Before anything else is said, it should be known that this edition is a prose translation, which does not retain most poetic characteristics of the original poem although for a modern English reader this is probably the best edition yet: fairly clear and still interesting in its own way. Orlando Furioso is a 16th century epic poem dealing with Charlamgne's wars against the "Saracens" who had (if we are to take the poem as historical fact) even reached the point of besieging the city of Paris. Of course,the book was not meant by its author to be historically accurate in any way, merely a parody of chivalric court legends as the book description says. Whoever reads this book and fails to sense irony on every page, even crude jokes in some parts clearly does not understand what he is reading in the least. But Orlando Furioso is not a parody of just chivalric court legends; it also pokes fun at the Illiad, popular tales and even common peasant stories. The heads (complete with helmets) sliced in two by a single sword blow are taken from The Illiad, in which Greek champions perform similar feats, although in Orlando Furioso, literally hundreds of men meet their end in this manner to the point of becoming amusing in a way. And I found it strange to notice a very clear similarity between the story told by an innkeeper in the book and the prologue to a translation of a 13th century version of the Arabian Nights (translated by Hussain Haddawy). Ariosto had no possible way to know of the existence of the Nights, but still it is interesting to see how truly close the two incidents are: In Orlando, two men who have given up on the possibility of women being chaste, take one woman and watch her day and night, yet she still deceives them in their own bed. In the Nights, a demon has locked his wife inside an impenetrable castle, yet she still deceives him as he sleeps right next to her in bed. The two events are described similarly, with the same irony (being meant as a joke which the author denies believing in in the least). The book is funny only in the way reading Candide is funny. This is simply another example of what makes the book enjoyable. During the reading of Orlando, somewhere about 3/4 of the way into the book, the reader may wish that it would end right there and that two characters; Bradamant and Ruggiero should get married and finish the story. But the continuation of their separation and further adventures is just another parody of common legends, exaggerated out of proportion. In the end, with all its jokes and its surprisingly individualistic narrative technique, its more serious scenes (the most touching of which is when a woman named Isabel is killed) forms into a large picture, with a great deal of good atmosphere, such that when it ends (although the reader may not have been touched very much during its reading) will want it to go on.

Ariosto was one of the giants of Renaissance literature, and this was his footprint. Grand, touching, funny, witty, stirring -- as Dryden said of Chaucer, here is the world's plenty. Some of the greatest poets of the next two centuries (Tasso, Spenser, Milton) explicitly attempted to overdo him, and only sometimes succeeded; Byron took as much from Ariosto as he did from Pulci.

But don't read this on that account. Read it because it's a delight from start to finish. War, love, and chivalry are the poet's themes, and they're here in all their forms.

I don't know Italian, but everyone I've asked who would know assures me Reynolds's translation captures not just the essence but the spirit of the original.

(Ignore the reviews that claim that this is a prose translation -- they are from another translation.)

Easy enough to refer to a prose translation as "appropriate for the masses," but the fact remains that when a translator is freed from the necessity of forcing a poem to conform to rhyme and meter in a second language, he has access to a broader range of vocabulary and is therefore more able to remain true to the spirit of the original (as Waldman deftly explains in his introduction). Is it any wonder that this work has received so little attention in America when past translations have been so hidebound and pedagogical? Orlando Furioso is anything but a sing-songy, staid old verse.

In Waldman's translation are to be found both the idealised virtues of chivalry and sometimes startlingly lowbrow humor, all wrapped up in an epic tale of adventure, romance and magic. By providing an unabridged translation (another shortcoming of more traditional editions), and by attempting to capture the true flavor of the work rather than slavishly abiding by the dictates of classical poetic rules, he has presented to English readers for the first time a tale that rivals the epics of Homer in its scope and aspiration. And for sheer entertainment value (coupled with the elitism of Ariosto's sly jabs at the very people for whom the work was composed), this work is all but impossible to beat-- his original audience, after all, was not the literati, but the idle rich.