Wuthering Heights: “I own I did not like her, after infancy was past”

One common complaint about Wuthering Heights, which I have always found strange, is that the characters are all detestable. True, but it doesn’t bother me. When I read a novel, only two things matter:

• 1/ Are the characters well-delineated? Are they alive (within the world of the novel)?
• 2/ Is the author good at what she’s doing—what she has set out to do? Do I like the author? 

The characters of Wuthering Heights, generally speaking, are various shades of unpleasantness, but they’re very much alive. They feel, they love, they hate, they change and grow. 

Now when I reread Wuthering Heights, I love it even more as I see things previously missed, and see the characters differently. Nelly Dean is no longer a sane, sensible, trustworthy housekeeper—she is judgemental, manipulative, unreliable—she takes part in the bullying of Heathcliff as a child, meddles in others’ affairs, causes the rift between Heathcliff and Catherine, provokes Catherine in front of Edgar Linton, neglects Cathy in Edgar Linton’s absence (and gives her the chance to sneak off to Wuthering Heights), and so on. Heathcliff is one of the most brutal and vengeful characters in fiction and perhaps there’s always been some savagery in him, but at the same time Emily Bronte lets us see what years of prejudice, hate, and injustice do to a person—as Shakespeare does with the character of Shylock—and part of the art of Wuthering Heights is in the depiction of a villainous character from the perspective of someone who dislikes and despises him from the start and perhaps has contributed to that villainy. I think there’s also some envy in that hostility, as Heathcliff is an outsider brought into the house and getting preferential treatment from Mr Earnshaw, whereas Nelly Dean is a servant and forever a servant. 

I also see Hindley Earnshaw differently. He has treated Heathcliff abominably, he has been a bully, but is his hatred of Heathcliff not understandable? From the start, the appearance of Heathcliff in the house goes together with the present he wanted that got broken. The new boy, with unknown parentage, also usurps his place and gets special treatment from his father. It is no wonder that Hindley is angry for years, and puts Heathcliff “in his place” after the death of Mr Earnshaw. As he becomes self-destructive after the loss of his life and drinks himself to death, neglecting his own son, I can’t help seeing him as a tragic figure. 

Linton Heathcliff is another character that I now see differently. 

“I divined, from this account, that utter lack of sympathy had rendered young Heathcliff selfish and disagreeable, if he were not so originally; and my interest in him, consequently, decayed: though still I was moved with a sense of grief at his lot, and a wish that he had been left with us.” (ch.21) 

I remember last time feeling irritated by his peevishness, pettiness, and self-absorption, and disliking his contemptuous attitude towards Hareton Earnshaw. 

“… the boy finding animation enough while discussing Hareton’s faults and deficiencies, and relating anecdotes of his goings on; and the girl relishing his pert and spiteful sayings, without considering the ill-nature they evinced. I began to dislike, more than to compassionate Linton, and to excuse his father in some measure for holding him cheap.” (ibid.)

But this time I just feel sorry for Linton, so ill and weak, so cruelly used by his own father. So bent on revenge, Heathcliff has no love or concern for anyone else, bullying his own son and calling Linton “a pitiful, shuffling, worthless thing”. 

“Linton here started from his slumber in bewildered terror, and asked if any one had called his name.

“No,” said Catherine; “unless in dreams. I cannot conceive how you manage to doze out of doors, in the morning.”

“I thought I heard my father,” he gasped, glancing up to the frowning nab above us. “You are sure nobody spoke?”” (ch.26) 

Why did I, in my first reading, not notice how pathetic and terrified he was? 

This is a masterful novel. Emily Bronte is a great writer, I love her prose, and I suppose one of the reasons I like her is that, even though she depicts some selfish and terrible characters, hers is not a bleak, misanthropic view of humanity: Wuthering Heights is about the cycle of hate and violence, but love and compassion break that cycle. 

Some further thoughts on the Oscars

Last night I watched the Oscars. Why did I do that to myself?, some of you might ask. I don’t know. Some of the wins were shocking.

I suppose it says something about the Oscars—and Hollywood as a whole—that a film such as Sinners is so celebrated, with 16 nominations and 4 wins. But unlike many people on the internet, I don’t think it’s entirely political—Sinners is popular, and that popularity is revealing about the lack of discernment among the audience, among people in the film industry and in film criticism. One may argue that the Oscar for Best Cinematography going to Sinners is political—Train Dreams has much better visual storytelling, much more interesting framing, much more memorable shots—but Autumn Durald Arkapaw became the first female cinematographer to win an Oscar. One may argue that the Best Actor award for Michael B. Jordan is political, as he’s the weakest of the five nominees—the other four are all better, Timothée Chalamet in Marty Supreme and Ethan Hawke in Blue Moon especially carry the whole film. But Sinners *is* popular. I can see the hype online. I can see that lots of people don’t seem to notice that it’s a stupid film, a complete mess in which the director constantly spoonfeeds the audience. I can see lots of people go mad over Michael B. Jordan’s performance as the twins, sounding like they have only watched five films their whole lives and the other four are Marvel. It’s nonsensical that the Oscar for Best Actor is awarded to Michael B. Jordan instead of Ethan Hawke, Timothée Chalamet, or Wagner Moura. It’s even more laughable that the award for Best Original Screenplay goes to Sinners instead of Sentimental Value or Blue Moon.  

