Grendel Language and Communication Quotes

From the beginning of his story, we can see that Grendel is already pretty sick of language. Maybe it's the effect of extreme isolation—he's always narrating the story of his life to himself (and to us) and scripting scenes acted out by others. Language here is part of the way Grendel sees and creates the world. He has a solipsistic view of reality: nothing exists outside himself unless he perceives it (or so he thinks). Speaking, then, is a way of using his senses and interacting with a world that otherwise wants nothing to do with him.

The same language that helps Grendel create the world around him also suffocates him. We get the sense of isolation here, too—if Grendel's the only one around to chatter and create a version of reality, that's got to get old after a while. He's also cut off from the world around him because he can't really communicate with the "brute animals," and the humans mostly don't understand a word he's saying. The confusion and anger he feels drag him lower and lower.

Because Mama Grendel can't speak in a recognizable language, Grendel doesn't feel as close to her as he might if she could speak. He despises her idiocy, but worst of all, he can never have the mother-son chat that might give him a clue to their mysterious past.

The Shaper has the unique ability to create and entertain, but there's more at stake here than a few coins. He's creating a vision of history and how everyone fits into it. What he says goes: his stories—his versions of reality—will move into the future, long after his present audience is dust.

Gardner was probably thinking of another spurned and isolated creature when he penned this scene: Shakespeare's Caliban. There's this moment in the Tempest when Cal whines to Miranda: "You taught me language, and my profit on't / Is I know how to curse" (I.ii.368-69). It's totally ironic that Grendel, like Caliban, really only picks up one thing from human beings: bad words.

Grendel mocks Unferth for having heroic pretensions, knowing that he really is a murderous coward on the inside. He's also making fun of the "heroic code": all those requirements that humans invent for themselves to judge whether or not they or someone else is being courageous. The irony here is that Unferth certainly can talk the talk, but his actions as a brother-killer say something entirely different.

It might be annoying to Grendel that Mama can't speak, but for her, it's downright torture. As time wears on, she truly has something to say to her son—she's got to warn him about Beowulf. Interestingly enough, although she can't speak and she seems to be lacking in intellect, she has a finely tuned intuitive sense. She not only picks up the "bad vibes" rippling through the earth like Grendel—she can interpret them. Too bad she can't actually communicate with her son.

Gardner plays on the homophones "allusion" and "illusion" here. Yes, the phrase "back there in time" alludes to something that happened in the past, but the sense that those people and incidents still live somewhere is false. The past is gone—unless we recreate it with words.

A bright spot in mother-son communication: Mama reaches out with "language," and Grendel grasps at meaning. What is actually going on here? Does she really say words that he can recognize? It seems more likely that something more intuitive is happening here. Isn't the payoff a little... slim? All those years without speaking, and all Grendel gets is a stinking fish? If you consider that the swimming champ of Geatland is approaching, you might value Mama Grendel's conversation a bit more. What does it mean that the character without language is the one who best seems to understand the reality of the situation?

In the standoff between Grendel and Beowulf, words may be the deciding factor. Consider that these two contenders are pretty evenly matched, physically speaking. Now it's a psychological game. Beowulf happens to come out on top of this one—he psychs Grendel out in a big way. He's also really good at imposing his will on Grendel (notice that even the sound of his words is tormenting him here).

Beowulf challenges Grendel's theories about creating the world through his own perceptions. Maybe Grendel could believe that before, when he was the predator—it's a lot easier to call the shots when you're the one smashing heads and destroying things. But now, Beowulf is making him understand that walls really are objectively hard. Giving Grendel a music assignment (and making him do it) means that Beowulf now gets to impose his version of reality on Grendel. The biggest reality check of all? Monsters lose.