The Essential Iliad

as a native english speaker, im not exposed to translated books very often; so this reread is the first time where i have truly comprehended the significance of a translation and how it can either make or break a story.

i first read parts of ‘the iliad’ back when i was in school and i just remember the text being very stiff and formal. it did not hold my attention at all because i couldnt understand it. but as i have come to love this story over the years (through retellings and other media), i decided to give this another try. after a lot of research, i chose this edition and translation, and i cannot stress enough how it has made all the difference.

the epic of ‘the iliad’ has its roots in oral storytelling and i am so impressed at how the flow of the language in this feels like someone is sitting next to me, personally telling me a tale about the best of greeks and their plight against the trojans. its a really neat feeling to experience such an authentic nod to homer and how he told this story, almost to the point where i feel as if i have been a part of this epics great history.

↠ 5 stars

3½ stars

Two mysteries were solved by my finally finishing  The Iliad.

1) It is so obvious why these Ancient Greek stories have survived for so many years-- it's all gory violence and sex. Homer tapped into these marketing tools early.

2) I now understand why puritanical attitudes toward female sexuality developed. Pretty much everything bad that happens is caused by Helen of Troy - "slut that I am" - running off with Paris, and Hera seducing Zeus. The ancients must have read this and been like "please, girls, just... don't".

Also: It seems I may have been too harsh with  Sarah J. Maas and her mist-rising, earth-shaking sex scenes. Clearly she was channeling Homer:

n  “The son of Cronus spoke and took his wife in his arms; and the divine earth sent up spring flowers beneath them, dewy clover and crocuses and a soft and crowded bed of hyacinths, to lift them off the ground. In this they lay, covered by a beautiful golden cloud, from which a rain of glistening dewdrops fell.”n

It's taken me so long to read this because, every time I tried to start, I kept comparing it to  The Odyssey, which I like much more. Odysseus's journey and encounters with creatures such as cannibal giants are very entertaining. And, when it comes down to it, I can only enjoy so many war scenes. Seeing as  The Iliad is all about the Trojan War, there are a lot of war scenes.

BUT it is saved by the Greek gods. What a ridiculous bickering soap opera the Greek pantheon is. I genuinely burst out laughing multiple times. I like the Greek gods because they are so flawed and jealous and vindictive and, um, human. Hera, especially, is a piece of work. I love her. Sometimes you have to wonder what was going through the heads of Ancient Greeks when this is how they imagined their gods. From Hera calling Artemis a "shameless bitch" like something out of Mean Girls, to all the gods supporting their favourite team (Greek or Trojan) in the war like it's a damn football match.

The Iliad gets better in the last eight books. It is more of a struggle in the beginning (mainly books 4-13) because there are some pages that blend together in a stream of similar-sounding Greek and Trojan men stabbing each other with spears. Often in the nipple or buttocks, too, which seems… peculiar.

I'll stop being silly, though. It is a remarkable - if admittedly sexist - work. It's strange to think how themes and values that were important 3,000 years ago are still important today. I don't know if Homerian spoilers are a thing, but I'll just say that the one death, the death of the story can still be felt so very deeply all these years after its writing. The only thing more tragic than losing the one you love most is knowing you could have prevented it.

I was disappointed my library didn’t have the Caroline Alexander translation, which is the first English translation by a woman, but Rieu’s Translation was fantastic. Very smooth reading, unlike another recent read of mine -  The Epic of Gilgamesh. I'm glad I finally read it.

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"Did you really LIKE the Iliad, mum?"

My son has just finished reading it, and his question is valid. Do you really LIKE to read line after line of gory murder, repeated endlessly from song to song?

I evaded the question, speaking of fantastic opening lines, of classic art and immense influence on other authors. And then I capitulated - a little:

"The Odyssey is much more interesting as a story!" I said.

"So you didn't like it then?"

"I liked reading it!"