These choices are as ridiculous as the Best Picture for The Shape of Water, Best Cinematography for Mank, and Best Editing for Bohemian Rhapsody. Does anyone take the Oscars seriously?

I also don’t like One Battle After Another, the one that won Best Picture (though of course I was relieved it didn’t go to goddamn Sinners). This has been a strong year (especially compared to last year and the year of Everything Everywhere All at Once), but the great films of 2025 are Train Dreams and Sentimental Value; you could also make the case for The Secret Agent, an engrossing film that constantly changes directions and defies our expectations. One Battle After Another is a fun, well-crafted film but it’s essentially empty and forgettable—it doesn’t have the depth or complexity of Paul Thomas Anderson’s best films, Phantom Thread and There Will Be Blood. 

(I suppose I don’t particularly mind that Paul Thomas Anderson won Best Directing for One Battle After Another—it is a well-directed film—it just feels like the voters decided it was time for him to finally get an Oscar after so many nominations, the same way Martin Scorsese made many great films only to win for The Departed). 

I guess it’s on me, to pay attention to the Oscars. What a joke. 

PS: My friend Himadri, who lives in the past and generally doesn’t like today’s films, has just watched and thought highly of Train Dreams. 

PPS: The ceremony was all right. Conan O’Brien was quite a funny host—my favourite part was his joke at the very end, after the last announcement. The worst part was Javier Bardem—now that gave me second-hand embarrassment. 

Wuthering Heights: “who would have thought you were born in one year?”

1/ One trouble with screen adaptations is that you form a mental image of a character because of various actors, only to return to the book and realise that the character is much younger. Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice for example is only 25. Colonel Brandon in Sense and Sensibility is only 35. So I have been rereading Wuthering Heights, and realised that the characters are younger than I remembered. 

Heathcliff and Catherine grow up together. In the latest (travesty of a) film, they’re portrayed by 28-year-old Jacob Elordi and 35-year-old Margot Robbie, but in the novel, their entire love story is in their teens. That affects the way you see the characters (the same way I feel like people who are harsh on Romeo and Juliet seem to forget that Juliet is only 13 and Romeo is around 16-17). When Catherine dies about halfway through the novel, she’s only 18 and Heathcliff is 19—this makes her waywardness and impetuosity more understandable, but makes his savagery, violence, and vindictiveness more terrifying. Isabella is also 18, several months younger than Catherine, so it’s understandable that she falls for Heathcliff and perversely ignores both her brother, who dearly loves her, and Catherine, who understands Heathcliff better than anyone else does.  

Another intriguing aspect of their age is that Heathcliff runs away at 16—what does he do at that age and how does he make money in those 3 years? 

Now look at other characters. Hindley is only 21 when he loses his wife Frances, and 27 when he dies. Is it not heartbreaking that he becomes self-destructive and drinks himself to death at 27? But another surprise to me, as I reread Wuthering Heights, is that Nelly Dean’s the same age as Hindley, just a few months younger. I now see that Nelly Dean is a judgemental, manipulative, unreliable woman, which I didn’t quite realise when reading the novel the first time years ago; I also realise that she’s only 26 when Catherine dies, and 22-23 when she causes the rift between Catherine and Heathcliff. 

Note too that Nelly Dean is 14 when Mr Earnshaw brings home the boy Heathcliff, and she joins Hindley in hating and bullying the outsider. She’s a servant, but she also grows up with the main characters. 

2/ I don’t know if I’m going to have anything more interesting to say about Wuthering Heights, so for now I’m just going to say that it is an ingenious novel, carefully constructed, with vivid and well-delineated characters. What a mad imagination! Emily is the genius of the family. 

People tend to name Middlemarch as the greatest British novel, but I much prefer Bleak House and Wuthering Heights. 

Oscars 2026 [updated]

I guess my interest in the Oscars waxes and wanes.

Even now, I have seen only 2 of the 10 films nominated for Best Picture last year, and have little inclination to see the rest any time soon. This time the nominees are better. 

This is possibly how I would rank them: 

Train Dreams: visually interesting, poetic, and moving. This is a great film about an ordinary man, about life and loss, about grief. Probably not the kind of films that would win an Oscar for Best Picture—it’s quiet and subtle—but Adolpho Veloso should win Best Cinematography. Can I hope? I still can’t believe that Best Cinematography went to Roma and Mank. 

Sentimental Value: possibly a tie with Train Dreams. Train Dreams is more visually interesting but Sentimental Value has a more complex narrative—it’s about life and art, about a man’s estranged relationship with his two daughters, about his attempt to reconcile with them and create together a personal film. Joachim Trier gets us to see, more or less, the lives of four characters—the father/ film director, the two daughters, and the actress—and the film has quite a few strong performances, particularly Renate Reinsve and Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas. The Oscar for Best International Feature Film might end up going to The Voice of Hind Rajab (for political reasons), but I would be happy if Sentimental Value wins. 

The Secret Agent: this is in a way a messy film—where is the story going?—but it’s constantly changing and the messiness is part of the charm. Amusingly, the most bizarre—even surreal—part of the film is based on a real thing in Brazilian history. The only thing I don’t like about it is the gore. If Best International Feature Film doesn’t go to Sentimental Value, which I think is a more sophisticated film, I wouldn’t mind if it goes to The Secret Agent. 

