When one defends the values of On Moral Fiction, the question most frequently asked is how John Gardner’s most "studied" novel, Grendel, fits the parameters of that essay on artistic morality. It’s a good question and one that perhaps John Gardner himself may have answered in different ways at different times in his life. Certainly, there are interviews that suggest he chose postmodernism as a vehicle for expression of Grendel’s tale. Other commentaries suggest that Gardner believed Grendel fell well within the scope of a traditional novel’s form, and that it fit well within the guidelines of a "life affirming" work of art.

It would be nice to be able to suggest that Grendel serves only to highlight those parts of ourselves suited for contemplation of the abyss; that the novel presents an amoral character in order to enlighten the reader’s perspective on morality. Grendel’s fascination with violence and blood could be Gardner’s attempt to contrast the gentler natures of humankind, part of the intuitive creative process through which the intrinsic life affirming values are highlighted, if only by contrast. Following that, a person might say that certain ultra-violent passages, and certain images that evoke horror are merely the "true" expressions of what is, after all, a monster. In fact, these were my suppositions when I first entertained the notion of doing this study.

Why not, I thought, analyze the Achilles’ heel of Gardner’s works when it comes to questions of "moral fiction." It is, after all, Grendel that the scholars question, that the critics revere, that the postmodernists accept as ‘one of their own.’ Why not prove them all wrong by showing how John Gardner had the exact opposite intention with the book? That what he meant to convey was the tragic evolution of a soul on the border between two worlds from the world of light to the world of darkness?—and that this, in fact, would be the highest tale of morality that could be told: the monster dies an evil death because he cannot conform to (human) societal standards of behavior.

There are several problems with such a position, primarily because it rests on the supposition that Gardner was actually writing an "anti Grendel" book, and that as readers we are supposed to be repulsed into living less violently. Yet, humans in the novel are as violent as Grendel, with far less conscience about it; Beowulf is perhaps the worst of all. Clearly, humans are not supposed to be the "life affirming" creatures of the book. Further, the soul of the book is Grendel’s search for himself, and the energy depends on the reader’s investment in the outcome of that search. Grendel continually wonders what existence means, and we wonder with him. His outcome and his eventual curse or blessing upon us makes the book what it is.

Only a careful study will reveal the answers, but I am certain of several things. The first is that Grendel is one of the greatest novels ever written. The second is that it "means" something, and conforms to traditional novelistic modes and is therefore not postmodern in the strictest sense. And the third is that it affirms life. How exactly these three things work, and in particular how the last assertion can be, will be the nature of my inquiry.