INTRODUCTION
I invite you to sit down with your favorite beverage and enjoy a different type of post. Instead of a review of a YA or MG book, today my guest blogger, Anthony Marchetta, tackles a tough topic: How to adapt a classic so that it is enjoyed 500 years later.
William Caxton published Sir Thomas Malory’s masterpiece, Le Morte d’Arthur, in 1485, at the tail end of the Middle Ages. It’s a massive, sprawling work, chronicling the rise, golden age, and fall of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Hidden in the middle of this is Book VII, The Tale of Sir Gareth of Orkney, in some ways THE quintessential story of a knight in Camelot’s golden age. I focused on this story when I chose the subject for my novel, Son of Orkney.
How did I adapt a classic work like this? I was not interested in subversion. My book would be a respectful alternate take on alternative to Malory’s original, not a deconstruction of the ideals of chivalry or the Arthurian worldview. In other words, chivalry is real, honor matters, and the Christian morality at the heart of the story would be firmly kept in place.
Here’s a quick summary of Book VII. A young man shows up at Arthur’s Court on Pentecost along with his servant dwarf. He asks the court for food and drink for a year, and this is granted; but refuses to say his name. Sir Kay, the castle steward, doesn’t trust him and gives him the mocking nickname Beaumains, or Fair Hands. Nevertheless, the young man serves with honor for a year as a scullion, or kitchen boy.
It is next Pentecost. A young woman named Lynette asks for help to rescue her sister, who is being besieged by the evil Red Knight of the Launds. Beaumains volunteers for the quest, it is granted to him, and he is knighted by Lancelot. Lynette is insulted that her champion is a scullion and tries to ride off, only to be followed by Beaumains. Over the course of the journey to the Red Knight, Beaumains slowly wins Lynette’s respect, defeats the Red Knight, and falls in love with Lyonesse, Lynette’s sister. He goes on adventures, and eventually his real name, Sir Gareth, is made public. He marries Lyonesse, and all ends happily.
What can a modern novelist do with this?
The bones of the story are terrific. There is a clear quest structure and a clear ending. There are fights, exciting reveals, a dramatic opening–What more could a novelist want? Probably, some answers.
Malory leaves open several intriguing questions. Why does Gareth hide his name? With his brother Gawaine in court, it is certainly plausible that Gareth wants to prove himself away from his brother’s influence. But why does he continue to hide his name? I decided to make the theme of identity central to my version of the story. Malory’s point is that even with his name hidden, Gareth’s actions will reveal him as a man of true chivalry and nobility. Why is not as important as what is accomplished by Gareth’s decision.
The goal in my adaptation, Son of Orkney, ultimately became to provide a key ingredient that Mallory omitted: the interiority of the characters. Malory expects us to judge the characters almost exclusively through their actions.
The modern novelist – and the modern reader – are more interested in getting into the heads of the protagonists. At first, Gareth hides his name because he wants to see if he can be successful in Camelot. Gareth admired Camelot and wanted to reflect the ideals of the Round Table, rather than the violent world of his birth—the Orkney Islands.
That was the clue to my story’s plot. Gareth disguises himself to see if he can succeed as a knight in Camelot. Soon this turns into something more meaningful. Beaumains becomes a second identity: the noble Camelot knight separates himself from who he’d been—the violent son of Orkney.
In the original story, Gareth has a dwarf servant. What if instead of arriving with his companion, he meets someone in Camelot? And maybe not a literal dwarf, but someone of low standing–like Arthur’s court jester, Dagonet. In my version, Dagonet became Gareth’s squire and closest friend.
In Malory’s original, after Gareth is victorious in battle and in love, he is tempted to sin with Lynette’s sister. Lynette uses a magic spell to summon a knight to stop the tryst. Gareth might be able to win battles, but he has not conquered himself. How to convey this dilemma in my narrative?
Maybe it’s not magic. In my retelling, Lynette asks Dagonet, Gareth’s closest friend, to stop the tryst – and Gareth lashes out. Overcome by rage, he pins Dagonet to the wall by the throat and nearly kills him. Since he has won his quest, he thinks he has conquered his violent nature, but his lust and anger are not gone. Submitting to someone else’s control is enough to bring his worst traits to the surface.
Malory did not write a narrative in the modern sense. The Tale of Sir Gareth of Orkney can be reworked without too much trouble into a more modern plot structure, but it needs reworking. Malory is relaying a legend. He is simply telling us what Gareth of Orkney did. Malory didn’t know or care about the five-act structure. Gareth went on adventures, and he retells them.
Late in the original adventure, Gareth takes a journey to the so-called Dolorous Tower, where an evil knight slays knights and has captured thirty widows. In the original tale, Gareth kills the knights in a single line and moves on.
But from my perspective, there is an opportunity to connect it to the larger Arthurian world. Early in Le Morte,Malory tells the reader about a “dolorous stroke” that created a Wasteland. I connected that to the Dolorous Tower, and made the knight a denizen of the Wasteland. I decided to turn him into the embodiment of despair and cruelty, the final challenge Gareth needs to overcome to achieve his goals, instead of simply a one-off adventure. The key here is that none of this is foreign to Malory. I made connections he didn’t.
When making an adaptation, you need to find your angle. What are you adding that isn’t in the original story? I thought a modern update could explore interesting concepts Malory touched on, as well as explore the psychology of the characters, something that Malory only hints at.
I love the Arthurian world. It is a world of great violence but also great heroism, great sinners and great saints. but what captivates me the most is how unashamed it is of being great. Everything matters in Malory. Christianity is treated as something that places real and serious obligations on men, and if you don’t live up to those obligations there are consequences. Camelot ultimately falls, but only after reaching heights of glory we dare not strive for today.
Adapting a 500-year-old classic is not for the faint of heart. You open yourself up to the most terrifying question of all: What’s the point? If you ever desire to adapt or reinterpret a classic yourself, it is worth considering this question as early in your project as possible and keeping it in mind at every stage of the writing process.
GIVEAWAY!
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Son of Orkney is available on Amazon now.
Anthony Marchetta is a writer for the horror anthology podcast Pinkerton’s Ghosts and the author of the Arthurian novels Son of Orkney and the forthcoming After Camelot: Tales of Redemption in a Fallen Realm. His work can also be found in the Sci Phi Journal, Variety Pack Fiction, and Silence and Starsong Magazine. You can follow him at themechanicaldragon.substack.com
This was such an interesting read! Thank you!
Thank you, Bobbi! I’m glad you enjoyed it. Carol and Anthony