The Bookworm: The Odyssey

The Odyssey, translated by Robert Fagles. 541 pages. Penguin Classics. 1996.

So long as the gods grant him power, spring in his knees,
he thinks he will never suffer affliction down the years.
But then, when the happy gods bring on the long hard times,
bear them he must, against his will, and steel his heart.
Our lives, our mood and mind as we pass across the earth,
turn as the days turn… (p. 380).

After finishing my last Fear Street novel, I looked at The Odyssey sitting atop my reading queue and thought, “I don’t want to read that.” And I almost didn’t; I almost put it back on my self. But knew it would mock me — “You didn’t read me!” — every time I saw it, so I dove in and regretted ever trying to overlook it.

The Odyssey is (excuse the pun) epic. It is a powerful story that is masterfully told. And despite the millennia that separate me and the society and culture of the characters, I could not help feeling a strange but keen kinship with them, the author(s), and those who listened to the same story recited by ancient rhapsodes. However, I am unsure how much of that has to do with the fact this version is not a literal translation. (“Not a line-by-line translation,” wrote Robert Fagles, the translator, in the Notes on the Translation, “my version of the Odyssey is, I hope, neither so literal in rendering Homer’s language as to cramp and distort my own — though I want to convey as much of what he says as possible — nor so literary as to brake his energy, his forward drive, though I want my work to be literate and clear. For the more literal approach would seem to be too little English, and the more literary seems too little Greek. What I have tried to find is a cross between the two, a modern English Homer (p. 490).”) Regardless, The Odyssey is a great tale and nothing like the cheesiness portrayed in sixties stop motion movies.

The Odyssey tells the story of Odysseus, the king of Ithaca, who left his wife, Penelope, and their infant son, Telemachus, twenty years before to wage war with his fellow Achaeans at Troy. Ten years after the fall of Troy, he has yet to return home. Though everyone hopes he is still alive and on his way back to Ithaca, hope is fading. A band of suitors, who wine and dine at the expense of Odysseus’ estate, are vying to make Penelope their wife and neither she nor Telemachus can stand them. So Telemachus, encouraged by the goddess Athena, sets sail to seek news of his father. Meanwhile, Odysseus, alive and well but essentially a sex slave for the goddess Calypso, yearns for home. He was knocked off course (for years!) after leaving Troy and lost all his men to misadventure and their own misdeeds before being taken in by Calypso. Athena and her father, Zeus, scheme = to send Odysseus home and set him on his way. Poseidon tries his best to thwart Odysseus’ journey but the man finally returns to his native land thanks to the Phaeacians. Instead of going straight home to his wife and son, Athena disguises Odysseus as an old man and he tests his servants and loved ones, and also learns of what has happened while he was gone, before revealing himself to all.

Before reading, I had no clue what The Odyssey was about. I had heard the über short synopsis — “a guy gets sidetracked on his way home,” or something like that — but knew nothing else. Instead of expecting something like The Iliad, which I read in college, I kept thinking of the classic stop motion movie, Jason and the Argonauts. I loved The Iliad and thought it was well-grounded. Even the parts involving the Greek gods did not feel overly fantastic. But I always associated The Odyssey with absurd sea monsters and Cyclopses. Granted, there are a couple monsters and a Cyclops in The Odyssey, but they do not distract from the story or seem out of place. And instead of being presented as part of the story itself, those parts of Odysseus’ ill-fated trip home are instead told to the Phaeacians by Odysseus himself, which was a big surprise for me; they were, in a way, set apart from what I consider the main focus of The Odyssey: Odysseus’ final leg home and his return to Ithaca. Odysseus’ encounters with Polyphemus, the Cyclops, as well as the monsters Scylla and Charybdis are not distracting or nonsensical in any way (despite the fact they are totally fictional creatures).

