Reviewed by Rachael A. Zubal-Ruggieri
Set in an era of warring kings, Menewood is a literary novel told primarily from the viewpoint of Hild (or Hilda of Whitby) whose narrative offers a rich, speculative history of seventh century Britain. Hild is a decidedly “different” young woman. She’s intelligent, willful, and her way of being in the world marks her as uncanny and strange. Hild has a knack for intertwining her senses with an instinctive understanding of nature into well-thought-out logic—she deciphers patterns and often predicts what might happen.
At the beginning of Menewood, Hild has already accomplished a great deal in her young life: “She is eighteen, honed and tested, the formidable Lady of Elmet, now building her personal stronghold in the valley of Menewood” (Macmillan Press). But she is drawn back into conflict and faces the brutal consequences of war. Ever-changing alliances test her, necessitating a radical shift in strategizing, resulting in bold moves to ensure her future—and that of her people.
Menewood is a long and richly detailed text divided into three books with seven sections, and within each section there is a cover page containing three relevant lines informing the reader of the who-where-when. Griffith also provides many other tidbits at the very start: “Maps” (each with a detailed legend), a “Family Tree,” and a “Cast of Characters” (details on non-related characters). An author’s note, a glossary and acknowledgements are included at the end.
The sections are titled after Hild’s differing identities and transformations, what Griffith calls “bynames.” Hild certainly cements old bynames established in the previous volume in the series, Hild, but she also leaves a few of them behind. But as I read Menewood, I realized that some of the bynames were simply iterative, a set of refinements. Most of these examples emerge “[as] [Hild] begins acting as a leader in her own right, not just an enforcer or mouthpiece for others” (Griffith, “Hild’s Bynames #1: Freemartin“).
First are “Butcherbird and Cath Llew,” the title for the first section, emphasizing Hild’s “seemingly supernatural insight” into order among chaos—what she regularly refers to as “the pattern.” Next is “Godmouth,” or seer, a role she previously served for her uncle, Edwin Overking. Edwin faces new threats, so he summons Hild back from Elmet to give him council. Things go horribly wrong, and the losses are substantial. Thus, she transitions into “Hild Gul” during a desolate time when she disassociates from all previous titles and expectations and becomes nearly lost in grief; Hild is practically a ghost of herself. Then she slowly heals and reawakens to become “Lord of Deira,” ushering in a period of reclamation and rebuilding with her personal band of men, the Fiercesomes, with other important people playing important roles as well.
While preparing for yet more war, she emerges as “Yffing Boar.” Brand and symbol of Hild’s lineage, the boar serves to bolster Hild and her people for the difficult and rapidly changing time ahead of them. Hild-as-Boar has metamorphosed already, from “Little Prickle” (in Hild) to “Yffing Boar,” then ascending to apex war pig, “Baedd Coch,” or “Red Boar.” Hild transforms into a “hell beast” (p. 636), facing the enemy king, Cadwallon, and his men in the climactic battle of Deniseburna, face painted blood red—and wins, emerging as “Kingshaper,” though this byname is cautionary, as she is also revealed as a “king breaker” (p. 670). Hild has had to broker deals with all kinds of people, and after the climactic battle of Deniseburna, there is a long stream of yet more negotiations to be made. While there is a modicum of stability during this period of time, Hild believes things will likely change yet again.
At this point, Hild has had far too many bynames and identities (some merged, some not) and it is at this juncture the reader learns that Hild doesn’t necessarily identify with any of these monikers. She has power and skill as a “kingshaper,” sure, but she doesn’t want to be used by anyone else again.
Someone asks her, “Who is the real Hild Yffing?” (p. 673). Who indeed. And while she might be content to settle down in the valley of Menewood, she realizes she needs to move on, and this is the point at which the book concludes. However, this is not the end of Hild’s story.
