The Romance of Tristan should be appreciated as a work of developing or ancient literature. Tristan sets numerous romantic (actually in the contemporary sense of the word) archetypes that we use now, especially in lieu of chivalry and literature that reminisces on the medieval period. Similar to the conundrum I have thus faced with other Arthurian texts, it is hard to "rate" Tristan given the fact that it resembles palatable writing of its time, and significantly sets the standard for other texts to follow, despite how "enjoyable" it is to read.

While the Romance of Tristan is better written than some of its other Arthurian contemporaries, its writing style is not perfect. At times, the Tristan is slightly confusing for a casual reader, and the fact that the beginning and the ending are lost or incomplete doesn't help either.

That said, as a historian, and a consumer of fiction, I recommend Tristan as an enlightening read into a history of romantic literature. ( )

This is the earliest Tristan that I possess. From some time in the 1100's this is a primitive work. We are lacking the first third of the manuscript, and the cast list doesn't include Dinadan, my obvious favourite character. Even king Arthur gets no mention in this version. Mr. Fedrick's translation is quite readable. I've noted reading it twice. ( )

In my ongoing crusade to confute stories in which horrific, mind-bendingly irritating men and women are meant to be seen as heroes on the basis of the fact that

i) they're really hot
ii) they're a little bit damaged and
iii) they can't keep it in their pants,

the story of Tristan is like the Platonic form of evil, if there was such a thing (I am aware that the forms don't work like that).

Tristan, who is a bit of a scumbag, 'falls in love with' Yseut, who strongly resembles a 15 year old girl in her moral acuity, because of a love potion. When the potion wears off he realizes the error of his ways, and returns her to her husband... except he still seems to be pretty hot for her. Etc etc., they die and in death their love turns into two trees, which grow entwined with one another.

All that said, because the author avoids all the modern-day desiderata of moral complexity and so on, this turns out to be a great read. Beroul doesn't even try to suggest that his heroes are anything other than what they are, so even though he's always telling you how wonderful Tristan and Yseut are, and how villainous everyone else is, you're much more free to make up your own mind than in those show-instead-of-tell stories that lack an objective narrator. So, my mind is made up: beautiful, noble, chaste and charming T&Y deserve much worse than they got, and poor, villainous King Mark stands in for every man or woman who just wanted to be left alone to enjoy their family.

One downside: prose translations of poetry are always very odd, unless the poetry is on the facing page. That is not the case here. ( )

Strangely, I'd never read it all the way through until just now. Good thing, too, since I'm teaching it in about a month.

Among other reasons, it's interesting because the 'villainous' characters are all quite reasonable in their objections to Tristan and Iseult's affair, and Tristan himself is kind of a cad. Watch for the bit where Tristan agonizes over whether or not he needs to kill his dog because of its barking. ( )

This is not a very well-written story, either by modern standards or by ancient (Greco-Roman) standards. There is a good deal of inconsistency and lack of motivation for actions. The structure is episodic, and the episodes do not always fit together perfectly. To be fair, it makes a more coherent whole than, say, Mallory. It is also a great deal shorter.

A handful of unrelated details stand out as interesting. Arthur shows up in a small role. Gwynevere, Gawain, Kay, and the round table receive brief mentions.

Old Germanic ways show through in the idea of justice by individual combat. Tristan and Yseult are caught by King Mark in flagrante delicto, yet Tristan immediately swears that he will prove his innocence on the body of any man who dares accuse him. Since no one dares accuse him, he is deemed legally innocent.

Madmen are considered untouchable. They are allowed to walk into court and insult the king, and they are laughed at but not hindered. The parallel to the treatment of madmen by the Iroquois - if you believe the account in The Last of the Mohicans - is striking.

On the whole, not to be recommended as an entertaining read, but plenty of food for thought, and it is edifying to read the Arthurian romances in their original form.