The introduction by Bernard Knox not only provides valuable information regarding the culture and customs of ancient Greeks — which helps one understand the unwritten rule of gladly welcoming guests — but it also presents the myriad theories regarding The Odyssey’s authorship and when it originated. Though some believe that both The Iliad and Odyssey were composed by the same poet, Homer, others believe there were multiple “authors.” Each rhapsode, who would recite the poems from memory, possibly had his own slightly different version, and one was finally recorded in writing. If there was one single author, though, could he read and write? Or was he just a storyteller? Writing and reading were developed by the Greeks around the eighth century BC and Knox writes that the Odyssey was composed sometime after 675 BC, so there is debate about whether the same person who recited the poem actually wrote it, or if it was transcribed by someone who knew how to write. There is even uncertainty regarding its ancient presentation. It is obviously way too long to be recited in one night, so where performances given over multiple nights? And how was the story originally divided? There are currently twenty-four chapters, but many believe that those were imposed on the text when it was transcribed onto scrolls (each chapter, perhaps, represents a different scroll that needed to be used). Insanely interesting stuff and nobody may ever know for sure the true history of The Odyssey. Which is sad, really.

And, yes, it is considered a poem. However, it thankfully reads like prose and is incredibly rhythmic. Fagles definitely has a way with words because the text is never awkward and flows smoothly and seamless. The constant repetition of often lengthy stories and personal histories becomes tiresome, but everything fits perfectly.

All righty. Now I think I can confidently tackle Ulysses.

Words I did not know/am still unfamiliar with: All definitions are courtesy of my MacBook dictionary. Armature: in this context it means “a metal framework on which a sculpture is molded with clay or similar material.” Ligature: in the context used it means “a character consisting of two or more joined letters, e.g., æ, fl.” Vellum: “fine parchment made originally from the skin of a calf.” Syllabary: “a set of written characters representing syllables and (in some languages or stages of writing) serving the purpose of an alphabet.” In flagrante delicto: “in the very act of wrongdoing, esp. in an act of sexual misconduct.” Rhapsode: “a person who recites epic poems, esp. one of a group in ancient Greece whose profession it was to recite the Homeric poems from memory.” Importunate: “persistent, esp. to the point of annoyance or intrusion.” Perfidy: “deceitfulness; untrustworthiness.” Exculpate: “show or declare that (someone) is not guilty of wrongdoing.” Finespun (or fine-spun): “(esp. of fabric) fine or delicate in texture.” Brailed: “brail” is “small ropes that are led from the leech of a fore-and-aft sail to pulleys on the mast for temporarily furling it” so “brailed” means “furl (a sail) by hauling on such ropes.” Scurf: “flakes on the surface of the skin that form as fresh skin develops below, occurring esp. as dandruff.” Lapis (as in “lapis lazuli”): “a bright blue metamorphic rock consisting largely of lazurite, used for decoration and in jewelry.” Sere: “dry; arid.” Wraith: “a ghost or ghostlike image of someone, esp. one seen shortly before or after their death.” Wile: “devious or cunning stratagems employed in manipulating or persuading someone to do what one wants.” Baldric: “a belt for a sword or other piece of equipment, worn over one shoulder and reaching down to the opposite hip.” Scud: “move fast in a straight line because or as if driven by the wind.” Groats: “hulled or crushed grain, esp. oats.” Bauble: “a small, showy trinket or decoration.” Crone: “an old woman who is thin and ugly.” Unguent: “a soft greasy or viscous substance used as an ointment or for lubrication.” Brazier: “a portable heater consisting of a pan or stand for holding lighted coals.” Galled: in this instance it is used as a verb to mean “make (someone) feel annoyed.” Hackles: “the hairs on the back of a person's neck, thought of as being raised when the person is angry or hostile.” Buckler: “a small, round shield held by a handle or worn on the forearm.” Scholiast: “a commentator on ancient or classical literature.” Philhellene: “a lover of Greece and Greek culture.” Vade mecum: “a handbook or guide that is kept constantly at hand for consultation.”