And we agreed that some books just ARE. As a reader, you will want to tackle them at some point, and the rules you apply to more recent works of fiction don't count. You award yourself 5 stars for finishing, for knowing more than you did before starting. But then my son killed the Iliad with a spear as sharp as those of Homeric warriors. He compared it to Greek tragedy. And that is where I stumbled: those ARE too - but I also LIKE reading them. They are thought-provoking, exciting, and classic. Troy's fall from the perspective of Philoctetes is pure literary bliss. The Iliad is not. But it remains...

الالياذة وهوميروس يجعلان منك طفلاً صغيراً تتحدث مع نفسك طيلة ايام قراءة الملحمة تمارس الهلوسة الهوميرية بكل جنونها، تستفيق هواية المعارك في مخيلتك، تتحمس، تغضب،تشارك بعقلك وانفعالاتك، تبكيك مشاهد مصرع الابطال، تلهبك ساحة المعارك المكتظة بصليل السيوف وتدافع الاجساد المتعطشة للدماء والمجد قبل كل شئ، يتلاعب بك هوميروس كيفما يشاء هو وآلهته الخالدة وأبطاله شبه المجانين ، يرتحل بك في العالم القديم في بلاد الاغريق، في طروادة، في معبد دلفي، في جبال الاولمبوس.. نادر أن تشعر بالغربة وأنت تقرأ في الملحمة نادراً ما تجد نفسك بعيداً هناك، لم يكن من الجيد أن تقوم بإخفاء نفسك خلف جدران طروادة العظيمة، لم يكن لك الحق في التخلي عن المعركة ،فهنا إما أن تكون أو لا تكون، هيكتورياً أو مواكباً لغضبة " أخيليوس " سريع القدم المتدثر دائماً بلباس الحرب والغضب معاً، لقد ولد مع الغضب وارتحل مع جنونه اينما حل.. حينما سمع بمقتل " باتروكلوس " كاد أن يجز رقبته بخنجره لولا أن قبض على يديه ومنعه إبن نيستور الحكيم..



صراع محتدم بدأ بإختطاف الجميلة "هيلينا" من أرض الاغريق على الكسندروس "بارس" ذاك الشقي الذي جلب الويلات لبلاده الذي وصفه هيكتور ذاته مرة " ايها المعتوه، ليت الارض قد بلعتك من قبل أن ترى النور في مدينة برياموس" ..أتفق أن باريس كان هواياً للنساء مفتونا بجماله ومحباً لهذا النوع من المغامرات التي تدفعه نفسه إلى خطف النساء والرجوع بهن إلى طروداة كـ سبيات وأسيرات في قصره، لم يخطر أنه قد جلب الوبال على شعبه قد تسبب في هلاك أمته ومحوها من خريطة العالم حين أفتتن بـ " هلينيا" الجميلة زوجة مينلاؤس شقيق الملك أجامنون، إختطفها من القصر وأبحر بها إلى طروادة لتصبح محظية له هناك..
ما أن أدرك مينلاؤس ذلك الذي حدث حتى قام بتحفز أخيه على تجهيز العدة وشن غارة على طروادة التعيسة، أجابه شقيقه إلى ذلك بل وأجتمع جميع قبائل وملوك وسادة الاغريق على مشاركة الحملة الساعية أولاً لأرجاع زوجة مينلاؤس وثانياً نهب كنوز طروادة التي كانت ذائعة الصيت في مقدار كنوزها وغناها التي كانت تتباهى بها في العالم القديم..
وصل المدد من كل مكان واحتشدت القوات الاخيبة والدانائيين مجتمعين لبدء الحملة والسطو على طروادة المجيدة معقل هكتور ومن قبل ذلك برياموس ذلك الشيخ الهرم حبيب الالهة.. بعد تسع سنوات من الابحار ومكابدة العناء كما تصف الملحمة، وصلت الحشود العظيمة يتقدمها أجاممنون الملك بنفسه ومع شقيقه المترف الأحزان، وسيد الغضب والقتال سريع القدم كما يصفه هوميروس " أخيليوس " أو أخيل البطل الاغريقي الخالد الساغي دائماً وراء المجد وتحطبم اسوار المدن العتيقة والابنية الشاهقة على رؤوس اصحابها وسبي اجمل نساء البلاد الاخرى.. أخيليوس الذي لم يداهمه يوماً الشبع من قتل الابطال في صيحات القتال ولا منازلة الجبابرة وسحقهم في مشاهد درامية كثيرة، كان آخرها مع هكتور صاحب طروادة..
أخيليوس هناك جالساً في خيمته غاضباً تغني إلهة الشعر نفسها في وصف عنفوان غضبه، يصب اللعنات على اليوم الذي قرر فيه الابحار ومقاتلة اهل طروادة، ذلك لم يكن بسبب تلك المحظية التي قرر اجاممنون أن يبقيها لنفسه، خريسئيس الفاتنة التي عشقها أجاممنون وتمرد على بطله اخيليوس وانتزع تلك الجميلة من بين ذلك الاسد الهائج المسمى أخيليوس..
أخيليوس وحيوان الغضب في داخله تحولا إلى جبل لا يتزحح قرر فيها أن يترك الآخيين ليواجهوا مصيرهم في مواجهة الطرواديين الذي كانوا يتلهفون لمثل هذا النزاع المؤدي إلى فصل اكبر قوة عن ميدان ابناء الاغريق، الذي قرروا ان يواصلوا الحرب بدونه..



