Grendel Good and Evil Quotes

You know your behavior is mighty suspect if you can revolt a human-eating monster. Grendel makes a smart observation really early on in this novel: humans are scary. And they're scary precisely because they have the ability to think and plan, and yet they use that ability to maim, kill, and waste resources. Now that, as Grendel notes, is an exclusively human evil: no brute animal does these things for mere pleasure.

Grendel has a complex relationship with his evil impulses. Though he can clearly lift his mind to more hopeful and beautiful things, he's constantly reminded of how he can never fully possess or participate in them. And that makes him bitter. Grendel may feel relief or even pleasure, as humans do, from the harper's song, but it's always temporary. He's been to the dragon, and he knows how it all ends.

There are several moments in the novel when Grendel actually has some verifiably wicked thoughts: how he'd like to knock the Shaper's head in for singing his beautiful songs, or split Wealtheow in two so that he can stop fantasizing about her. But interestingly, he almost always changes his mind and stalks away.

Sure, he eats his fair share of old ladies and disobedient children, but Gardner chooses to keep those deeds on the margin. In this case, however, we get to see an evil plan that actually comes to life—and it's scary in its simplicity. Grendel means to taunt Unferth, the cursed thane who's looking to revamp his reputation after killing his own brothers. Grendel wants to humiliate Unferth so that he, too, will slide into despair and feel the same bitterness that he feels as an outcast.

Okay, so it's pretty funny when he pelts Unferth with a pile of apples. But that is bullying, straight up. And Unferth never really recovers, even by the end of the story.

Love—maternal or otherwise—is way out of Grendel's comfort zone. He can recognize it in others, as he does here with his own mum and Wealtheow, but it doesn't lift him up or help him to show love to others. It makes him even more miserable. He classifies love as mindless, just like the hateful behavior of the brute beasts that annoy him so much.

Grendel also realizes something very '80s: love hurts. There is no woman in the story (for it's only the women who show capacity for love here) who isn't brought to her knees by the ties that bind.

That, as Celine Dion tells us, is the power of love. It's something that both humans and monsters in the story don't understand well—which is one reason Wealtheow wields such power when she shows it in the meadhall. How fitting that it should be this character who shows everyone how to work diplomatically rather than through chest-beating and boasts; remember, she's the one who gets traded to Hrothgar to prevent a war. The difficulty comes when we realize how very fragile Wealtheow's web of peace really is. As Grendel observes, anything can happen to end the dream—and it usually does.

Hrothulf's "adviser" Red Horse uses some big words for a guy who never washes. In this case, it's pretty clear that the old anarchist has been reading Machiavelli in his spare time, since he's giving the young man a primer on how to seize power and look good while doing it. The best way? Show the people that you're doing them a favor when you commit illegal and immoral acts to achieve what you want. Have we seen this in action before? Hmmm...

Grendel tries to play a trick on Ork, one of Hrothgar's high priests, and this is what he gets—more philosophy. At first, Grendel can laugh at the old ranter. But suddenly, Ork's theories confirm Grendel's own experiences.

In this discourse on evil, we can recognize the problem Grendel has after leaving the dragon's lair: he can't believe that he is just a blip on the cosmic radar and that his life is meaningless. This, Ork says, is the ultimate problem of existence. Beauty can't be enjoyed without contemplating ugliness or annihilation, for instance. And here's the real kicker: "alternatives exclude." That means that there can't be beauty and ugliness, or good and evil forever: one half of each pair will eventually exclude the other half.

Grendel torments himself by thinking of the deadness of the past—how all things good (and evil) that have happened in his life are now completely annihilated by the passage of time. The Shaper really is dead at this point, and Grendel has an interesting way of expressing his grief at the loss of his beautiful songs. If only I had taken the first opportunity to crush his skull, Grendel thinks, I wouldn't have had to put myself through all of that. As always, his response to beauty is pretty complicated. Yours would be, too, if beauty reminded you of the ugliness of your own life.

Grendel has this thing for comparing (and contrasting) human beings with animals. Most of the time, it's tongue-in-cheek: humans are often worse than or scarier than the most powerful animals because they often act against the "natural code."

For instance, humans kill when they aren't hungry and don't intend to eat. As Grendel watches Beowulf and his men disembark from their ship, another frightening dimension is added to his impression of humans: they're like machines—soulless, wolf-like machines. You can't get much more evil than the walking dead. But remember this: these are supposed to be the heroes.

The lines between good and evil may be blurred in this novel, but even here there are some lines that should never be crossed. Ask Unferth. It just isn't cool to kill your own kin. On the other hand, Beowulf may be pushing the envelope of political correctness. As a visitor in Hrothgar's hall, is it really up to him to point out the faults of Hrothgar's best man? He may not win any points with Miss Manners, but Beowulf surely can call the situation as he sees it.