This short novel serves as a prolegomenon to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, an interpretation and distillation of three distinct historical documents covering the lives and events that lead up to the play’s first scene. Updike does not deal with the matter in his usual lapidary fashion, giving vital shape to the minutiae surrounding the characters. Instead there is a sparer prose that calls on archaic language and vocabulary to name the accountrements of the period. For instance, to speak of the bandolino or belvedere to which King Horwendil/Horvendile/Hamlet retires for his final nap perhaps accurately names the structure in which he is killed, but it does not spring to life with any sort of specificity, whether of impression or substance. It’s as if Updike had set aside his fine nibbed pen and were writing instead with a brush, the strokes necessarily larger and broader. The tactile world of the novel remains broadly painted, and the mental landscapes receive more attention. However, as the substance of the character’s thoughts are less grounded in the usually rich ephemera of specificity Updike brings to his contemporary novels, the longer passages spent in detailing the thoughts of the novel’s characters are often commonplace, albeit often leavened with allusions to specific tropes and motifs from the play.While the narrative that yokes these three sources of information is seamless, Updike makes clear which sources he’s using in each of the novel’s three parts by adhering to the source’s naming conventions. Thus, Hamlet’s father is King Horwendil in the late 12th century Historia Danica (part 1), King Horvendile in a free adaptation of that work from 1576 (part 2), and King Hamlet as rendered in Shakespeare’s play (part 3). Why each is given particular emphasis is not clear, and it may be simply a gimmick to set off the three distinct sections of the novel. The first part concerns Gerutha’s history and relation as princess to the present King of Denmark. The aging king makes it a political point to affiance his daughter to a man worthy to inherit the crown. Gerutha balks somewhat but is convinced; the two marry, and they are soon King and Queen of Denmark, proud parents of a son, Amleth (Hamlet). Even at this early stage Amleth is a source of concern, and there intimations of his willfulness, independence of mind, and a lack of affection for his mother. The years pass quickly and when Hamlet is 17, Horwendil’s brother (Feng/Fengon/Claudius) returns from his knight errantcy throughout southern Europe and north Africa. There is a spark between him and Gerutha, but both are able to check their emotions. His introduction to her to his love of falconry is an evocative sublimation of desire and passion, and he leaves again for another long period, leaving with her a new-tamed bird.While part one of the novel spans 17 years, the second part covers only a single year. Fengon has returned to Denmark, and he and Geruthe resume their intimacy of submerged and repressed emotions. After some agonies and veiled consultations with her old advisor Corambis (Polonius), she and Fengon become secret lovers. For a short three months, they are blissful, but Horvendile discovers their infidelity. After an audience with Horvendile (in which he describes banishment for Fengon, and death for both Corambis and Geruthe), Fengon and Corambis conspire and kill Horvendile. Hamlet, off-stage during this period, is passed over when it comes time to look for Horvendile’s successor, and it is Fengon who is looked to for leadership.In the final part of the novel, which covers an even shorter span, Gertrude is persuaded to leave her mourning after only a two months, so that she might best seal the authority of Fengon’s rule. Despite her love for Claudius, she feels and hears echoes of similar calls to duty when she was given as a 17-year-old to Horwendil. Gertude notices that Claudius’ manner is less light-hearted, more like the manner of King Hamlet. As well, she apprehends from Polonius something that suggests King Hamlet’s death was not natural. She stills these concerns and with Claudius turns her mind towards smoothing the way for Prince Hamlet to find contentment and a future in Denmark. She tries to gently guide Ophelia to better woo her son. The novel ends with Claudius bidding Hamlet to stay in Denmark, Hamlet’s apparent acquiescence, and his own satisfaction that all seems to have worked out well.In a one-page afterword, Updike says, “Putting aside the murder being covered up, Claudius seems a capable king, Gertrude a noble queen, Ophelia a treasure of sweetness, Polonius a tedious but not evil counselor, Laertes a generic young man. Hamlet pulls them all into death.” This particular passage, more than all that had gone before, made for me the most impression, as it gave a turn to Hamlet’s behavior in the play that I’d never contemplated before. Updike means to subvert’s Hamlet’s nobler, slow-to-act heroism, calling it into doubt as being the product of a vacillating, proud, willful, supercilious, and unloving son. This passage also suggests that the story of Hamlet, while only allusion throughout the novel of Gertrude and Claudius, is the one which readers should most heed.