تلك الغضبة هي التي تأسست عليها الإلياذة - اي غضبة أخيليوس - وهي التي كانت البداية لكتابة هذه الملحمة الخلابة.. والتي مطلعها :-

n  

" غّنِ لي يا ربة الشعر عن غضبة أخيليوس بن بيليوس المدمرة، التي ألحقت بالآخيين مآسي تفوق الحصر ، ودفعت إلى العالم الآخر (هاديس -العالم السفلي) بأرواح الكثيرين من الابطال البواسل ،بينما جعلت من أجسادهم لقمة سائغة للكلاب وكل أنواع الجوارح، وهكذا تحققت مشيئة زيوس ، غّنِ ممن جاءت هذه الغضبة بادئة من حيث أخذ الشقاق بين (أجاممنون) ملك الرجال وبين أخيليوس (شبيه الآلهة) ... من مِن بين الآلهة هو ذلك الذي دفع الأثنين إلى الصراع فيما بينهما.. أنه (أبوللون) الوضاء، فهو الذي أدى غضبه إلى انتشار الطاعون المشؤوم بين المقلتلين وإلى هلاك الرجال "

n


ما أن بدأت بقراءة هذا الأبيات الأولى حتى شعرت بألفة غريبة تجاه ما أقرأ وكأنها منحوتة لتبقى خالدة وعصية على النسيان وعلى ظهر الحياة تدب كلماتها ورونقها الساحر الملئ بالمتناقضات والجنون، مساحة كبيرة من الخيال والشغف تمنحها لك الأبيات الأولى وهي تقنتص عمداً مخيلة القارئ للذهاب بعيداً جداً حيث لا وجود إلا لتلك الثلة من الأبطال والمدن الحصينة والسفن المقوسة التي تحمل على ظهرها ذلك العدد الهائل من المقاتلين المطالبين بالمجد، تلك السفن السائرة في ضباب البحر ومشاهد الغروب الخالدة..



