CBR16 BINGO: Rings, because “Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam.”
The Princess Bride has been on my TBR list for a long time, mostly to satisfy my curiosity about the source material that led to the creation of one of the most beloved movies of the 1980s, not to mention one of my personal top 5. I was surprised to discover that many of the most memorable lines of dialogue come directly from the book (“You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it does.” Or “You fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous is ‘Never get involved in a land war in Asia.'”). I shouldn’t have been so surprised; William Goldman was a successful screenwriter, having won Academy Awards for Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and All the President’s Men. That said, reading a book upon which a perfect film is based is a little like watching a movie after you’ve seen all the best bits in the trailer. This makes reviewing The Princess Bride with fresh eyes something of a challenge.
Like the movie, The Princess Bride is metafiction: The fairytale exists within the larger construct of the novel as a story written by a fictitious S. Morgenstern, a famous author from the fictional country of Florin. In the novel, the author (a fictitious version of William Goldman) had heard the story, as read by his father, many times as a child; as an adult, he goes to significant trouble to find a print copy for his own son, only to be disappointed in his child’s disinterest. Finally sitting down to read it himself, the fictional Goldman learns that the book is a lengthy political satire, and his father had been skipping all the boring stuff, reading only “the good bits.” He decides to edit down Morgenstern’s story and publish it as he remembers his father reading to him, thus giving the world the Princess Bride that he remembers.
Once we get into the fairytale proper, the story is faithful to what we see in the movie (I’m assuming you’ve seen the movie, because if not, what is wrong with you?). Inigo Montoya is still the most awesome character, and Fezzik is the lovable giant with a passion for rhyming. Buttercup and Westley still fall in love; Westley is “killed” by the Dread Pirate Roberts; Buttercup is engaged, then kidnapped; Westley defeats the kidnappers and is imprisoned; Westley is tortured and dies; Miracle Max brings him back; Inigo kills the six-fingered man; the heroes escape (probably?).
One thing that struck me is how beautifully the novel was translated into film–again, Goldman was a talented screenwriter who adapted his own novel for the screen. Bits of backstory have been efficiently translated into compact lines of dialogue. For example, the critical components of Inigo’s backstory and the six-fingered man who murdered his father were adapted into the dialogue that takes place between Westley and Inigo before the famous duel scene. The best and funniest lines have been pulled from the novel and incorporated into the screenplay, even if, at times, they are moved or given to a different character. (One exception–a show-stopping line that was left out of the movie takes place between Inigo and Vizzini, when Inigo says he doesn’t like the idea of killing a girl. “God does it all the time,” Vizzini replies. “If it doesn’t bother Him, don’t let it worry you.” That line is gold.)
The asides from Goldman (his “footnotes”) are fun. When Westley and Buttercup are reunited, the book completely skips over any reunion scene/kiss. Goldman claims to have corrected this by writing his own reunion scene, which readers could get by writing to his publisher (This was 1973: people had to write a letter, buy a stamp, drop it in a mailbox, and then wait for God knows how long to get a response.). There was no such scene; however, readers who wrote in would receive a letter explaining the legal issues that have been delaying the publication of said scene. (The letter is included in the 25th Anniversary edition of the novel.)
With all this wonderfulness, what reservations could I have? Well. . . a couple of things. Buttercup is the Barbiest of Barbies who really doesn’t inspire anything like respect until the final pages of the novel. This is supposed to be a story about true love, yet Westley doesn’t seem to appreciate anything about her beyond her beauty. In fact, during the final escape, both Westley and Inigo tell her to shut up and do as she’s told within the span of a single page. And remember the scene right after the Man in Black steals Buttercup away from Vizzini, and he taunts her about having never truly loved? In the novel, the Man in Black slaps her! I would expect that to be addressed before Buttercup goes off with Westley into the Fire Swamp, but no. Are we supposed to assume words are exchanged during the missing “reunion” scene? Now, you might say, perhaps I’m taking it too seriously, because The Princess Bride is a satire, or even a spoof of fairytales. Maybe, except Goldman claimed to have simply written it as a fun fairytale for his daughters, and I hope he didn’t raise them to let their boyfriend slap them without consequence.
I know, this book was written in 1973, and I try my best not to judge a book by modern standards. The problem is 1973 is within my lifetime, so it’s feeling more personal. To be fair, it’s also a wee bit toxic toward men, as when Buttercup tells Count Rugen, “Westley would never cry. Except for the death of a loved one.” In the fictional Goldman’s intro, he also takes swipes at his overweight son and frigid therapist wife. Neither of these things are true–the real Goldman had two daughters and wasn’t married to a therapist. Again, I know. Fiction. Yet Goldman’s intro has the faint whiff of mysogyny that was common in the 1970s.
So here I am, struggling to rate a very funny novel that was adapted into a perfect film, struggling not to overthink this and mark the book down for asides that were obviously inserted for the sake of comedy. I’ve settled on 4 stars; it deserves 4 stars for being the source of almost everything I love about the film. I’m taking off a star for the things that annoyed me.
One final note: The Twenty-Fifth Anniversary Edition includes the first chapter of a lost sequel titled Buttercup’s Baby. The intro to this is entertaining, mainly because it includes a fictionalized Stephen King. The chapter itself is fine. It confirms that the heroes (Buttercup, Westley, Inigo, and Fezzik) did, in fact, escape, but it doesn’t do much else for their story. I’m sort of glad Goldman never got around to completing a sequel, if that was indeed his intention.
