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Oiez, oiez - or not
Jan. 22nd, 2006 11:37 amI had forgotten something very important about the Crusade cycle of chansons de geste, and it has direct relevance to modern writers, especially to writers of duologies and trilogies and other sequellish things. Also to writers who like their readers to be in the midst of action from moment one. It requires some explanation, so bear with me (also bear with the lack of recipes today - I am spending tonight in a cooking spree and thought it better not to have too much of a good thing - another classic Aussie recipe tomorrow, I promise).
There are various colours and tastes to chansons de geste. There are bunches of tales of Charlemagne and famous knights of his time, many closely linked (and sometimes overlapping) to the bunches about William of Orange (remind me to tell you about his retirement days when you are bored). Other chansons de geste include my favourite hate and blood to the tenth generation (the Mez epics) and the independent tale (eg Raoul de Cambrai). Most of these have the openings I discussed earlier, even if they are part 3 or part 12 of a cycle. This is because they were not written the way, say, Trudi Canavan's trilogies (hi, Trudi!) are written. Trudi will correct me if I am wrong, I hope, but I think she conceives a trilogy from the beginning as one work. Most of the chansons de geste are - as far as I know - written independently, to be read independently. So each needs its own introduction.
In modern fantasy some backstory or update tends to be given in the early parts of sequels, with the preference on an opening. Which makes good sense. I'd imagine it would be a foul thing to write, because you have to keep all the interest going plus attract new interest plus keep the feeling of genre.
Most chansons de geste don't do this, even if they apparently follow on one from the other. What they do is assume that we are all familiar with the famous people and that the backstory is common knowledge. The most backstory you are going to get (mostly, anyhow) is a line or two saying "And the battle had been waged for seven years" or "And he died and the king gave his son's inheritance to another family, promising redress when he came of age." You get a little scene-setting after the "Sit right down and hear a tale bit," but not a great deal.
And all this makes good sense. Each tale is basically independent, but its themes and stories weave into the other tales. And they use popular culture. Everyone knows who Charlemagne is. In case someone is dead stupid, the text is spattered will fillers explaining that he is 'the great king' - not many, and mainly to fill scansion and stuff, but the references link chanson de geste with chanson de geste and help with character identification and save the introduction from being burdened.
Now, the Crusade epics are totally different. They have some of the same stuff, but introductions are one of the ways where they diverge drastically.
I don't have the complete series of the verse Crusade cycle - in fact, I only have three volumes. What is interesting, though, is only the Jerusalem Continuations has any sort of regular introduction. It tells us "Lord, hear a song which really ought to be heard: I will tell you the life of the good king Godefroy". So we get the "sit right back" bit and the reason we ought to hear this tale. Five lines of joyous introduction, then we are plunged into the middle and have no idea where we are.
The other tales don't even have five lines, at least in the versions I am looking at. The Chanson de Jerusalem starts off with evil-doers doing evil inside Jerusalem. I wonder if the introduction or lack thereof depends on which manuscript they are in - if the first tale in a manuscript has the introduction and the rest just follow straight on.
Anyway, from a modern reader's point of view, it is very much something we can look at and say "Oh, starts with action - good gripping introduction."
It doesn't quite assume a modern introduction though. What it assumes is a different audience. One that either knows what happened in the Crusades, or had a predetermined interest in them. Not general knowledge - specific knowledge. It reminds me less of a fantasy triogy than a book written for RPG players about a RPG. Outsiders have to think a bit. It is less independent works than a series of episodes, where introductions are dumped because only those in the know are reading it.
This is interesting for two reasons. Firstly, there are still the remnants of a chanson de geste introduction. Not even the Crusade cycle can dump genre indicators entirely. Just enough of the traditional traits are retained so that the works can be claimed as chansons de geste, though. The writer/s really wanted that genre identification.
The second thing is that the implied audience is incredibly different. In most works, whether the introduction is prologue, four lines of exhortation, an outline of what is to come, or a misty remembrance of times past, it is essential. Yet these works plunge us straight into action. The reason the crusade cycle can get away with multiple works without introductions is because, like Robert Jordan, it has its audience tied down, wanting more.
When I say the audience has a predetermined interest, think of descendants of participants and their friends and their family and their circles. The Crusade epics were set in a much more recent past than any of the other epics. It did develop a wider audience (I love it that there was a Spanish translation at the end of the thirteenth century) but that is what happened to it, not where it was initially directed.
When we read a novel that starts in the middle of things, the writer is assuming we will be able to pick up instantly and orient ourselves quickly. We are that specialist audience. If we start in the middle of things as fantasy writers, we are assuming a more limited readership than if we orient the readers. Not that readers can't be oriented with an action scene, or a conversation - but it is something to remember, that the less effort we spend on that initial orientation, the more specialist our audience is likely to be. The best chansons de geste often use no more than four lines, but those four lines are crucial.