Griffith took the existential question, “Who is the real Hild Yffing?” and posited it at length. I read several supplementary blog entries, articles, and interviews with Griffith, who confirms that “Hild was real” (p. 683), but there isn’t a lot of information about Hild available:
Everything we know about her comes from the Venerable Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, the foundational text of English history. Of that work, a scant five pages refer to Hild (Griffith, “Hild“).
Griffith spent years collecting data, researching the landscape, languages, culture, agriculture, animal husbandry, and more for both Hild and Menewood. She’s documented her work on her personal website as well as via a blog specifically about “making the novels about Hild of Whitby.” More details are shared in an interview published in the December 2019 issue of Wordgathering, including how in Menewood, Griffith writes disability back into history.
I enjoyed Menewood immensely and had to reread several pages before writing this review. I skimmed the author’s notes’ section on pronunciation, as the names and places were a bit confusing. Many had either similar spellings, or I couldn’t begin to pronounce them. But that didn’t take anything away from my experience of the story. I appreciated how language and labelling (bynames included) were complicated during that time period.
I could almost feel the atmosphere change as the story progressed, the chill in the air, the mud covering everything, and the mists that emerged as the seasons changed, as if the world knew war—and abrupt change—was coming. But at one point, I began to wonder how much of the book—the characters, places, etc.—were perhaps better understood from reading the first volume, Hild. I found a partial answer: Menewood continues a mere four months after the end of Hild. While I had hoped to read both books, I simply wasn’t able to do so, apart from the first chapter of Hild. There are enough references to the first volume, including a few wistful scenes about Hild’s childhood companion and soulmate, Cian, to understand the story. Griffith’s way of expressing thoughts, circumstances, and definitions is remarkable. Griffith’s use of bynames and the detail in the language demonstrate how Hild is transformed from a weird, godly girl to a learned, battle-tested woman-warrior, inclusive of disability. Griffith writes Hild as larger than life, in more ways than one: as bold, seventh-century, disabled nobility—tall and girthy, talented and wordsmithy; neurodivergent and lynx-like; and unapologetically queer.
Disability is well represented in Menewood, specifically due to war and famine. Griffith also provides insight into how disabilities might otherwise have manifested in seventh-century folk, as there were limitations in medical care during this era, as well as disfigurement, cognitive differences, trauma, and distress, most of which occurred as a result of nearly constant conflict and oppression. Hild herself becomes physically injured and traumatized. After a period of recuperation, she forges on. As a part of her process, Hild regularly sought solitude in nature to think things through, then consistently convened with her people, especially the Fiercesomes, a band of disabled misfits, who were scarred and physically imposing while also well-respected and strong. Hild and her people formed an intersectional, united front, fostering a sense of belonging and an inclusive community.
Hild’s life after the events of Menewood are much more well known, as Hilda of Whitby became a historical figure, bending the ear of kings and educating bishops and other religious figures of the time. While complicated and at times admittedly difficult, it seems her experiences of disablement in some respects served her well as she left Menewood behind and moved into the annals of early British history.
Title: Menewood: A Novel
Author: Nicola Griffith
Publisher: Macmillan
Year: 2023
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About the Reviewer
Rachael A. Zubal-Ruggieri (she/her/hers, they/them/theirs) is a long-time employee at Syracuse University. She co-created (with Diane R. Wiener) “Cripping” the Comic Con, the first of its kind interdisciplinary and international symposium on disability and popular culture, previously held at SU. At conferences and as a guest lecturer for many years, Rachael has presented on the X-Men comic books, popular culture, and disability rights and identities from her perspective as a Neurodivergent person and as a Mad Queer Crip. Entries in their “Micro Mutant Postcard Project” have been published in Wordgathering: A Journal of Disability Poetry and Literature and Stone of Madness. Their most recent publications include two articles (co-authored with Diane R. Wiener) in the Journal of Literary & Cultural Disability Studies‘ Special Issue, “Cripping Graphic Medicine I: Negotiating Empathy and the Lived Experiences of Disability in and through Comics” (Volume 17, Issue 3).