Blue Moon: this one is not nominated for Best Picture, but for Best Original Screenplay and Best Actor. Visually there isn’t much; it’s a dialogue-driven film. Part of my fondness for it is because I love the song “Blue Moon” (who doesn’t?) and Lorenz Hart—at least the Lorenz Hart in the film—loves Casablanca. If Sentimental Value doesn’t win Best Original Screenplay, I would be happy if it goes to Blue Moon.  

Marty Supreme: I know everyone finds Timothée Chalamet irritating now, but I’m sorry to say that he is good in Marty Supreme—he carries the whole film. The strongest performances this year are possibly Ethan Hawke and Timothée Chalamet, though they’re nowhere near the same level as Anthony Hopkins in The Father—if we’re talking about the past 10 years—and Wagner Moura and Leonardo DiCaprio are also very good (I don’t mind anyone winning as long as it’s not Michael B. Jordan). The film as a whole is all right. 

F1: this is a formulaic film, not as good as Ford v Ferrari, and not the kind of things one watches more than once. But I place it above Sinners and Bugonia because it’s well-paced, coherent, and entertaining. 

Sinners: you don’t even have to watch Sinners to know it doesn’t deserve 16 Oscar nominations—more than anything else in history. I loved the music, I enjoyed some individual sequences, I liked the first 40 minutes (the film is 2 hours 17 minutes), but it’s a mess of a film. Some people are going to get offended, but I would say that Sentimental Value and Train Dreams are films for adults and Sinners is a film for children, not because it has vampires but because Ryan Coogler constantly spoonfeeds the audience with exposition and unnecessary flashbacks, and because the film pretends to be deep and serious by bringing in the race issue and creating a forced metaphor. The only Oscars it deserves to win are for Original Score, Original Song, maybe Makeup and Hairstyling, maybe Visual Effects. The reason the messiness of The Secret Agent works but Sinners doesn’t is that The Secret Agent constantly changes direction and yet there’s a centre (the main character), whereas Sinners confusingly moves between the black-gangsters-opening-a-juke-joint plot, the vampire plot, and the KKK plot. 

One Battle After Another: I don’t dislike it the way I dislike Sinners, but my problem with One Battle After Another is that I don’t really know what it’s doing and what it’s meant to say. Why does it get 13 nominations? I have no idea. The only thing I’d like it to win is Best Actor in a Supporting Role for Sean Penn, who is the best part of the film (though I dislike him personally). The second best part of the film is the road—and the chasing scene—that is the Best Road in Cinema. 

Bugonia: my problem with Bugonia, as with other films by Yorgos Lanthimos (especially Poor Things), is that he has style and I was (more or less) enjoying it whilst watching, but came to dislike its vision and ideas after thinking about it. This is a film of a misanthrope. One positive thing I can say is that I generally don’t like Emma Stone as an actress, but she’s good in this one. Do I think she’s going to win an Oscar? No, my guess is that Best Actress will go to Jessie Buckley, but I’ve only seen 2 of the nominated performances.  

Frankenstein: there isn’t much I can say about it, as I only lasted about 30 minutes. All I’m going to say is that Guillermo del Toro is one of the worst directors working today and I still think it’s a joke that The Shape of Water won Best Picture several years ago. 

Not ranked: 

Hamnet: I haven’t seen it, as I’ve got the impression it’s made for a certain kind of audience that doesn’t include me. Judging by conversations online, I suppose Jessie Buckley is going to win an Oscar for Best Actress. 

Update on 15/3:

Best Actor: 

My wish: Ethan Hawke in Blue Moon or Timothée Chalamet in Marty Supreme 

My prediction: Wagner Moura in The Secret Agent

Winner: Michael B. Jordan in Sinners

Best Supporting Actor:

My wish: Sean Penn in One Battle After Another

My prediction: Sean Penn in One Battle After Another

Winner: Sean Penn in One Battle After Another

Best Actress: 

My wish: None 

My prediction: Jessie Buckley in Hamnet 

Winner: Jessie Buckley in Hamnet 

Best Supporting Actress:

My wish: Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas in Sentimental Value 

My prediction: Wunmi Mosaku in Sinners 

Winner: Amy Madigan in Weapons 

Best Cinematography: 

My wish: Adolpho Veloso for Train Dreams 

My prediction: Adolpho Veloso for Train Dreams

Winner: Autumn Durald Arkapaw for Sinners

Best Editing: 

My wish: None 

My prediction: Stephen Mirrione for F1 or Andy Jurgensen for One Battle After Another 

Winner: Andy Jurgensen for One Battle After Another 

Best Original Song: 

My wish: Sinners

My prediction: Sinners

Winner: KPop Demon Hunters

Best Score: 

My wish: Sinners

My prediction: Sinners

Winner: Sinners

Best Original Screenplay: 

My wish: Sentimental Value 

My prediction: Marty Supreme 

Winner: Sinners

Best Adapted Screenplay: 

My wish: None 

My prediction: Hamnet 

Winner: One Battle After Another 

Best International Film: 

My wish: Sentimental Value

My prediction: The Secret Agent

Winner: Sentimental Value

Best Director: 

My wish: Joachim Trier for Sentimental Value 

My prediction: Paul Thomas Anderson for One Battle After Another 

Winner: Paul Thomas Anderson for One Battle After Another 

Best Picture: 

My wish: Train Dreams or Sentimental Value 

My prediction: One Battle After Another 

Winner: One Battle After Another 

Generally speaking, I think the films that dominate the Oscars this year are going to be One Battle After Another and then Sinners. 

Metamorphoses: “I would, I want—and can’t”

Telethusa and her daughter Iphis praying that the gods turn Iphis into a man (print made by Antonio Tempesta). 

