Dresses and Queens

Last week, I sort of promised that this week I would venture into pop culture territory if nothing intervened. It's true that there are at least three hurricanes veering more or less in our direction, but since I'm not in the actual vicinity of landfall, no matter where they hit (unless it's in the middle of the continental U.S.), I can't beg off pop culture duty due to emergency weather-related status. So there's no putting off this jaunt into television land.

Therefore, I will go ahead and tell you that after hearing about Game of Thrones for years, I finally caught a few episodes on TV over the last few weeks. One minute I was innocently flipping channels and the next I was immersed in a battle involving some rather large dragons, what appeared to be an army of the undead, and a fellow with a blue face. Such was my introduction, with little knowledge of the back story, to the world of Westeros and all the rest of it. My initial thought was that it was a rather grim place, but on the whole, no worse than some other places we've all seen.

My other discovery was Say Yes to the Dress, a program I find almost compulsively watchable, in almost the same way that a box of assorted chocolates is compulsively eatable. You might think that after watching a few brides try on gowns, share stories about how they met their grooms, argue with their mothers about what's appropriate in a neckline, solicit advice, shed tears, and go for a happy ending (or not), you'd have your fill and never need to watch again. Don't all these dress tales have basically the same plot, anyway? Well, yes and no. The story of a bride-to-be and her dress turns out to have archetypal resonance: like any fairy tale, it has endless variants and an ever-evolving cast of characters, who, while filling a finite number of roles (counselor, sidekick, mother, court jester, fairy godmother), manage to make the story new and different every time.

Has anyone else managed to mention Game of Thrones and Say Yes to the Dress in the same breath? I hope not. My apologies to fans of both shows if anyone thinks I'm denigrating either one by bringing them together in this way. If Yes to the Dress seems too frothy a confection to stand up against the epic grandeur of Thrones, and if girls just wanting to have fun resent any implication that their nuptial preparations bear any resemblance to the maneuvering of scheming queens and warring kingdoms, all I can say is, in my opinion, "It isn't, and they do."

Characters on Game of Thrones are always talking about someone else wanting them to "bend the knee," to pledge their allegiance to one ruler or another, often someone they deeply distrust, have a conflict of interest with, or despise to the bottom of their boots, and the most common way out of this appears to be talking endlessly without ever coming to terms or giving one's word without meaning to keep it. Those who stick to their principles have a hard time of it with this hard-bitten crew. In fact, the choice to "bend the knee" or not actually seems to have quite a bit in common with the decision to say "yes to the dress"--or not. In both cases, there is power in delay and approval withheld, even for someone in a vulnerable position. Saying "yes"--whether one is a courtier or a bride--amounts to a life-changing decision that sets an entire process in motion whose ends cannot be entirely foreseen by anyone. It makes little difference whether the "yes" is enthusiastic or grudging, freely given or coerced. Larger forces are at work in love and war.

Now that everyone is thrown off-guard by this metaphor-juxtaposition-conceit-or-what-have-you, I might as well deliver the coup de grace, which is: I suspect that Game of Thrones and Say Yes to the Dress are actually the same program. Queens, dresses, what's the difference? The characters are being asked to commit to a choice that in itself is only the prelude to whatever follows, the joining of two people or the joining of two kingdoms (two or more: in Game of Thrones, the relationships may be polygamous--though none of the brides I saw on Dress seemed interested in more than one groom, which points to the limitations of this otherwise spot-on comparison).

If someone out there is complaining, "Well, there's just no end to this folderol, if Game of Thrones and Say Yes to the Dress are the same program, next you'll be telling me that Property Brothers is the same thing as the CBS Evening News"--and I'll be forced to say, "No, it isn't." Property Brothers is an enjoyable fantasy that indulges the belief that people have power because they can knock down walls and install expensive bathroom fixtures in their homes. The CBS Evening News is, I assume, a journalistic venture, and thus in a different category altogether.

Is everybody clear?

