, Paris, Harvard, Stanford, Michigan, Uppsala, and Salamanca, also adorn the façade.

Suzzallo Library is also a destination for those interested in architecture and history. Its design and ambiance have earned it the nickname “Cathedral of Books,” reflecting its status as a sanctuary for learning.

11. The Boston Athenaeum, Boston, Massachusetts

While the Boston Public Library was built as a “palace for the people,” the Athenaeum was founded in 1807 as a private, independent library to house a large portion of George Washington’s personal library. Founded by members of the Anthology Society, it is still a membership library, and patrons pay a yearly subscription fee to use its services.

At first, the library rented rooms, then, in 1809, they bought a small house adjacent to the King’s Chapel Burying Ground. In 1822, it moved into a mansion on Pearl Street, and in the 1840s, it moved to its current location at 10 ½ Beacon Street, the first space designed specifically for the library’s needs.

The library holds over 100,000 rare volumes and an art collection of 100,000 paintings, sculptures, prints, drawings, photographs, and decorative arts. These include a 1799 set of Goya’s Los Caprichos and Gilbert Stuart’s unfinished portraits of George and Martha Washington.

12. Geisel Library, UC San Diego, La Jolla, California

The Geisel is the main library building of the University of California, San Diego. It is named for Audrey and Theodor Seuss Geisel, the latter better known by his pen name Dr Seuss. Designed by William Pereira, it opened in 1970 as a mix of brutalism and futurism.

The library holds over seven million volumes, including the Dr Seuss Collection, which contains original drawings, sketches, proofs, notebooks, manuscript drafts, photographs, memorabilia, and more.

Unusually, the library’s lower floors are numbered one and two, while the upper levels are numbered three and four. This gave rise to the idea that the third floor is sealed off. In reality, the “missing” third floor is an outside forum.

13. Folger Shakespeare Library, Washington, D.C.

The Folger is an independent research library on DC’s Capitol Hill and holds the world’s largest collection of printed works of William Shakespeare. It is also the primary repository for rare materials from early modern Britain and Europe between 1500 and 1750.

The library was founded by Standard Oil of New York executive Henry Clay Folger, who was an avid collector of Shakespeareana. He built the library with his wife to house their collection, which included a 1685 Fourth Folio.

The building was designed by architect Paul Philippe Cret and features a white marble exterior with nine carved reliefs of scenes from Shakespeare’s plays by John Gregory. Inside the building is designed in Tudor style, and the lobby is designed in the style of an Elizabethan Theater.

14. Fisher Fine Arts Library, UPenn, Philadelphia, PA

The Fisher Fine Arts Library was the primary library of the University of Pennsylvania from 1891 to 1962. The original design was considered innovative, with five stories of reading rooms and stacks built around a tower staircase. The building is a red sandstone brick and terracotta Venetian design that looks like a mix of a fortress and a cathedral.

The Main Reading Room is a soaring four stories, divided by an arcade from a two-story Rotunda Reading Room with a basilica plan. It also features Gargoyle vents that form a functional part of the ventilation system.

15. Linda Hall Library, Kansas City, MO

The Linda Hall Library is a private STEM library that sits on a 14-acre urban arboretum. It was established in 1946 through the philanthropy of Linda and Herbert Hall with the ambition of acting as a guardian of the collective intellectual heritage of science, technology, and engineering.

The library holds over two million items, starting with 62,358 books assembled by John Adams before he became president. It owns first-edition copies of some of the most important scientific works in history, including Newton’s Principia, Darwin’s On the Origin of the Species, and Galileo’s Sidereus Nuncius. The arboretum grounds are home to over 338 trees representing 52 genera and 145 species.