I honestly don't know what to make of this. Somehow everything I understood in Chrétien, refracted through Wolfram, became confusing: why does Parzival disappear for almost the entire narrative? What's Gawain's point? Why the proliferation and names? What accounts for this paratactic aesthetic? I know it'd be fun to teach the authorial intrusions, and I'm sure the German is itself unbearably dense, probably the sort of thing that'd reward a life's attention. But lord knows I'll never put this on a syllabus: it's just too smart for me. ( )

I'm glad I read this book for several reasons. First, I had wanted to read it since learning that it had influenced the wonderful novel Matterhorn by Karl Marlantes which I read earlier this year. Second, I had the advantage of reading it as part of a group read, and I benefited from the comments, insights, and encouragement of my fellow readers. And finally, I had recently finished Chrétien de Troyes's version in Arthurian Romances and was interested in comparing them.

And there's the rub. I much preferred Chrétien's version, even though it was unfinished, possibly because I really loved all of his tales. Chrétien is a considerably livelier writer, and has deeper psychological insight -- maybe he just seems more modern. Wolfram's writing is, dare I say it, Germanic -- heavy, convoluted, and occasionally confusing (the book's introduction and translator both address the difficulty of Wolfram's style). But even more than that, which I got used to, he is obsessed with the names and provenance of dozens and dozens and dozens of characters. Even with a list of people and places that runs to 16 pages in the edition I read (as well as a somewhat unreadable family tree), it was impossible to keep track of who everyone was or where they came from. I wonder whether all this information was meaningful to medieval readers or whether it was just something that Wolfram loved. And, as in Chrétien, the jousts can come to seem endless and interchangeable.

There were things I liked about this book. Wolfram has a sly habit of injecting himself into the story, mostly in a deprecating way, but it was fun when he did. His writing, occasionally, is poetic, and thanks are due to the translator (in my edition, Cyril Edwards) for this because I've seen corresponding sections from other translators and they are different. For example, at the very beginning, Edwards's translation rhymes "There is both scorning and adorning" and uses alliteration in "The flying image is far too fleet for fools." I again enjoyed seeing the relative personal and sexual freedom of upper class medieval women. And finally, I was glad to have the tale finished, and to understand this early version of the grail legend.

My edition also include excerpts from Titurel; that is, my edition is Parzival and Titure. I confess I skimmed through this, essentially a "prequel" to Parzival, in that it deals with the childhood of his mother and some of her relatives.