وكم كان قلب أخيليوس قاسياً حينها وهو يجدف في حق أصحابه هناك ويتركهم سريع القدم وهم يُقتلون على يد هيكتور أبن برياموس وبقية الطرواديين، صرخات نيستور الحكيم تملأ ساحة القتال منادياً بالويل على من ينسحب من المعركة ويذكرهم بالمجد في كل حين،أجاممنون في حالة الغضب والرثاء وهو يشاهد حشود الطرواديين متقدمة نحو سفن الآخيين منذرة بإحراق السفن نفسها.. أوديسيوس ربيب الآلهة يصيد أرواح الطرواديين برحمهه الذي لا زال يخترق الأجساد الطروادية، الثنائي أياس يتضرعان للآلهة أن لا يمنح النصر للطرواديين، ومازالت رماح الآخيين تنحرف عن مسارها بإرادة " زيوس " الذي لم يكن يأبه لتلك التضرعات الذي قدمها أجاممنون ومن قبله نيستور الحكيم ولا للقرابين التي تم ذبحها لهذا الإله القاسي الذي مكن الطرواديين من الغلبة في الكثير من الجولات حتى كاد أجاممنون أن يعلن الانسحاب نحو السفن خوفاً من إحراق السفن المقوسة والوقوع في شرك أعدائهم، لولا يقظة الثنائي أياس الذين استبسلا للدفاع عن السفن والذود عن آخر ما تبقى من المعنويات للآخيين المتمركزين عند السفن، نقطة التحول حدثت عندما هب باتروكلوس يحض أخيليوس على القتال ويذكره بمآل الاغريق الذي سيكون بشعاً على يد الثائرين من اهل طروادة ومن خلف بعض الآلهة التي كانت ترغب في سحق الجيش الاغريقي.. باتروكلوس حاول ان يسكن غضبة اخيليوس، لم يستطيع ذلك الشقي ان يفعل شيئاً سوى يتدرع بدرع اخيليوس ويواجه حشود الطرواديين وحده..



ولقد علم اخيليوس هنالك معنى الالم معنى الغضب لأول مرة، معنى الفناء، معنى العدم، معنى الخواء، معنى ان تفقد كل شئ لأجل لا شئ.. معنى أن تكون محبطاً حتى من نفسك، من يقينك انك قد عاينت احزان العالم في قلبك، استجواب ذرات الحقيقة الخافتة التي تنادي بك إلى العالم الفاني.. لم يكن غضباً بل حزناً دفيناً وكأنه كان يعلم أن الايام تخبئها له وهو على أرض طروادة.. أخيليوس تمزق هناك ومزق ماحوله..




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هذه الملحمة أستطيع أن أقول من أجمل ما قرأت وما سأقرأ حتى، تحفة أدبية مذهلة حقاً وهي تحكي تلك الأحداث بصورة مشوقة ساحرة عصية على الادراك أنها كلمات مجردة ،كأنها أستخرجت من بئر الجمال القابع في سحر هذا العالم كله.. مذهلة تبقى هذه الملحمة في مخليتي صعبة النسيان والتأليف مرة أخرى.... عاطفي تلقائي غريب ساحر بارع .. ليست مجاملة بل هي حقيقة، بل وقطرة ساكنة من بحر جمال هذه الرائعة الانسانية..



وأدرك تماماً أن لو اجتمع ممثلوا وفنانوا العالم على أن يجسدوا هذه الملحمة على أرض الواقع أو كلوحة أو لما استطاعوا إلى ذلك سبيلا..



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من الملاحظ عدد الشخصيات في الملحمة كبير جداً جداً لا يمكن حصرها ، أسماء كثيرة لمقاتلين وآلهة وأبطال معظمها تأتي كشخصيات هامشية لا وزن لها في عملية بناء الملحمة ،إن هي إلا مجرد ورقة يلقي بها هوميروس في صيحة الحرب فأما أن تتعرض للقتل مباشرة بعد ذكرها وهو غالباً مايحدث، أو أنها تتعرض للنسيان من قبل هوميروس وكما قال النقاد " أن هوميروس كان يغفو أحياناً أثناء تأليفه للملحمة " ، ومن الجدير بالذكر أن هناك شخصية تعرضت للقتل في بداية المعارك التي أشتعلت بين الطرواديين والدانائيين ثم ذُكر بعد ذلك وهو يقاتل ثانية في صيحة الحرب وللسوء حظه قُتل مجدداً .. ذلك ما يضفي في رأيي جواً من البراءة والغرابة في القصة وكأنها تجري خارج حدود الزمن.. ونصيحة لا تحفظ إلا أسماء الشخصيات الرئيسية في الملحمة وإلا سيختلط عليك الشخصيات ويصيبك نوع من الملل تجاه الكتاب، تابع دائماً ولا تهتم، جمال الملحمة في الاستمرارية ومواكبة جنون وحالات هذيان هوميروس..