And I am finished with the introductions of chansons de geste. I was going to quote from the Oxford Roland, because there is a lovely ambiguity about its closing words, but I am too tired and will just finish here.
There are various colours and tastes to chansons de geste. There are bunches of tales of Charlemagne and famous knights of his time, many closely linked (and sometimes overlapping) to the bunches about William of Orange (remind me to tell you about his retirement days when you are bored). Other chansons de geste include my favourite hate and blood to the tenth generation (the Mez epics) and the independent tale (eg Raoul de Cambrai). Most of these have the openings I discussed earlier, even if they are part 3 or part 12 of a cycle. This is because they were not written the way, say, Trudi Canavan's trilogies (hi, Trudi!) are written. Trudi will correct me if I am wrong, I hope, but I think she conceives a trilogy from the beginning as one work. Most of the chansons de geste are - as far as I know - written independently, to be read independently. So each needs its own introduction.
In modern fantasy some backstory or update tends to be given in the early parts of sequels, with the preference on an opening. Which makes good sense. I'd imagine it would be a foul thing to write, because you have to keep all the interest going plus attract new interest plus keep the feeling of genre.
Most chansons de geste don't do this, even if they apparently follow on one from the other. What they do is assume that we are all familiar with the famous people and that the backstory is common knowledge. The most backstory you are going to get (mostly, anyhow) is a line or two saying "And the battle had been waged for seven years" or "And he died and the king gave his son's inheritance to another family, promising redress when he came of age." You get a little scene-setting after the "Sit right down and hear a tale bit," but not a great deal.
And all this makes good sense. Each tale is basically independent, but its themes and stories weave into the other tales. And they use popular culture. Everyone knows who Charlemagne is. In case someone is dead stupid, the text is spattered will fillers explaining that he is 'the great king' - not many, and mainly to fill scansion and stuff, but the references link chanson de geste with chanson de geste and help with character identification and save the introduction from being burdened.
Now, the Crusade epics are totally different. They have some of the same stuff, but introductions are one of the ways where they diverge drastically.
I don't have the complete series of the verse Crusade cycle - in fact, I only have three volumes. What is interesting, though, is only the Jerusalem Continuations has any sort of regular introduction. It tells us "Lord, hear a song which really ought to be heard: I will tell you the life of the good king Godefroy". So we get the "sit right back" bit and the reason we ought to hear this tale. Five lines of joyous introduction, then we are plunged into the middle and have no idea where we are.
The other tales don't even have five lines, at least in the versions I am looking at. The Chanson de Jerusalem starts off with evil-doers doing evil inside Jerusalem. I wonder if the introduction or lack thereof depends on which manuscript they are in - if the first tale in a manuscript has the introduction and the rest just follow straight on.
Anyway, from a modern reader's point of view, it is very much something we can look at and say "Oh, starts with action - good gripping introduction."
It doesn't quite assume a modern introduction though. What it assumes is a different audience. One that either knows what happened in the Crusades, or had a predetermined interest in them. Not general knowledge - specific knowledge. It reminds me less of a fantasy triogy than a book written for RPG players about a RPG. Outsiders have to think a bit. It is less independent works than a series of episodes, where introductions are dumped because only those in the know are reading it.
This is interesting for two reasons. Firstly, there are still the remnants of a chanson de geste introduction. Not even the Crusade cycle can dump genre indicators entirely. Just enough of the traditional traits are retained so that the works can be claimed as chansons de geste, though. The writer/s really wanted that genre identification.
The second thing is that the implied audience is incredibly different. In most works, whether the introduction is prologue, four lines of exhortation, an outline of what is to come, or a misty remembrance of times past, it is essential. Yet these works plunge us straight into action. The reason the crusade cycle can get away with multiple works without introductions is because, like Robert Jordan, it has its audience tied down, wanting more.
When I say the audience has a predetermined interest, think of descendants of participants and their friends and their family and their circles. The Crusade epics were set in a much more recent past than any of the other epics. It did develop a wider audience (I love it that there was a Spanish translation at the end of the thirteenth century) but that is what happened to it, not where it was initially directed.
When we read a novel that starts in the middle of things, the writer is assuming we will be able to pick up instantly and orient ourselves quickly. We are that specialist audience. If we start in the middle of things as fantasy writers, we are assuming a more limited readership than if we orient the readers. Not that readers can't be oriented with an action scene, or a conversation - but it is something to remember, that the less effort we spend on that initial orientation, the more specialist our audience is likely to be. The best chansons de geste often use no more than four lines, but those four lines are crucial.
And I am finished with the introductions of chansons de geste. I was going to quote from the Oxford Roland, because there is a lovely ambiguity about its closing words, but I am too tired and will just finish here.