214 pages. Donated 2010 May.Borrowing a phrase from Hamlet for the title of his 1999 nonfiction collection, John Updike may perhaps have been dropping hints about his fictional work in progress. He has, in any case, now delivered Gertrude and Claudius--and his variation on what is arguably the Bard's greatest hit sits very handsomely in the Shakespearean shadows. As its title suggests, this is a prelude to the actual play, focusing not on the sulky star but on his mother and fratricidal stepfather (think of it as a Danish, death-struck version of The Parent Trap). Updike's great achievement here is to turn our customary sympathies on their heads. This time around, Gertrude is a decent, long-suffering wife, whose consciousness happens to be raised to the boiling point by her sexy brother-in-law. And Claudius, too, seems half a victim of this fatal attraction, with a strong neo-Platonic accent to his lust: The amused play of her mouth and eyes, the casual music of her considerate voice, a glimpse of her bare feet and rosy morning languor were to him amorous nutrition enough: at this delicate stage the image of more would have revolted him.... What we love, he understood from the poetry of Provence, where his restless freelancing had more than once taken him, is less the gift bestowed, the moon-mottled nakedness and wet-socketed submission, than the Heavenly graciousness of bestowal. Subtract the poetry (and leave in the wet-socket business) and we're not too far from Rabbit Angstrom. As in the bulk of his fiction--and most conspicuously in the underrated In the Beauty of the Lilies--Updike sacrifices artistic firepower when he goes archaic on us. That explains why Gertrude and Claudius gets off to a wobbly start, with the author's medieval diction careening all over the page. But once his narrative gets up to speed, Updike dispenses one brilliant bit of perception after another. Note, for example, Ophelia's teeth, "given an almost infantile roundness by her low, palely pink gums, and tilted very slightly inward, so her smile imparted a glimmering impression of coyness, with even something light-heartedly wanton about it." Who else could make mere dentition such a window into the soul? Gertrude and Claudius also amounts to a running theological argument, in which men constantly impale themselves on metaphysical principle while the adulterous queen is willing "to accept the world at face value, as a miracle daily renewed." (That would explain Gertrude's snap diagnosis of her neurotic son: "Too much German philosophy.") A superlative satellite to Shakespeare's creation, Updike's novel is likely to retain a kind of subordinate rank, even within his own capacious body of work. Still, it's packed with enough post-Elizabethan insight about men and women, parents and children, to suggest that the play's not the thing--not always, anyway. --James Marcus
What do You think about Gertrude And Claudius (2001)?
3 1/2 starsThis Hamlet prequel is carefully and delicately crafted, and I loved Updike's portrayal of the characters. Since I'm in a Hamlet seminar, we've been playing around with the circumstances surrounding King Hamlet's death, and I'm fond of this version - that Claudius and Gertrude loved each other well before the murder. Updike made Claudius exactly as he should be - sexy and only as villainous as he needs to be. Gertrude was a bit too passive and lovable for my taste, as I've always thought of her as a beautiful powerful woman, yet I did like seeing her this way. I simply loved that Hamlet was a minor character, and that it was all told from Gertrude's point of view. I've really never liked Hamlet, and have always thought him whiny and self-serving - Laertes is my favorite character in the play. Oh, I almost forgot. Ophelia was perfect. Wispy and ethereal, with the ability to go insane quite easily. I also quite liked the subtle use of Hamlet quotes worked into the text. Brilliant.
—Faith Bradham
Quite a nice book! It does make me want to go [re]read Hamlet, with this new perspective in mind.Several of the Goodreads reviews were quite interesting.Updike does bring the 12c [?] characters to life. Largely showing them as creatures of their time and culture, yet also showing them to be human beings with longings and aspirations like our own.Who can say how plausible his rendering is of two royals in the 12th century?On the one hand, one can read texts 200, 300 years old and marvel at how similar their musings/observations are to one's own.On the other hand, we 'know' that culture so largely shapes how any of us feel about anything. I find it unlikely that a woman in 12c Denmark would have felt she had a right to time 'for herself'.There were moments in this book when I felt Updike was being ridiculous in attributing such 'modern' thoughts to one or another of the characters. But on the whole, I was able to 'suspend my disbelief' and be ready to take this as background for a re[reading] of the action in Hamlet.