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يكفي أن أقول أن الترجمة التي قرأتها لا توجد كلمات تصف مدى اتساقها وجمالها وأبداعها الادبي والذوق الرائع في إختيار المفردات والجمل وعمق حقيقي في الترجمة، المترجم أحمد عتمان ومعه عدد من المترجين الآخرين قضوا سنوات عدة ليخرجوا بهذه الطلة البهية الراقية، من أجمل الترجمات التي قرأتها، يستحق الثناء والتقدير والشكر لهذا المجهود الجبار الذي هو بالفعل تحفة لا يقدرها إلا أصحاب الذوق الأصيل في الأدب..



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ليست مراجعة هي تلك التي كتبتها، بل مجرد خواطر عن الكتاب راق لي أن أضيفها هنا..

I’m often kept up at night brooding on my troubles, wishing I could find some solace that would help me sleep. But now I know that the best way to keep insomnia at bay is to get out of bed, hitch up my chariot, tie the corpse of my mortal enemy to the back, and drive around for a few hours, dragging him, until I cheer up and can go back to sleep. The Iliad is unmatched, in my reading, for works that describe the bloody, ridiculous, selfish lengths people will go in order to feel better. The sticks and stones fly (and gouge out eyes, smash skulls, slash livers and veins until the blood sprays–this poem is definitely not for the squeamish), but the real weapons of the Trojan War are name-calling, cheating at games, and stealing your best buddy’s girlfriend or mixing bowl or ox. Most of the action occurs when somebody gets his feelings hurt, the baddie won’t apologize, and the sensitive one throws a fit, which can involve letting all of his friends die while he gets an olive-oil massage, or else razing a city, raping the women, and joyriding over other men’s bones. The Iliad suggests that even at its most glorious, war can be advocated only by people with the emotional lives of spoiled four-year-olds....

For more thoughts, see my post:
http://alisonkinney.com/2015/07/23/ho...

When I was just 2 years old, my grandmother sent me (from Utah to Central Canada), an LP of Prokofiev - against a storytime backdrop of The Trojan Horse - from the Iliad.

The Trojan Horse comes at the conclusion of Homer's epic.

Everyone knows the Iliad. And everyone talks about it here. But here, I only want to discuss one forgotten element of it. An element ESSENTIAL to constructing a valid modern worldview - for EACH of us.

I always avoided applying this element to my daily life. But I was wrong - so wrong.

Rei Pasa! Those two words sum it all up.

They were written by a Greek gentleman who was roughly the contemporary of Homer - Heraclitus, the ancient pre-Socratic philosopher.

Rei pasa - everything changes.

Inevitably.

As Heraclitus explains elsewhere, “You can’t step into the same river twice!” EVERYTHING is in movement.

So it is with Homer. In this epic, everything takes place In Medias Res - right, smack dab in the middle of the chaos of everyday life.

That’s where we all start in our OWN lives. And finish.

And that’s the ONLY place we’ll ever find Peace.

Now, that seems odd, doesn’t it?

And it seemed that way for me, too...

Back in 1985 I was harried to the Max by my new furiously high-powered career. I couldn’t find any place of peace in my life. That’s the year I started to find solace in Eastern philosophy and New Age Music.

Hey, with this stuff you could get blissed-out in no time! So I weakly thought.

But then the frenetic pace of the workplace sped up. And kept accelerating - all the way to retirement. I felt trapped.

By 1999 I was burning out. I was frazzled. Fried. But on an April day exactly twenty years ago I realized I had no choice but to let it all go - and give it to God.

That was Lev Chestov's response to the aporia of all Milennials, too: the impossible Leap of Faith.

So THAT was when I really knew what In Medias Res REALLY meant.

It’s not OUR world. It’s His! Let Him do what He wants for a change - and sit back for the RIDE OF YOUR LIFE.

You’ll never experience the eternal mutability of life until you get to that point.

There’s just NO WAY - because otherwise YOU, solid, ‘unchanging’ you, are always center stage!

You have to let it go - and give it away.

Just like Achilles loses it - and becomes his Fate.

And that’s why Homer is so colossal.

There’s just no other way to peace -

At the Eye of the Storm!

