Reviews for Sweeney astray

The average rating for Sweeney astray based on 2 reviews is 4.5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2020-10-21 00:00:00 Drexel Swartwood When I read Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf I already knew the story and had read other versions previously. This was not the case with his translation of Sweeney Astray; I had heard of 'Mad Sweeney' but that was as far as it went. This being said, I thoroughly enjoyed this chronicle and the verse is wonderful. In fact, my only 'criticism' of the book, if you can even call it that, is that it wasn't all in verse, as the prose sections didn't flow as well as the sections in verse.

Review # 2 was written on 2019-02-09 00:00:00 Eric Lamoe Sweeney Astray is a translation by Seamus Heaney of a medieval Irish work Buile Suibhne that has all the hallmarks of Heaney's poetics. A long poem about Sweeney, King of the Ulsters who is cursed by the powerful cleric, Ronan, after he is wronged and almost killed by the king. Consumed by fear thanks to the curse: His brain convulsed, his mind split open. Vertigo, hysteria, lurchings and launchings came over him, he staggered and flapped desperately, he was revolted by the thought of known places and dreamed strange migrations. … The 'strange migrations' come to pass, as Sweeney travels naked through the land, afraid of capture and surviving on watercress. Mixing brief snippets of narrative that propel the story forward, along with longer pieces of poetry, mostly compositions by Sweeney in lamentation of one thing or another, his unusual adventure of flight progresses: To-night the snow is cold I was at the end of my tether but hunger and bother are endless. Look at me, broken and down-at-heel, Sweeny from Rasharkin. Look at me now always shifting, making fresh pads, and always at night. At times I am afraid. In the grip of dread I would launch and sail beyond the known seas. I am the madman of Glen Bolcain, wind-scourged, stripped like a winter tree clad in black frost and frozen snow. … Eventually, Sweeney runs into his wife, who has now taken a place with one of two rightful successors and Sweeney recalls: "Do you remember, lady, the great love we shared when we were together? Life is still a pleasure to you but not to me." And a humorous and beautiful exchange takes place between them where the dialogue is in poetic format. After their exchange, Sweeney is chased by Lynchseachan who eventually convinces him to return to his home at Dal-Arie, until Sweeney realizes he is being made a fool of and escapes. Suffice to say, he eventually runs into a fellow madman who asks Muirghil to give Sweeney milk each night, but due to a row between Muirghil and another woman, the other woman convinces Muirghil's husband that Muirghil is with another man (Sweeney). The jealousy plays out to a tragic consequence for Sweeney: Of all innocent lairs I made the length and breadth of Ireland I remember an open bed above the lough in Mourne. Of all innocent lairs I made the length and breadth of Ireland I remember bedding down Above the wood in Glen Bolcain. To you, Christ, I give thanks for your Body in communion. Whatever evil I have done in this world, I repent. What I particularly enjoyed is the conversion I experienced from being appalled by Sweeney's irrational and unjustified actions at the start towards the Cleric, to being sympathetic to this madman's curse and plight at all that he had lost. I suppose the moral is to act justly or suffer the consequence. Yet, by stripping him of everything worldly, tangible and intangible, did he then not become closer to god than the Cleric? In his suffering and transformation from lamentations to, eventually, some praises, did he not become humble and pious?