1/ Even in a book full of rapes, the myth of Tereus, Philomela, and Procne might still be the most brutal in Metamorphoses. That Procne kills her own son to punish her husband for having raped her sister is rather “refreshing” though, considering that Leucothoe’s father buries her alive after she’s raped by the sun god. 

I have now read 3 literary works that depict a character taking revenge on someone by feeding them their own children: this story in Ovid, Thyestes by Seneca, and Titus Andronicus by Shakespeare. And this one is the least ridiculous (no, I’m not a fan of Titus Andronicus at all). 

2/ After a while, Metamorphoses can sometimes feel rather exhausting, as Ovid moves from one myth to another and there’s no sense of a forward movement. I much prefer the long narratives of Homer, or the exploration of a handful characters as in the plays of Sophocles. 

Not only so, some of the stories in Ovid require the reader to have been acquainted with the myths; most are fleshed out enough to work as stories on their own, but some feel abrupt and wouldn’t make much sense without prior knowledge, such as the story of Medea—Ovid doesn’t quite explain why Jason abandons Medea and marries someone else that lead to her killing the new wife and her own children with Jason. 

3/ As I’m interested in characters and the human mind, I love it when Ovid explores the conflicts, the contradictions in his characters. Ovid doesn’t really explore the mind of Procne or Medea, for example (though in the case of Medea, it could be because Ovid wrote a play about Medea that unfortunately didn’t survive), but he does portray Althaea getting torn between her love for her own son and the urge to avenge her brothers, and Byblis struggling with her incestuous feelings for her twin brother. He depicts their streams of thoughts, as in a novel—gives them more complexity, more depth—and these are some of my favourite parts in Metamorphoses. 

“… Ay me! How do I fall! 

What fire my heart has caught! With trembling hand 

She starts the sentences her thoughts have framed. 

Her right hand holds the pen, her left the wax. 

She starts, she pauses, writes and thinks it wrong. 

Restarts, erases, alters, likes, dislikes, 

Puts down the tablet, picks it up again, 

Not knowing what she wants, and finding fault 

With everything as soon as settled. Shame

Mingles with resolution in her face.

‘Your sister’ she had written, but decided 

‘Sister’ were best erased, and on the wax, 

Its surface smoothed, incised these sentences.” 

(Book 9) 

(translated by A. D. Melville) 

Now this is very good—this brings Ovid closer to Shakespeare and Tolstoy. 

(The quote in the headline comes from the myth of Althaea and Meleager in Book 8). 

4/ The myth of Iphis in Book 9 probably appeals to some readers because of the “transgender” aspect—she is transformed into a man at the end—but to me it’s much more interesting as a story about misogyny, about being raised as the other sex (still a thing today), and about same-sex love. 

“… Only nature stands 

Unwilling, nature mightier than them all—

To work my woe. See now the longed-for time

Is come, the day to link our love dawns bright; 

Ianthe shall be mine… It cannot be! 

No, in the midst of water I shall thirst…” 

(Book 9) 

Metamorphoses does contain everything. 

My time in America

After the work event, I explored a bit of Washington, DC and saw a bit of Northern California. A bit of the east and a bit of the west. 

In Washington, DC, I visited the Library of Congress, saw the Gutenberg Bible and the content of Abraham Lincoln’s pockets when he was shot and the exhibition about George Washington and King George III (for the 250th anniversary); went to the National Archives Museum, saw the US Constitution and the Bill of Rights and the Declaration of Independence; explored the National Air and Space Museum and saw many cool things including Neil Armstrong’s Apollo 11 Spacesuit and a space rock older than the Earth. Envious, aren’t you? It’s awesome—in the original sense of inspiring awe—to finally see these foundational documents after having grown up with American films and history. 

That’s not all. I also had a burger at Lucky Buns, ate Vietnamese food at Eden Centre in Virginia (quails!), went to a few supermarkets (why is everything huge in America?), looked inside a Trader Joe’s (America is a strange place), and met a Twitter friend (Susan). 

The contrast between that and my time in Northern California is fascinating, not only because of the differences between East and West Coast but also because my time in DC was (primarily) an American experience—going back to its foundation, seeing the documents that made the States the States—whereas my time in Northern California was (primarily) a Vietnamese American experience. I did see San Francisco (how could I not?)—the Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay Bridge, de Young Museum and the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art—but my visit was mostly to see my relatives—on both my mum’s side and my dad’s side—and experience Tết in San Jose. And what an experience that was. My first Tết in California. My first Tết with firecrackers. My time with Vietnamese people in California has made me realise I’m a very bad Vietnamese—I can only console myself that at least I still love mắm tôm and nước mắm, I have read Truyện Kiều and Cung oán ngâm khúc and Chinh phụ ngâm, I got an áo dài. 

And I can’t help wondering what kind of person I would have become—how different I would have been—if I had stayed in Vietnam or moved to the US instead of Europe. 

Metamorphoses: “He dropped like an ox/ Slaughtered in sacrifice”

1/ I don’t know if classical literature is more violent—graphic—than modern literature, but Metamorphoses is full of violent images. 

“… And, in his madness hunting her, tracked down

His wife and snatched Learchus from her arms, 

His little laughing son with hands outstretched, 

And wildly smashed the baby’s head against 

A granite block…” 

(Book 4)

(translated by A. D. Melville) 

Jeez. That’s from the myth of Athamas and Ino.