At my college graduation, the speaker was a gruff professor. He was one of those older men whom people somewhat patronizingly describe as a teddy bear to convey the idea that while he looks like Santa Claus, they wouldn’t be surprised to see him arraigned on assault charges at the local courthouse. I liked this professor in general, and his graduation speech was a grand: warm congratulations on a crisp early-summer day. He decided to inform us, however, that anyone who had not read The Iliad and The Odyssey should not be graduating from college. I was one of those lucky (lucky?) folks, like an illiterate kid graduating from high school.

I decided to rectify the situation as soon as possible, and I spent an indefinite number of hours in the next few, sunny weeks laying in a hammock on my porch, the boy I loved commiserating with me about this wonderful book. It is a warm, sharp memory. That was mumble mumble years ago, and this summer, I thought that since I just graduated again, I would read it again. It was a good choice. Warm, summer days in the hammock with limb-chopping, flashing helms, and mountain goats rushing down the hillside.

I can’t find this quote I’m thinking of, but I’m pretty sure it’s from Beowulf, and it goes something like, “Brave men should seek fame in foreign lands.” Google does not think that quote exists, so maybe I dreamed it, which is really neither here nor there, but kind of weird. Something about that quote, about this book, and about the way this book reminds me of that quote, makes my blood beat close to my skin. I get this feeling that my heart grows too big for my ribs, and my eyeballs get tight, as though I’m going to cry. But, my heart doesn’t pound, and no tears come.

That is how this book feels to me.

This story is about what Homer doesn’t describe as much as what he does, and reading it evokes some kind of mirroring response from my body. The Iliad is the almost-death of Achilles, the almost-destruction of Troy, and reading it is an almost-panic-attack, an almost-sob. It is the absent top step in a flight of stairs. But, oh man, that flight of stairs. How do you even make that?

It’s not possible to spoil this story because Homer is always one step ahead, tripping you up about what story he’s telling. So, just because I think it’s fun (and, also because it seems kind of absurd to write a “review” of The Iliad, so I’m wandering in the dark here), I’m going to give a brief summary:

This story is about a bunch of guys fighting over some women fleshlights and jewelry. Mostly the women fleshlights. Everyone’s been at this war for nine years (sidebar: weirdly, when I read that it was nine years, I thought, “NINE YEARS? WHO WOULD FIGHT A WAR FOR THAT LONG? Oh, wait . . . .”). As you probably know, the war initially started because Paris, a Trojan, stole Helen, who was the iPhone 5 of fleshlights, from Menelaus, an Argive. The Argives are at their ships; the Trojans are in Ilium, behind the city walls. There’s lots of blood and guts and pillaging throughout.

This story, Homer clearly tells us, is about Paris and Helen’s betrayal of Menelaus, and it is about the death of Achilles. The story opens with Agamemnon, the king of the Argives, having stolen a fancy new fleshlight from Achilles, who is a child of a water nymph. Achilles refuses to continue fighting if Agamemnon is going to take his fleshlight. Then, Achilles has this beautiful, beautiful moment where he questions the very nature of fighting over fleshlights. We are all pawns in the petty squabbles of the gods.

The gods are easily my favorite parts of this story, though it is not really about them in a certain way. It is not really about them in the way that any discussion of a god is not really about the god. On the one hand, it is about how our lives are just pawns in this squabbling, incestuous, eternal Thanksgiving dinner in the sky. On the other hand, it is still about the pawns. The gods are compelling on their own, but my heart tries to escape my chest not because of their story, but because, yes, humans do live and die by some kind of petty lottery run by a rapist married to his sister. Yes. And maybe there is someone bold and wonderful in the sky, like the grey-eyed Athena, but we still live and die by the thunder of a maniacal drunk uncle. Yes, that seems true.

