I first read Homer in the 19th-century French translation by Leconte de Lisle — the equivalent, say, of the 18th-century translation into English by Alexander Pope: a pompous, archaic and exhausting bore of a book. I kept my chin up and, after a while, tried another inflated Frenchman: the 1955 translation by the curly-moustached Victor Bérard (in the prestigious Pléiade edition, with an odd arrangement of chapters). A bit less depraved than the Parnassian poet, but all in all (alack!) not much better. Only last year came this new English translation by Emily Wilson, an American academic and allegedly the first woman to translate Homer into English. And it is a damned refreshing take on Homer! Basically, it’s the first time I’m reading The Odyssey without dozing off on every other page.

Yet, Wilson laid down a daunting challenge to herself: to keep the same number of verses as in Homer’s epic and transpose the Greek’s dactylic hexameters into the traditional (Shakespearian) iambic pentameter. An amazing feat indeed, and she pulled it off with ease, concealing, like an expert weaver, the technicalities of her achievement and dodging some of the ponderousness of the Homeric text (not least of which: the grinding epithets attached to each character or some awkward similes that pop up from time to time): the result is an unaffected, luminous poem, sometimes energetic, sometimes delicate, that flows effortlessly, focusing our attention not on some turgid, embalming, purple prose, but on what is actually at stake in the story, and on the beat of the tale.

A few things become glaringly apparent thanks to this new translation: Odysseus is not quite the wise and glorious war hero that we might think. As Wilson states in her opening verse, he is “a complicated man” (πολuτροπον), who messes around with everyone he encounters and talks rubbish on every occasion; in short: he is an inveterate liar. So much so that, in the end, he could easily qualify as the first case of “unreliable narrator”. Most notably, when he is invited to the court of Alcinous and tells the story of his misadventures after the Trojan War — the famous embedded and somewhat fantastical tale (books 9-12) of the Cicones, Lotus-Eaters, Cyclopes, Aeolus, Laestrygonians, Circe, Helios, the dead, the Sirens, Charybdis and Scylla and Calypso —, we cannot help but wonder to what extent Odysseus is making up all this, to entertain his generous hosts. Later on, Odysseus will tell a completely different account of his adventures to other people, or a strongly expurgated version of the first tale to his own wife, misrepresenting himself to her. In short, he is indeed a consummated storyteller — a shining mask for the rhapsodist himself?

If The Iliad is the grandfather of pretty much all literature, then The Odyssey is the grandmother: Aeneas, Sindbad, Gulliver, Robinson, Pym, Ahab, Nemo, Marlow are all descendants of Odysseus; Hamlet is a sort of echo of Telemachus; Excalibur is an ersatz of Odysseus’ mighty bow; James Joyce’s Dublin is a Homeric town. We might wonder, however, why Odysseus’ adventures have become such a significant source of inspiration for writers and scholars who claim to be feminists, like Emily Wilson, of course, but also recently Madeline Miller, with her best-seller Circe, and a few years ago, Margaret Atwood and her Penelopiad.

Clearly, most characters in The Odyssey express a form of mistrust towards the opposite sex: men believe women to be either nosy sluts or demi-hags; women would rather turn men into pigs or captives than actually deal with them. Even the fair queen Penelope — the only character on the level and the antithesis of the treacherous and fiendish Clytemnestra — is actually just as deceptive, weaving and unweaving her crewelwork to avoid standing up to the wolfish suitors. That being said, let’s save the old nanny Eurycleia, if you insist... But, after all, isn’t this gender suspiciousness at the heart of feminism? It is notable, by the way, that although Odysseus looks like the paragon of manliness and a confirmed skirt-chaser (Penelope, Circe, Calypso, Nausicaa), the fact of the matter is that he is either the punchbag of Poseidon (a male god) or a puppet in the hands of the goddess Athena (a female), who transforms him at will, stultifies his enemies and makes him the pin-up of every girl he encounters. I will confess: in this old tale, men are, at best, a bit ridiculous and irritating — if not “complicated”.

