I recently completed a commission with Exeter City of Literature, where I adapted a medieval poem from The Exeter Book. Here's some thoughts I had along the way...
It's a story you might have heard before. In any case, let's keep it brief. A bunch of sailors come across an island. The island turns out to be a big sneaky whale. It dives to the bottom of the sea, and kills them. If I had to summarise it in a sentence I'd probably say:
Cetacean, disguised as island, kills guillable sailors
It's basically a metaphor for succumbing to temptation; a warning that the Devil is cunning and can appear in many guises. Even a big realistic-looking bit of land.
If the idea of an island sucking you in with its promise and allure and then pulling you down into the very depths of depravity sounds in any way familiar, then you may have been to Ibiza. Or you may have just heard the story of Fastitocalon, or indeed one of his many cousins and counterparts, bobbing up as they do in different cultures and countries all across the world.
The version I've been looking at is the one in the Exeter Book. It's also know as The Miclan Hwale, The Great Whale or simply 'The Whale.' It's a short-ish poem, most likely written by a monk in the 10th Century; an adaption of an earlier poem that appears in the Physiologus*
*The Physiologus (from the Greek, later translated into Latin) is said to be one of the most widely read texts in Medieval England, outsold only by The Bible, Fifty Shades of Plague and Jamie Oliver (who has been around forever.) It's basically a bumper book of real animals with magical characteristics. As well as an Evil Whale, it features a Jealous Slug, a Greedy Amoebae and a Slutty Womble.
There's some really cool stuff in the original version. The twisted Old Testament morality I could probably do without, but it's a really lyrical and evocative piece, filled with rich imagery. The early English includes a load of words I really want to see make a comeback... words like ferðgrim (spirit-grim) and unlonde (literally, not-land) to describe the Whale... or deaðsele (death-hall) to describe the sailors' final resting place.
Anyway, here's my first attempt at adapting the first half of The Whale. This is a form of poem that gets bigger in the middle before getting smaller again... there isn't a name for that because I'm pretty sure I just invented it. Let's call it an A-Chris-tic
THE WHALE
splash
splishy
sploshy
listen up
to this tale
'bout a whale
how it sat there
plotting, scheming
waiting for some
silly seamen
half whale, half demon
who the sailors named
F A S T I T O C A LO N
but for brevity
let's call him Alan
he sits completely still
with skin that's grey and rough
looking like an island
(not Crete, but close enough)
a giant sandy hill
he sits and waits until
...
our sailors, water-weary
who should know better really
are hard, hardy and cheery
big, boisterous and beardy
and though their eyes are bleary
they see a shape quite clearly
a sight that they seek dearly
In that moment they were lubbers
when their eyes locked on that blubber
Right away they made a bee-line
well, to them it's more a sea-line
sailing straight into the un-lands!
god, I really hope that pun lands
hoist the ropes men and set a course
towards those not-so-sandy shores
and so, Alan-bound and unaware
they set of to seek some shelter there
with surging oars and soaring hopes
...
How would they know, dancing there on skin
kissing ground, hearing no sound within
all they'd found was their own reckoning?
...
it had beckoned them when they were tired
simmering with child-like desires
the embrace of earth, the kiss of fire
it waited til they were asleep
eighty men, not a single peep
it turned its eye toward the deep
its plunder still slumbering
and plummeted suddenly, down
toward the darkest ocean, down
with one great sweeping motion, down
to the death-hall where all were drowned
they lay there still, in coral
fishes nibble at their toes
But where the fuck's our moral?
you're wondering, I suppose
well, here's mine: Just be careful
life sometimes throws us off-track
and don't light fires on whales' backs
if you follow that rule
you'll probably be fine
don't waste your time clutching
for what looks like shelter
only to find that it's a
large aquatic mammal
so ends the tale of
F A S T I T O C A L O N
the ocean ghost
the big wily whale
AKA Alan
how he sat there
plotting, scheming
waiting for some
silly seamen
so it goes
my sad tale
'bout a whale
splishy
sploshy
splash
I found the process of adaptation a bit tricky. No disrespect to original authors, but for all it's great imagery, the story of The Whale is a bit bland... It doesn't really have any other characters and apart from one plot twist (which we know from the start, anyway) it doesn't go anywhere. So trying to craft it into something a modern audience might enjoy is a challenge. I also had to think about what the new moral of the story would be, and what my Whale could represent
For my final commission piece I moved away from the story a little and wrote something which is very much inspired by The Whale, with a modern audience in mind. It's a story about loneliness, friendship and isolation, for both little people and grown-ups. It's got some cute accompanying music and stop-motion animation too. You can watch it HERE.
If you want to find out more about The Whale you can click HERE to read this very excellent translation by Dr. Aaron Hostetter or HERE to hear the poem in it's original medieval English.
Who knows? Maybe you'll be inspired to write your own adaptation. Or maybe you'll just have a sudden urge to rewatch Free Willy
And finally... Here's another silly thing I wrote, complete with stock footage of IKEA. Enjoy! And remember, if it looks a bit fishy it's probably not land.
IKEA
FIN