The myth of Perseus, who kills a monster and rescues Andromeda from the rocks and has to fight a bunch of men who want Andromeda and the kingdom, is reminiscent of the killings in the Iliad or the Odyssey. Full of vivid, horrible details. 

“Even so the weapon found a mark and struck 

Rhoetus full on the forehead. Down he fell 

And, as the iron was dragged out of his skull, 

His heels drummed on the ground and his red blood

Spattered the banquet board…” 

(Book 5) 

More graphic: 

“… this time, as he bent

The spring crescent, Perseus seized a brand

That smoked upon the altar there, and struck 

The lad and smashed his face to shattered bones.” 

(ibid.) 

The quote in the headline comes from the same scene. 

However, Ovid is not Seneca. Ovid may depict extreme violence, like Homer and Sophocles do, but Seneca seems to have a perverse delight in gore. When Ovid tells the myth of Niobe, who mocks the gods and has to see all her 7 sons and 7 daughters killed, he describes the killings quickly—some of the sons die from a single arrow, the deaths of the sisters are more or less grouped together—one can guess that Seneca would expand and add more horrific details. For instance, when Seneca retells the myth of Oedipus (creating a play much inferior to Sophocles’s version), he adds a scene of a ritual sacrifice, with gory visions:  

“MANTO Father, what is this?

Instead of gently quivering as they should,

They make my whole hand shake; there is fresh blood

Proceeding from the veins. The heart is shrunken,

Withered, and hardly to be seen; the veins

Are livid; part of the lungs is missing,

The liver putrid, oozing with black gall.

And here – always an omen boding ill

For monarchy – two heads of swollen flesh

In equal masses rise, each mass cut off

And covered with a fine transparent membrane,

As if refusing to conceal its secret.

On the ill-omened side the flesh is thick

And firm, with seven veins, whose backward course

Is stopped by an obstruction in their way.

The natural order of the parts is changed,

The organs all awry and out of place.

On the right side there is no breathing lung

Alive with blood, no heart upon the left;

I find no folds of fat gently enclosing

The inner organs; womb and genitals

Are twisted and deformed. And what is this –

This hard protuberance in the belly? Monstrous!

A foetus in a virgin heifer’s womb,

And out of place – a swelling in the body

Where none should be. It moves its limbs and whimpers

Twitching convulsively its feeble frame.

The flesh is blackened with the livid gore.…

And now the grossly mutilated beasts

Are trying to move; a gaping trunk rears up

As if to attack the servers with its horns.…

The entrails seem to run out of my hands.

That sound you hear is not the bellowing

Of cattle, not the cry of frightened beasts;

It is the fire that roars upon the altars,

The hearth itself that quakes.” 

(translated by E. F. Watling) 

I’m giving you the whole speech so you can see how gross it is, but the sacrifice scene is longer. 

The main difference between Ovid and Seneca is vision: despite the violence, despite the rapes, despite the brutal acts, in Ovid’s Metamorphoses I find a lightness of touch and a kind of transcendence that I don’t see in Seneca’s plays. 

2/ However, Ovid’s version of the myth of Bacchus and Pentheus, because much shorter, is not as nightmarish and disturbing as The Bacchae by Euripides. I can’t claim to understand The Bacchae, having read it once, but it is a discomforting, haunting play and I can see why it’s said to be Euripides’s greatest play. 

3/ Now that I’m reading Ovid, I’m starting to think there’s something to the theory—is it Jonathan Bate’s?—that Shakespeare swaps the locations in The Winter’s Tale, erroneously giving Bohemia a coast, in order to reinforce the association of Perdita with Proserpina, who is taken by force from Sicily. 

“… Here Proserpine  

Was playing in a glade and picking flowers, 

Pansies and lilies, with a child’s delight, 

Filling her basket and her lap to gather

More than the other girls, when, in a trice, 

Dis saw her, loved her, carried her away…” 

(Book 5)

The scene of Perdita with the flowers evokes the image of Prosperina—she even directly names her. And her happy scene, as in Ovid, is interrupted by the violence of a man. 

The rape of Proserpina, painting by Nicolas Mignard. 

Now look at these lines in Metamorphoses: 

“Behold, the daughter I have sought so long 

Is found…” 

(ibid.) 

Do they not make you think of The Winter’s Tale? 

4/ Metamorphoses is a vast, colourful poem, but there are a few recurring themes: the lust of the male gods (especially Jove, the Roman equivalent of Zeus), the jealousy of Juno (Hera), the hubris of human beings, and the capriciousness of the gods. 

The myth of Arachne is one of my favourites in Ovid. 

PS: I’m currently in the US, on a work trip. 

Metamorphoses: “Of bodies changed to other forms I tell”

 1/ First, I’m going to note that I picked up and looked at 6 different translations of Metamorphoses: Mary M. Innes translates it into prose, which I do not want; the versions by David Raeburn and Stanley Lombardo are clear but prosaic and tedious; Allen Mandelbaum takes a more poetic approach, his translation sounds good but is apparently quite loose; the Arthur Golding translation sounds very good and would be something I’d like to read, as it apparently inspired my boy Shakespeare, but it’s not very faithful and too twisty for the first read of the poem; so I decided on A. D. Melville, who seemed to strike a better balance between beauty and fidelity. 

