An Admirable Guenevere

So it's been several (ahem!) years since my thesis about Arthurian revisions, but I still love a good Matter-of-Britain-inspired tale -- knights and maidens remade (if not always improved) -- and it's so freeing not to have to make a roomful of notes and glean an argument from the detritus of my impressions. Well, really, that way of reading became something of a habit I had to/have to break . . . slowly. I still make notes, leave little coloured bits of post-its (or scraps of paper) within the pages next to a passage I want to remember later, dog ear, scribble long passages of reactions in my reading journal (the one that isn't this blog).

All this is just an intro to say that, after all these years, I've finally come across a novel I WISH had been written when I was penning that thesis. I would have enjoyed comparing Mercedes Lackey's Gwenhwyfar: The White Spirit to, say, the less well-realized revision of Guenevere provided by Rosalind Miles.

A really solid story all on its own, with a strong character in Gwen, Lackey takes as her departure point the idea that there were three separate and distinct Gueneveres. Her Guenevere is the third, and last.(aside: the three Gueneveres comes from one of the many disparate -- in this case, Welsh -- legends that are less well known than what has become the pop culture version of the Arthurian legend. There are a variety of stories connected to Arthur that have been collected and recollected over hundreds of years, and in different countries. Some of the legends are less, shall we say, male-centred than Malory's famous Works and Tennyson's Idylls of the King, but many of the most popular interpretations of the Arthurian legend have been derived/diluted/distilled from Malory and Tennyson. Feminist revisions of the tales tend to look outside of the aforementioned for inspiration or, at least, write against them).

This tale of Gwen begins when she is a child, daughter of a respected king and a queen well-steeped in goddess Power. From early on it is obvious that Gwen is marked by the goddess for greatness. But which goddess? And what greatness? Shall she join the Ladies with her mother, or follow a warrior's course and spend her life with men and horses? She chooses Epona (goddess of horses) and she grows into a life of hard work, scouting, and battles. From a pre-teen who does her best to avoid an obnoxious, self-focused little sister (also named Gwen) to an intelligent, courageous scout who seeks (and gains) the respect of Arthur's visiting Companion, Lancelin (Lancelot), the characterization never falters. Gwen is strong, believably human, and engaging. Her talent with horses, her ability to go virtually unseen when she wishes, and her slight frame and white-gold hair lends itself to the legend of the White Spirit or Ghost who haunts and harries the enemy Saxon camps. She is a successful warrior, respected by men in a man's game (even in this, more feminist, retelling, the world is still run by and for men, it seems).

Gwen is succeeding, making her way in this male-dominated world of the warrior. Succeeding, that is, until Arthur needs another queen. Using up Gwenhwyfars like a man with a cold uses kleenex, Arthur's advisors (Christian and non) turn to the daughter of King Lleudd to solve the queenship puzzle and, theoretically, provide an heir. It's a marriage of convenience that becomes complicated by the previous attachment between Gwen and Lancelin. And complicated by Medraut (Mordred) and his thirst for power (aided and abetted by Gwen's little sister).

What I really liked about this novel? As aforementioned, the characterization is quite wonderful. All of the characters (with the possible exception of Arthur) are fully realized (even the bit players). I liked Gwen particularly. An interesting portrait of a strong, capable, intelligent Gwen (unlike the weak Guenevere of Zimmer Bradley or the raunchy Guenevere of Miles), from resilient child to admirable woman. I liked the connection, based on respect, between her and Lancelin. This is neither a tawdry affair based on lust nor is it strictly a set-up on the part of Mordred (or, in this novel, Medraut). It is a mature, realistic love that has its own tragic elements.

What didn't I like? Merlin and Arthur take a little bit of a beating in terms of going towards the 'dark side.' Neither character is particularly heroic although Arthur is described as a brilliant, if heavily Romanized, organizer and warrior who commands the love and loyalties of his Companions. And he is described as being charismatic, but also cloaked with possibly Merlin-generated glamorie (casting doubt on the origin of all that charisma and loyalty). Merlin is just plain creepy and . . . well . . . rather nasty. This is not inconsistent with a reading of some of the tales, mind you. It's just not my preferred version of Merlin and Arthur. Medraut, on the other hand, was brilliantly drawn. Creepy and evil in just the right proportions.

Finally, I was a bit disappointed that even in a land that prizes and respects its females in a variety of roles (King Lleudd's land, not the Romanized world of Arthur) there is still that tension between being woman and warrior that Gwen is forced to face. She learns she cannot really be both. I would have thought in a land where following Epona is a legitimate choice for a girl the tension would have been less. Alas.

Overall, this was a highly readable tale for its own sake with strong and fascinating characters. There are twists and turns aplenty (the various versions of the legend afford great depth of creative movement in retellings and Lackey takes full advantage) and I found myself reading on the edge of my seat during the last third of the book. And as a feminist addition to a male-dominated legend, it stands well with some of the best (I'm still not sure anyone has been able to beat Mary Stewart's Merlin trilogy though . . . personal preference).