—Rita
Entering Kornborg Castle in Denmark requires the visitor to not only approach the castle on foot, but to also cross two moats. It is after the first moat, the one with the swans, that Kornborg's purpose becomes manifest. It is quite clear that the purpose of the structure is not to be a castle but to be a fortress and to enforce the collection of sound duties for which it was built. The harsh fact of warfare greets the visitor with an absence. There was a beautiful fountain until the Swedes invaded and stole it (don't worry, plenty of things in Denmark were taken from the Swedes, so it all works out). Kornborg lacks the charm of a Renaissance palace such as Rosenberg Castle. It is stark. This is not to say the castle is not fascinating. Of particular interest to a visitor are the casements. Once a part of the castle that served as barracks, which constantly flooded, today the casements house pickled herring and Holger the Dane. Kornborg’s, and its town, claim to fame lie in their association with a famous work of literature, Hamlet, and the castle itself is better known as Helsingor Castle (Helsingor being the town).The town capitalizes heavily on its connection with one of the world's most famous plays. There is Hamlet's well, Hamlet's tree, and Ophelia's grave, which is in a park that seems way too close to a casino. Strangely, she is also the only the grave there. Despite these relics, the town does not seem to embody the play. It is too charming, and not at all melancholy. But Kornborg Castle is a different story entirely. The castle breathes power and melancholy. Perhaps this is due to the connection to a fictional depressed prince. Perhaps it is due to the unpleasant living conditions that the soldiers had to suffer though, wading though ankle deep water in their sleeping quarters. More likely, it is due to the fact that Queen Caroline was imprisoned here after her coup against her husband, Christian VII, whose sanity was not stable and whose lover was Katrine with the Boots. Queen Caroline lost power, saw her lover beheaded, was imprisoned and never saw her son or daughter again. Eventually, she was sent into exile. That's not only sad, it's tragic.Because of its starkness and mood, Kornborg suits the story of Hamlet perfectly. What better setting for a story of palace murder, incest, death, and sex?Apparently, there are many better settings because very few adaptations seem to make use of the castle. Brannagh's excellent movie version of the play would've been out of place at Kornborg. Brannagh's Hamlet is too much of a Renaissance prince. What about Gibson, you ask? That was Medieval. True, but it lacked the Sound, which has become a part of the castle itself. And Olivier's? There is not enough room for the funeral procession at Kornborg.John Updike, however, presents the story of Hamlet in such a way that it finally seems to take place in Kornborg Castle.The plot of Updike's novel is concerned about what happen prior to the start of the famous play. He gives the reader the back story of Gertrude, Claudius, and Hamlet Sr. as well as bit more information about Polonius and Ophelia.Updike uses the langue to capture the feeling and place. He melds Shakespeare with the original story. The book reads like the bastard child of Shakespeare and a scop. It is startling, but strangely enough it works.The character that shines the most is Gertrude. Updike draws from Shakespeare's presentation but deepens the character. The reader sees her drafted into a marriage that she does not want, of her peace with that marriage, of her sleeping. The reader sees her awakened as a person, finally living instead of just being the cipher she is though Hamlet's eyes.Claudius too is as close to redeemed as anyone can bring him. Updike paints him almost as a knight errant, whose feelings for Gertrude never seem in doubt. This matches the play, for Claudius loves Gertrude his afterword, Updike hints that he wrote the book in part to offer solutions to those puzzling questions of Hamlet, such as the age of Hamlet, the time of the story, as well as the cover up. Updike does this well and with a degree of believability. More importantly, he gets the attentive reader to think more deeply about the play, and challenges the more readily accepted and established view.de up until the end, where he decides he loves his life and power more (and then is killed). Additionally, Updike shows a man who is perhaps more like his brother than he realizes, and what power and the desire to keep it, can do.Hamlet is present, though in a shadowy, forceful and threatening way. Here, Hamlet becomes the rotten aspect of Denmark. The book, like the play it draws from, is a tragedy, for the reader knows the final fate of all those involved. It is this tragic, futile, melancholy feeling that matches the castle of Kornborg so well. It is wonderful to read the story of Hamlet set in the correct place and time.
—Chris