One thing I’ve noticed doing some research on translations is that there doesn’t seem to be any strong consensus on good translations of Ovid. When people talk about Homer, Robert Fagles has a huge following; Robert Fitzgerald, the one I read, is also popular, especially for the Odyssey; Richmond Lattimore is often recommended for the Iliad; Peter Green from recent years is often recommended by classicists for accuracy; Emily Wilson is controversial, etc. I don’t see that kind of consensus about Metamorphoses—who is popular? As far as I know, there’s not even much noise about Stephanie McCarter even though she, like Emily Wilson, adds the female/ feminist perspective and criticises the bias of male translators. 

I’d say though that in a standard London bookshop, I almost always spot multiple translations of the Iliad and the Odyssey (usually Fagles, Emily Wilson, Green, E. V. Rieu, sometimes Fitzgerald, Lattimore) but Metamorphoses is usually only available in the Raeburn translation, which I do not at all like—I had to go to the Waterstones at Torrington Place to consider multiple options. 

2/ The thing about reading classics, especially something as influential as Metamorphoses, is that you get to encounter old friends. Book 1 for example has the story of Io, desired by Jove (Jupiter) and turned into a cow—I have met her in the play Prometheus Bound.

Ovid has a lightness of touch that makes him very different from Virgil, but sometimes there’s a very moving passage, such as this one about Io: 

“She browsed on leaves of trees and bitter weeds, 

And for her bed, poor thing, lay on the ground, 

Not always grassy, and drank the muddy streams;

And when, to plead with Argus, she would try 

To stretch her arms, she had no arms to stretch. 

Would she complain, a moo came from her throat, 

A startling sound—her own voice frightened her. 

She reached her father’s river and the banks 

Where often she had played and, in the water, 

Mirrored she saw her muzzle and her horns, 

And fled in terror from the self she saw.” 

(Book 1) 

(translated by A. D. Melville) 

Book 3 for example has many figures I know: Semele, Bacchus, Tiresias, Pentheus from Homer and the Athenian plays; Cadmus, Narcissus, and Echo from popular culture. 

I picked up Metamorphoses expecting much of it to be about beautiful women being chased by gods and turned into trees or animals, but it’s a much vaster, richer work, containing over 250 myths, moving seamlessly from one story to another. Each myth has some kind of transformation (the myth of Callisto in Book 2 even has three different transformations). It’s not hard to see why so many writers and artists love Metamorphoses—in the case of Shakespeare, it clearly appeals to the Shakespeare of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest. I can’t help wondering though, if Shakespeare’s fascination with transformation—each play has some kind of disguise or acting or metamorphosis—is because of his experience as an actor, or due to inspiration from Metamorphoses. 

3/ At some point I’m going to read Jonathan Bate’s How the Classics Made Shakespeare, but right now I can see traces of Metamorphoses in Twelfth Night. 

“ORSINO […] How dost thou like this tune?

VIOLA It gives a very echo to the seat

Where love is throned.” 

(Act 2 scene 4) 

That is clearly a reference to Echo, who has unrequited love for Narcissus; and the figure of Narcissus can be seen in Orsino (and Olivia). 

“VIOLA Make me a willow cabin at your gate

And call upon my soul within the house,

Write loyal cantons of contemnèd love

And sing them loud even in the dead of night,

Hallow your name to the reverberate hills

And make the babbling gossip of the air

Cry out “Olivia!” O, you should not rest

Between the elements of air and earth

But you should pity me.” 

(Act 1 scene 5, Twelfth Night) 

This passage—one of the most beautiful passages in all of Shakespeare—seems to echo Ovid’s story of Echo. 

There are also multiple metamorphoses in Twelfth Night: Viola disguises herself as a man and names herself Cesario; Malvolio transforms himself, when he believes he’s the object of Olivia’s affection; Feste wears various disguises when he joins in the prank on Malvolio; Viola’s twin Sebastian appears and gets mistaken as Cesario, and in a sense becomes Cesario at the wedding. 

4/ I don’t need to mention that the myth of Pyramus and Thisbe becomes the play-within-a-play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and inspires Romeo and Juliet, which is well-known, but now that I’ve read it, I wonder if the death of Antony in Antony and Cleopatra also traces back to Ovid’s poem. 

“At Thisbe’s name he raised his dying eyes

And looked at her, and closed his eyes again.” 

(Book 4) 

Shakespeare expands the scene, but like Pyramus, Antony also kills himself because he thinks Cleopatra is dead, and realises before dying that she is still alive.

Painting of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus by Scarsellino. 

5/ One of my favourite stories in Metamorphoses is the myth of Hermaphroditus and Salmacis. Did you know that the word “hermaphrodite” came from Hermes + Aphrodite? I didn’t. I like the juxtaposition of the myth of the Sun and Leucothoe, and the myth of Salmacis and Hermaphroditus, and it’s such a strange, fascinating myth. If I’m not mistaken, it may have been Ovid’s invention, different from other myths of Hermaphroditus.

Dido, Queen of Carthage by Christopher Marlowe

1/ Now this sounds more like Marlowe, though it’s an early play. 

There are some interesting phrases: “map of weather-beaten woe”, “drenched limbs”, “unweaponed thoughts”, “furrowed wealth”, “quenchless fire”, “nimble winds”, “watery billows”, etc.  

2/ Why did I decide to read Dido, Queen of Carthage when it’s not a major play by Marlowe? It’s because the story of Aeneas and Dido is my favourite part—the best part—of the Aeneid. 