Battle of the Bulls

Following up my interest in Welsh and Irish mythology from last week, I've been re-reading The Tain, Thomas Kinsella's translation of the great Irish epic, Tain Bo Cuailnge. The story concerns a great cattle raid in which Ailill and Medb, king and queen of Connacht in west Ireland, attempt to steal the Brown Bull of Cuailnge from Ulster in the east. (I wrote about bulls recently in recounting the story of King Minos and the white bull from Greek mythology; a bull is a potent symbol in both stories, though I wouldn't say it necessarily represents the same thing in both cases.)

The idea of stealing a bull stems from an argument Medb has with Ailill concerning which of them is worth more. She's greatly displeased at finding, after an exhaustive inventory, that no matter how closely her wealth matches that of her husband, she is one down because of the defection of a prize bull, Finnbennach, the White Horned (which, we're told, didn't care to be ruled by a woman), to the king's herd. Determined to fix this, she sends around the whole of Ireland to find a bull to replace it. After being told that Donn, the Brown Bull of Cuailnge, has no equal in the land, she decides to get him for herself. When the owner balks at lending him to her, Ailill and Medb amass a great army to go after the bull, despite omens of certain disaster for their warriors.

When I started the story the other night, I sat up in disbelief at the part where Medb and Ailill agree to go war to obtain the bull. What started as a marital disagreement quickly turns into a full-fledged military campaign, with Ailill's full participation. I'd forgotten how foolishly it all started . . . though the reasons for fighting in many of the old Irish stories (and not just the Irish ones) often turn on something this seemingly insignificant.

The story is full of death, destruction, foul deeds, and the exploits of the hero Cuchulainn, the famous Hound of Ulster, a one-man fighting machine who adroitly destroys a whole host of Medb's and Ailill's warriors. Despite the epic's bloodiness, the story is told with great humor and wit; Cuchulainn's outsize accomplishments and outrageous feats of arms provide, in my reading of it, an ironic commentary on the supposed heroism of the entire affair. So much is attempted for so little, and so many lives lost; the countryside is hacked and hewn so that ever afterward place names reflect the deadly events that took place there; friend fights against friend and alliances are broken--but Cuchulainn's superhuman acts will never be forgotten.

That the war comes to nothing in the end is no great surprise. As the Connacht faction attempts to escape with the Brown Bull, they come across his counterpart, Finnbennach, and it is the two beasts' turn to give battle. Following an epic struggle, the Brown Bull shows up the next morning bearing the mangled remains of his enemy, and after staggering about for a time, mortally wounded, gives up the ghost. Ailill and Medb make peace with the Men of Ulster, and everyone goes home. So much for the urgent imperatives and well-reasoned arguments of war. This is one epic that seems to turn on the futility of war, not its nobility.

When I first read this story a few years ago, it was entirely new to me, or so I thought at first. At some point during or after my reading of it, the phrase, "the Brown Cow of Cooley," surfaced from somewhere in the past. It was a phrase I remembered hearing my mother (who was Irish) say when I was little, and it occurred to me that her Brown Cow and this Brown Bull must surely be one and the same. I can't remember the exact context in which she spoke of it, but I seem to remember some exasperation in her tone that went with the phrase, as if it represented some great undertaking that was either impossible, not worth the effort, or both.

The story itself, if not the battle, is well worth pursuing for the verve and humor of the telling. When Medb, who does not know Cuchulainn, asks who he is, she is told, matter-of-factly, "You'll find no harder warrior against you--no point more sharp, more swift, more slashing; no raven more flesh-ravenous, no hand more deft, no fighter more fierce, no one of his own age one third as good, no lion more ferocious; no barrier in battle, no hard hammer, no gate of battle, no soldiers' doom, no hinderer of hosts, more fine. . . ."

"Let us not make too much of it," Medb said.*

*(Quotation from The Tain, translated by Thomas Kinsella from Tain Bo Cuailnge. Oxford University Press.)