So, in the midst of the chopping of limbs, the shatteringly beautiful similes, death after death, and the machinations of the dysfunctional immortal family, this story is about the betrayal of Menelaus and the death of Achilles. The thing that is absolutely, hands-down the most insane about this story to me is that those two events are deeply vivid in my mind in connection to this book, but neither of them actually happens here. How is that possible?! How do you plant enough seeds about an event in a reader’s mind that when she closes a book, those seeds grow into whole, robust images about the event? My blood does that thing where it tries to get out of my skin just from thinking about that. I can picture Achilles's death so vividly, picture lying in that hammock and reading it after I graduated from college, but that never happened. Homer just planted the seeds of his death in my brain, and they grew from my constant pondering over them. Helen and Paris sailing away grew in my mind through Helen’s beautiful regrets.

This is a story that I could think about for days: Helen’s mourning, like the women I’ve seen apologize for causing their husbands’ abuse (no, you didn’t cause this); war, and the futility of killing each other, as though we are controlled by the Kardashians of the sky. What causes violence? We say women cause violence because they push our buttons, so we’re driven to maim and kill because of the betrayals and button pushing. We say that something eternal, God or the gods, cause violence because they control our fate, they appear to us as birds and as wisdom and lead us on our night-blind path of life, but they lead us erratically: drunk, hysterical drivers and us with no seat belt, so we grasp for mere survival. Homer describes those motivations for violence so beautifully.

But, ultimately I think that is all bullshit, and I think the bullshitness of it is there in this story, too. It is there in Achilles challenging Agamemnon. It is there in Achilles mourning Patroclus. Oh, Patroclus, about whom I haven’t even freaked in this review. What a shame. Anyway, though, people are not violent because we were betrayed or because of supernatural trickery. Our violence is ours; it is our choice and our responsibility. Life is barbarous and cruel around us, but that is its nature, and we can only shape ourselves through and around it. When we expect life to be gentle and obedient, we are usually doing nothing more than justifying our own cruelty. I don’t think there is an answer to any of this in The Iliad, but it is beautifully told in both the positive and negative space. It is blood-poundingly, eye-achingly told. As my professor said, everyone should read this, and if you can read it in the sun, lying in a hammock after your graduation, all the better.

The Iliad; "a poem about Ilium (Troy)" is one of two major ancient Greek epic poems attributed to Homer. As with the Odyssey, the poem is divided into 24 books and was written in dactylic hexameter. It contains 15,693 lines in its most widely accepted version. Set towards the end of the Trojan War, a ten-year siege of the city of Troy by a coalition of Mycenaean Greek states, the poem depicts significant events in the siege's final weeks. In particular, the fierce quarrel between King Agamemnon and the celebrated warrior, Achilles.

There are two human beings in the poem who are godlike, Achilles and Helen. Helen, the "cause" of the war, is a sort of human Aphrodite. She is irresistible. Every king in Greece was ready to fight for her hand in marriage, but she chose Menelaus, King of Sparta. When Paris, the Prince of Troy, came to visit, she ran off with him [or was abducted by him, depending on how one interprets the story], leaving husband and daughter, without a thought of the consequences for others. When she left with Paris she acted like a god, with no thought of anything but the fulfilment of her own desire. However, at the beginning of the Iliad, she has already recognised her flaws. She feels responsible for the human misery she sees all around her, something the gods never do. The gods feel no responsibility for the human victims of their private wars.

At the beginning of the Iliad Helen has already broken out of the prison of self-absorption, but this is the point at which Achilles enters it. The Iliad shows the origin, course and consequences of his rage, his imprisonment in a godlike, lonely, heroic fury from which all the rest of the world is excluded, and also his return to human stature. The road to this final release is long and grim, strewn with the corpses of many a Greek and Trojan, and it leads finally to his own death.

Achilles plays no part in the events described in Books 2 through 8; he sits by his ships on the shore, waiting for the fulfilment of his mother's promise. And by the end of Book 8, the supplication of Thetis and the will of Zeus have begun to produce results. The Greeks are in retreat, penned up in their hastily fortified camp at nightfall, awaiting the Trojan assault, which will come with daybreak. And Agamemnon yields to Nestor's advice to send an embassy to Achilles, urging him to return to the battle line. It is a magnificent offer, but there is one thing missing: Agamemnon offers no apology, no admission that he was in the wrong. Therefore, Achilles rejects this embassy and any other that may be sent. He vows to sail home the next day, with all his men.