However, Marlowe’s version is quite different. First of all, he complicates the plot. In the Aeneid, Dido falls in love with Aeneas, despite herself, but Aeneas has to leave for Italy because of fate, because of his sense of duty. Marlowe has to complicate the plot because his play, though short, is much longer than Virgil’s chapter, so Dido has a suitor named Iarbas and he sees Aeneas as being in his way. This of course is borrowed from the plot about Aeneas, Lavinia, and Turnus from the second half of the Aeneid. 

More importantly, Marlowe changes the characters and his play is not quite moving. Venus for example interferes even more: she transforms Cupid into Ascanius, Aeneas’s son, so as to manipulate Dido into falling in love with Aeneas—basically all the scenes between Dido and “the boy” are mere deception and manipulation. The moving scene between Dido and Anna in Virgil becomes something rather crass in Marlowe: Anna encourages Dido’s feelings for Aeneas because she herself is in love with Dido’s suitor Iarbas. 

Even Marlowe’s Dido is different: 

“AENEAS Wherefore would Dido have Aeneas stay? 

DIDO To war against my bordering enemies. 

Aneas, think not Dido is in love; 

For if that any man could conquer me, 

I had been wedded ere Aeneas came. 

See where the pictures of my suitors hang; 

And are not these as fair as fair may be?

[Showing pictures.]” 

(Act 3 scene 1) 

Ridiculous.

“ANNA What if the citizens repine thereat? 

DIDO Those that dislike what Dido gives in charge, 

Command my guard to slay for their offence. 

Shall vulgar peasants storm at what I do? 

The ground is mine that gives them sustenance,

The air wherein they breathe, the water, fire, 

All that they have, their lands, their goods, their lives; 

And I, the goddess of all these, command

Aeneas ride as Carthaginian king.” 

(Act 4 scene 4) 

Dido comes across as extremely unpleasant. Hear how she talks to a servant: 

“DIDO O cursèd hag and false disassembling wretch

That slayest me with thy harsh and hellish tale! 

Thou for some pretty gift hast let him go, 

And I am thus deluded of my boy. 

Away with her to prison presently! 

[Enter ATTENDANTS.]

Traitoress too keen and cursed sorceress!” 

(Act 5 scene 1) 

Virgil’s Dido is nothing like this!

I’m not saying that a writer cannot make changes when adapting or retelling a literary work, but Marlowe’s play has none of the heartfelt passion and tenderness of the Aeneid—it doesn’t touch one’s heart—the ending doesn’t feel particularly tragic. 

The gap between Dido, Queen of Carthage and Edward II is startling. 

Edward II by Christopher Marlowe

 1/ The Greeks, once known, are seen everywhere. References to the ancient Greeks are scattered all over Marlowe’s play. 

 “QUEEN O miserable and distressed queen!

Would, when I left sweet France, and was embarked,

That charming Circe, walking on the waves,

Had changed my shape! or at the marriage day

The cup of Hymen had been full of poison!

Or with those arms, that twined about my neck,

I had been stifled, and not lived to see

The king my lord thus to abandon me.

Like frantic Juno, will I fill the earth

With ghastly murmur of my sighs and cries,

For never doted Jove on Ganymede

So much as he on cursèd Gaveston…” 

(Scene 4)

This is a moving scene. The play is about King Edward II’s obsessive relationship with his minion Gaveston and its impact on the realm—Marlowe begins the play with Gaveston and Edward, then writes about the resentment of the nobles, then lets us see that the one who suffers most is Queen Isabella—it is moving. 

Mortimer Senior also references the Greeks (and the Romans) when defending the King’s relationship with Gaveston: 

“MORTIMER SENIOR […] Thou seest by nature he is mild and calm,

And, seeing his mind so dotes on Gaveston,

Let him without controlment have his will.

The mightiest kings have had their minions:

Great Alexander loved Hephaestion,

The conquering Hercules for Hylas wept,

And for Patroclus stern Achilles drooped.

And not kings only, but the wisest men:

The Roman Tully loved Octavius,

Grave Socrates wild Alcibiades.

Then let his grace, whose youth is flexible,

And promiseth as much as we can wish,

Freely enjoy that vain lightheaded earl,

For riper years will wean him from such toys.” 

(ibid.) 

Even Edward compares himself and Gaveston to Hercules and Hylas in Scene 1. 

(But then a play about a gay relationship would mention the Greeks, wouldn’t it?) 

2/ Edward II is very different from Marlowe’s other plays. Firstly, it’s about English history. Secondly, whereas his other plays tend to have a dominating character—a Machiavelli or an overreacher—pushing everyone else to the background, Edward II is a much more balanced play and has at its centre a weak king (though in the second half, Mortimer threatens to upset the balance of the play and seems like a typical Marlovian figure). It’s also a more subtle play, with characters plotting and saying things they don’t mean and switching sides.

I can see the influence of Shakespeare’s Henry VI plays on Edward II, and in turn, the influence of Marlowe’s play on Shakespeare’s Richard II. 

“EDWARD Nay, then, lay violent hands upon your king:

Here, Mortimer, sit thou in Edward’s throne;

Warwick and Lancaster, wear you my crown.

Was ever king thus overruled as I?” 

(Scene 1) 

Later: 

“EDWARD My swelling heart for very anger breaks.

How oft have I been baited by these peers,

And dare not be revenged, for their power is great!

Yet, shall the crowning of these cockerels

Affright a lion? Edward, unfold thy paws,

And let their lives’-blood slake thy fury’s hunger.

