Itself a compilation and translation of myriad earlier works, Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur is the source of most of today's Arthurian fiction, and it was certainly Pyle's source. Though I had no right to call Pyle's prose liturgical; compared to this, he's a regular James Joyce. Malory's prose narrative ("the wholle booke of Arthur", as he wanted to title it) is chopped, brittle, repetitive, confusing, certainly archaic, but truly fascinating and ultimately rewarding.
There are several different levels on which one could enjoy this work. The vocabulary alone makes this worth a read: where else can we encounter lost words like bisene, maugre, froward, hight, dight, and pight? Or lost usages like medley (battle), maiden (pure young man), siege (seat, chair), or (before), glamour (magic spell), and churl (simple peasant, no negative connotation)?Another enjoyable approach to this book is to take it as a catalog of common characters, plots, genres, and other modern-day storytelling elements we take for granted. Within the pages I find traditional fantasy adventures - slaying giants, rescuing maidens, shape-shifting, casting spells, retrieving enchanted objects which bestow power - alongside the modern sports movie, war movie, superhero movie, and political drama, complete with James Bond one-liners and a goofy buddy sidekick. One story involves Lancelot fighting a knight with one hand tied behind his back. Then we get to the quest for the Holy Grail, and the brilliant, gorgeous allegorical images steep us into the best of medieval visionary literature.
Perhaps my favorite angle from which to take Le Morte D'Arthur is as a study in what makes a story good, and in what scuttles a good story. Malory's prose is very literal, at times a bare recitation of events and plot points in quick succession. Given such a limited sphere to work in, we still see real human emotion, psychology, and folly shine through in the facts of the stories, and the bits that show a glimmer of storyteller's art shine forth stunningly.
On the flip side, Malory seems to show little concern for what we would consider the modern storyteller's responsibilities. Several episodes are abandoned mid-plot - even the fate of Sir Tristram, whose adventures form the basis of the middle third of the book, is only revealed in a narrative aside several hundred pages later. Key plot points which will affect other stories down the line are only experienced as foreshadowing or in a quick backward glance - "By the way, Sir Lamork was slain traitorously by Sir Gawain after the tournament." Also, though the book starts with Arthur's birth and ends with his death, everything in between occurs in a highly jumbled timeline. For example, during an early battle to quell rebellion in England, Arthur wields Excalibur and leads his knights of the Round Table against the foe. Later, Arthur obtains Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake. After that, he establishes the Round Table for the first time... Character names are repeated, and many characters, plots, and events come in twos or threes. There are two swords in the stone, two ladies of the lake, two different injured kings in the Grail story (injured by two different dolorous strokes), two different high political love triangles, countless mysterious boats that come floating in out of nowhere, and several pseudo-Merlins who fill his role after he makes his inglorious exit. This widespread disorganization and confusion makes for a very challenging read, yet it is also exhilirating. And it makes those odd moments of clarity and intentionality stand out even more.
Arbitrary rating: 4 out of 5 glimmers of the storyteller's art
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