The poem of the Cid

This jolly romp through Moorish Spain has a lot in common with the modern Hollywood blockbuster: a roguish and indestructible hero, a respectful attitude towards different cultures, and an alternating of bloody action with moments of boisterous camaraderie and farce. Spain's national epic, it's the kind of tale that kept Dark Ages audiences rapt, like England's Beowulf, sparking imaginations by the firelight. Thanks to Simpson's jovial and well-paced translation, its vigour still resonates. But where the Anglo-Saxon epic warns of the fallibility of great men, the Spanish saga exalts its hero unabashedly. It celebrates the Cid's valour and generosity of spirit; it delights in his capacity for trickery. Above all it trumpets his honour, for though the historical Cid is best known for helping drive the Muslims from central Spain, this literary hero - "he who in happy hour girded on his sword" - is much less a crusader than an adventurer. His opponents are as often fickle Spanish nobles as Moorish kings, and while he is always careful to thank God for his victories, the Cid is interested less in accruing lands for Christendom than in accumulating booty for his comrades and inches for his beard, the ever-lengthening symbol of his manhood. Some Moors are his friends, and the man he names as bishop of Valencia wields a sword more readily than a Bible. So beneath its Christian veneer, The Poem of the Cid is rather a pagan tale. Does its obsession with honour and its rank in the Spanish canon say something about Spain's national character? Perhaps. It certainly evokes values recurrent in its history, as in the conquest of the Americas and its aftermath: honour (which is "glory" by another name), zeal for booty, Christianizing as a pretext for earthly aims, and even the privileging of fair complexions - the Cid's virtuous daughters are "white like the sun."

... you can rediscover El Cid Campeador - the greatest hero of Spanish history - in a bilingual edition with the best English translation ever made, that of the poet W.S. Merwin! What more could I say! For a thousand or so dollars, you could travel to Burgos, one of the most pleasant and under-touristed cities of Spain, and view the actual tomb of El Cid - a real person - in the center of the best Gothic Cathedral in Spain. Be sure to look overhead, at the recently restored star-ceiling above El Cid's tomb; it's the finest 'mudejar' work of art anywhere in the world. It's a wise thing, once in a while, to look over your library. My copy of Merwin's translation is included in the Modern Library edition of "Medieval Epics". It's so old that the edges of the pages look like ambergris, but I could still read "El Cid" with the same boyish excitement as fifty-some years ago. It was better than a new Batman comic then! It's better than ever now.

This edition of The Poem of the Cid is truly wonderful. For starters, it is a bilingual edition, presenting the reader with the original medieval Spanish text. The translation itself is highly readable. The humour and tension in particular scenes shine in this translation.The story itself is also marvelous. We get a wonderful sense of the confusion and ambiguities of the feudal society. The uniqueness of the Spanish feudal experience comes through brilliantly. The Muslims are dealt with with more accuracy and tolerance than in any other work of medieval literature. The two Jewish characters in the poem -- moneylenders -- are presented without scorn. Indeed, it is the Frankish (probably Norman) count of Barcelona who is portrayed as the moronic outsider. There is much excellent description of medieval warfare, clothing, hommage ceremonies, and use of money, but most enlightening part of the story is the long trial scene.The poem is short, with a fast-paced and coherent plot. It is very easy to read this in one sitting because it is so gripping.

The Poem of the Cid (here translated by Lesley Byrd Simpson) is required reading for anyone interested in tales of high adventure, honor, and chivalry, for these things are the backgone of one of literature's greatest sagas: the tale of Ruy Diaz of Bivar,the Cid, and Spain's greatest knight.Unfairly exiled from his King's country, the Cid throws himself into Moorish Spain to battle, plunder, and rebuild his name. Eventually the Cid's heroism explodes the King's enmity, and he returns home in glory. But the Cid errs in marrying his unsuspecting daughters to the craven Princes of Carrion, unleashing such suffering and dishonor on the girls that only a colorful trial by combat can satisfy the Cid's lust for revenge and heal his family's wounded honor.Rich in medieval tapestry and flavor and a more realistic depiction of the "chivalric code" than one finds in parallel works (the Cid, for all his honor, is not above deceiving his enemies--or some of his friends!), The Poem of the Cid is highly recommended to anyone born with the spirit of a knight in their heart.

This book should belong to the universal, or at least Western, canon of all times. It is the foundation of Spanish literature and national myth. And, for those who think classics, especially medieval, are boring, surprise, it is not at all.Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, the Cid, is a great warrior who, because of political intrigue, is dismissed by his master. He leaves and continues his fight against the Moors, who are the masters of most Spain since the 9th century. He conquers Valencia and starts forging his legend, fighting not only the Moors but other traitors to the cause of unfying Spain. One of the best and most famous scenes is the marriage of his two daughters, Urraca and Ximena. The book is written in truly epic style, full of adventures, battles, duels and, especially all the Medieval flavor that makes it unforgettable. In a good translation, the grandiosity of many sentences should be neatly perceived. It's hard to stop recommending this great work of art, a true belonger to the best classic literature the West has produced.