If I be cruel and grow tyrannous,

Now let them thank themselves, and rue too late.” 

(Scene 6)

Edward II and Richard II both explore weak kings, favouritism, and political instability; they both raise questions about the role, power, and responsibility of the king, though I think Shakespeare goes further; Marlowe focuses more on the gay relationship between the king and Gaveston.   

About halfway through the play, Gaveston is killed; his position is then filled by Spencer, an opportunist and flatterer. 

The contrast between Gaveston and Spencer is interesting, because Marlowe lets us see that King Edward II and Gaveston love each other. The former may be an ineffectual king and the latter may be an obnoxious upstart and they both may be cruel to the Queen, but their love for each other appears to be genuine.  

“MORTIMER Why should you love him whom the world hates so?

EDWARD Because he loves me more than all the world.” 

(Scene 4) 

Marlowe does complicate things—what is the relationship between Gaveston and the king’s niece?—but he does give us Gaveston’s soliloquy at the start of the play, and in a few scenes, in Edward’s absence, Gaveston talks about him and not anyone else. It is Spencer who is like the flatterers in Richard II. 

3/ The scene in which Edward seeks refuge in a monastery is so moving. 

“EDWARD […] Stately and proud in riches and in train,

Whilom I was, powerful and full of pomp;

But what is he whom rule and empery

Have not in life or death made miserable?⁠

Come, Spenser, come, Baldock⁠, come, sit down by me;

Make trial now of that philosophy

That in our famous nurseries of arts

Thou sucked’st from Plato and from Aristotle.⁠

Father, this life contemplative is heaven.

O, that I might this life in quiet lead!...” 

(Scene 19)

In Shakespeare, there are many speeches about the burdens of being a king (King John, Henry IV…), or about the downfall of a king (Lear, Richard II…). What caught my attention was the word “whilom”—formerly, in the past—which I had never seen in Shakespeare, and possibly had never seen before. 

The abdication scene is even better, and again I can see Marlowe’s influence on Richard II. 

There are some very good lines: 

“EDWARD […] The griefs of private men are soon allayed;

But not of kings…”

(Scene 21)

This is followed by an image of “the forest deer” and “the imperial lion”—Edward refers to himself as a lion quite a few times, but he’s not much of a lion, is he? 

I like these lines from the same speech: 

“But what are kings, when regiment is gone,

But perfect shadows in a sunshine day?” 

This is also good: 

“EDWARD I know not; but of this am I assured,

That death ends all, and I can die but once.” 

(ibid.) 

4/ I note something interesting Marlowe does a few times throughout the play, though I don’t know what you call these pairs of lines—thesis and antithesis? 

“KENT For he’ll complain unto the see of Rome.

GAVESTONE Let him complain unto the see of hell.” 

(Scene 1) 

“EDWARD Lay hands on that traitor Mortimer!

MORTIMER SENIOR Lay hands on that traitor Gaveston!” 

(Scene 4) 

“QUEEN [to Gaveston] Villain, ’tis thou that robb’st me of my lord.

GAVESTON Madam, ’tis you that rob me of my lord.” 

(ibid.) 

“WARWICK Saint George for England, and the barons’ right!

EDWARD Saint George for England, and King Edward’s right!” 

(Scene 12) 

“GURNEY Your passions make your dolours to increase.

EDWARD This usage makes my misery increase.” 

(Scene 23) 

“EDWARD III My lord, he is my uncle, and shall live.

MORTIMER My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die.”

(Scene 24) 

“LIGHTBORNE What means your highness to mistrust me thus? 

EDWARD What means thou to dissemble with me thus?” 

(Scene 25) 

The best wordplay in Edward II, however, is when Mortimer decides to kill Edward and wants to cover his tracks:  

“MORTIMER […] This letter, written by a friend of ours,

Contains his death, yet bids then save his life.

Reads. ‘Edwardum occidere nolite timere, bonum est’,

‘Fear not to kill the king, ’tis good he die.’

But read it thus, and that’s another sense;

‘Edwardum occidere nolite, timere bonum est’,

‘Kill not the king, ’tis good to fear the worst.’

Unpointed as it is, thus shall it go…” 

(ibid.) 

According to a post I came across, the line comes from Holinshed—sent by Adam de Orleton, not Mortimer. 

5/ In 1970, the BBC broadcast a double feature done by Prospect Theatre Company: Edward II and Richard II with Ian McKellen playing Edward and Richard, Timothy West playing Mortimer and Henry Bolingbroke, Paul Hardwick playing the Earl of Warwick and John of Gaunt, and so on. 

Both are wonderful productions—the entire cast is perfect. Ian McKellen is great, as always (I saw Richard II back in November); Timothy West has a lot more to do as Mortimer; but I especially like Diane Fletcher as she helps me understand better the character of Queen Isabella and her changes throughout the play. 

The more I think about Edward II—such a great play—the more annoyed I get with the Marlovian theory, i.e. the conspiracy theory that Marlowe faked his death and was the real Shakespeare. It’s a distraction from a much more worthwhile pursuit of rereading, rewatching, analysing, getting immersed in Shakespeare’s plays; it’s also a distraction from the brilliance of Marlowe’s actual plays when we should be celebrating and promoting Edward II and Doctor Faustus. 

If you are in the UK and have a school/ university email address, both productions are available on the ERA website. Otherwise, they’re on Youtube, though the quality is a bit lower.