Happy Yuletide to me!
Dec. 25th, 2015 12:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mme_hardyI got two absolutely spectacular Yuletide presents. Both of them are based on the poem "The Highwayman", and they're completely different takes and transformations. I love both of them like rising bread.
The Bootlegger is a retake on the story set during Prohibition and written in verse: not just verse, but the meter and rhyme scheme of the original. The plot's been switched around to make Bess, the preacher's daughter, much more of an active force in the plot than Bess, the landlord's daughter, ever was. It's a different tragedy, and it's native to the new time period.
Though Hell Should Bar The Way is much, much bleaker. It's from the point of view of Tim, the ostler, but it's much weirder -- in the best sense of the word -- than a simple retelling. The reworking reminds me of the classic ghost stories of the late 19th century. The narrator's voice is amazing, as is the slow growth of dread.
The Bootlegger is a retake on the story set during Prohibition and written in verse: not just verse, but the meter and rhyme scheme of the original. The plot's been switched around to make Bess, the preacher's daughter, much more of an active force in the plot than Bess, the landlord's daughter, ever was. It's a different tragedy, and it's native to the new time period.
He braked as he neared the business, brought his car to the side of the road.
He leapt to the back of the breezer, and then brought out his load.
He whistled his way through the storefront, and made his way down to the bar,
Where the preacher’s bob-haired daughter,
Bess, the preacher’s daughter,
Daubed her slender wrists with the scent of Shalimar.
*Damn*.He leapt to the back of the breezer, and then brought out his load.
He whistled his way through the storefront, and made his way down to the bar,
Where the preacher’s bob-haired daughter,
Bess, the preacher’s daughter,
Daubed her slender wrists with the scent of Shalimar.
Though Hell Should Bar The Way is much, much bleaker. It's from the point of view of Tim, the ostler, but it's much weirder -- in the best sense of the word -- than a simple retelling. The reworking reminds me of the classic ghost stories of the late 19th century. The narrator's voice is amazing, as is the slow growth of dread.
They’ve gone and made me into the villain of the tale. Depend on it, years from now, all they will remember when they think on me (if they think on me) is Tim, the half-mad ostler, standing in the way of true love. They’ll not remember that less than five years ago they knew me as Timothy, finest judge of horseflesh in three shires. They’ll not remember that less than five years ago I sat beside them in the taverns, sharing stories of beautiful women and the unlucky bastards they ensnared.
She did this to me, mind. Bess the landlord’s daughter, and that blasted love-knot in her black hair.
What I love about both my stories is that they're truly transformative: the authors took one great thing and made two very different great things from it. Each is a new story, referring to the old but not a mere translation, and with great craftsmanship. I'm very lucky this year.She did this to me, mind. Bess the landlord’s daughter, and that blasted love-knot in her black hair.