Due to a string of events [mainly the death of his beloved fellow warrior Patroclus at the hands of Hector, Prince of Troy], Achilles decides to join the war after all. When he does go into battle, the Trojans turn and run for the gates; only Hector remains outside. And the two champions come face-to-face at last. The contrast between the raw, self-absorbed fury of Achilles and the civilised responsibility and restraint of Hector is maintained to the end. It is of his people, the Trojans, that Hector is thinking as he throws his spear at Achilles: “How much lighter the war would be for Trojans then / if you, their greatest scourge, were dead and gone!”

But it is Hector who dies, and as Achilles exults over his fallen enemy, his words bring home again the fact that he is fighting for himself alone; this is the satisfaction of a personal hatred. He taunts Hector with the fate of his body. And in answer to Hector's plea and offer of ransom for his corpse, he reveals the extreme inhuman hatred and fury he has reached: “Beg no more, you fawning dog – begging me by my parents! / Would to god my rage, my fury would drive me now / to hack your flesh away and eat you raw –” This is how the gods hate. His words recall those of Zeus to Hera in Book 4: “Only if you could breach / their gates and their long walls and devour Priam”.

Achilles lashes Hector's body to his chariot, and, in full view of the Trojans on the walls, drags it to his tent, where he organises a magnificent funeral for Patroclus. All through the funeral games he acts with a tact, diplomacy and generosity that seem to signal the end of his desperate isolation, his godlike self-absorption; we almost forget that Hector's corpse is still lying in the dust, tied to his chariot, and that Achilles refuses the will of Zeus, refuses to surrender Hector's body to his father Priam.

Only when Priam himself visits Achilles in his tent and kisses his hand does Achilles break out at last from the prison of self-absorbed, godlike passion. Achilles takes Priam's hands and begins to weep. But not for Priam but for his own aged father, to whose memory Priam had appealed and who will soon, like Priam, lose a son.

Achilles goes to collect the ransom, and when he orders Hector's body to be washed and anointed, he gives orders to have it done out of Priam's sight: “He feared that, overwhelmed by the sight of Hector, / wild with grief, Priam might let his anger flare / and Achilles might fly into fresh rage himself, / cut the old man down …” He knows himself. This is a new Achilles, who can feel pity for others. For the first time he shows self-knowledge and acts to prevent the calamity his violent temper might bring about. It is as near to self-criticism as he ever gets, but it marks the point at which he ceases to be godlike Achilles and becomes a human being in the full sense of the word.

The tragic course of Achilles' rage, his final recognition of human values – this is the guiding theme of the poem, and it is developed against a background of violence and death. But the grim progress of the war is interrupted by scenes which remind us that the brutality of war is not the whole of it. Except for Achilles, whose worship of violence falters only in the final moment of pity for Priam, the yearning for peace and its creative possibilities is never far below the surface of the warriors' minds. This is most poignantly expressed by the scenes that take place in Troy, especially the farewell scene between Hector and Andromache. (<3) But it is not enough. The Iliad remains a terrifying poem. Achilles, just before his death, is redeemed as a human being, but there is no consolation for the death of Hector. We are left with a sense of waste, which is not adequately balanced even by the greatness of the heroic figures and the action; the scale descends towards loss. The Iliad remains not only the greatest epic poem in literature but also the most tragic.

The death of Hector seals the fate of Troy; it will fall to the Achaeans, to become the pattern for all time of the death of a city. The images of that night assault – the blazing palaces, the blood running in the streets, old Priam butchered at the altar, Cassandra raped in the temple, Hector's baby son thrown from the battlements, his wife Andromache dragged off to slavery – all this, foreshadowed in the Iliad, will be stamped indelibly on the consciousness of the Greeks throughout their history, immortalised in lyric poetry, in tragedy, on temple pediments and painted vases, to reinforce the stern lesson of Homer's presentation of war: that no civilisation, no matter how rich, no matter how refined, can long survive once it loses the power to meet force with equal or superior force.