To top it all off, the Odyssey is, at its heart, a tale of extreme violence. I’m not just thinking of the savagery of Polyphemus, the Laestrygonians or Scylla, all blood-thirsty monsters who decimate Odysseus’ crewmen. I’m thinking of Odysseus himself, probably the most blood-thirsty character in the whole poem. In fact, instead of coming back home as the one true king of Ithaca and properly claim back his throne and wife in a straightforward manner, he chooses (or instead follows Athena’s plan) to approach the suitors under the guise of a despicable old beggar, puts the devil in them — curses, insults and stools fly back and forth across the saloon on every page — and, when the time is ripe, gets into a shooting spree, slaughters the suitors pitilessly one by one (they are a bunch of more than a hundred dudes!), and tortures atrociously whoever, herdsmen or slave girls alike, got mixed up with them. The Odyssey ends with a big spring cleaning in a merry bath of haemoglobin... Which begs a nagging question: seeing how he behaves, might Odysseus himself not have killed his crew at sea (perhaps to gobble them up, since he is such a gourmand of meatballs and shish kebabs?), and later on told all sorts of baloney about cyclops and shipwrecks to justify his situation?... Anyway, had Homer been working in Hollywood instead of Ancient Greece, he would indeed be on the same side as Peckinpah, Coppola, Scorsese and Tarantino!

And now, let’s wait for Emily Wilson to work her magic on The Iliad…

It's impossible not to smile when you start reading such a classic and, after only the first few pages, you realize and completely understand why it's regarded as one of the most important works in literature. I'm always a little anxious when I tackle such important and renowned books for being afraid of not comprehending or loving them - War and Peace and Don Quixote, for example - as they seem to deserve. Not that I'm obligated to like them, but I always feel such buzz comes for a reason and I try to at least find out why. With The Odyssey, once again, I find that the ones who have read it before me were right: it's amazing.

I didn't have plans to read The Odyssey any time soon - I've never devoted much time to epic poems and this one has more than 12,000 verses -, but because I've been eying Ulysses on my shelves for quite some time, I decided to prepare myself for it and read about Odysseus with a great group here on Goodreads. To call Homer's book simply "a preparation" for Joyce's work is now not only unfair, but also absurd to me. However, I'm glad that I finally read it, whatever the reason behind it was.

The Odyssey tells the story of Odysseus's (Ulysses) journey back to his home Ithaca to return to his wife Penelope and son Telemachus after twenty years of absence. Our hero left his home to fight in the Trojan War - that alone lasted ten years - and encountered too many obstacles that kept him away for another ten years. Back in Ithaca, people had already lost hope that he could still be alive and his wife was being courted by suitors who wanted to marry her.

Alongside the emotional and heartfelt story, what grabbed my attention here was the poem's style and structure. For a work that's believed to have been written in the 8th century BC, its quality and refinement certainly amazed me. Some of the story is told through flashbacks, some of it is told through different narrators and its narratives are non-linear, so I was positively surprised.

I could try to write an analysis about the recurring themes on the book - vengeance, spiritual growth, hospitality - or try to decipher its symbolism - much has been written about Odysseus's bow, Laertes's shroud, the sea -, but I feel I would fail and wouldn't be able to do it in a deep level, especially after having read the great introduction and notes written by Bernard Knox.

What kept me away from Homer's work was the fear that it would be too dense and heavy on mythology - it is mythological, of course -, making it hard for me to understand it. Although labored, the narrative is quite simple and easy to follow. Knox's notes were a great companion to fill in the details I needed to comprehend the book in a deeper level.

Rating: it's my belief that a great book not only satisfy your expectations, but also inspire you to delve further into its writer's other works, similar subjects or even other books from the same time period. The Odyssey raised my interest about Greek mythology and The Iliad, so I guess it served its purpose with high colors. Because of that, 5 glowing and beautiful stars.

I knew the plot points of The Odyssey long before I read it. I knew the legendary names, the serial perils, the island-hopping adventures and Odysseus's ever-dwindling crew. And I knew about the shocking climax; the slaughter of the suitors, the violent capstone for the tale that defined danger and adventure in the western tradition. I thought I knew this vaunted tale, but having finally read it, it turns out I barely knew the focus of the book at all.
t
Because I always thought the sea adventures were the center stage; the prison of the cyclops cave, the deadly allure of the sirens, Circe and her transforming magic, the twin dooms of Scylla and Charybdis. I assumed the story was dominated by these memorable trials.
t
But it isn't; I estimate that series of Mediterranean perils accounts for less than one-third of the text. Some of these episodes are so brief (like the sirens and Scylla/Charybdis) I suffered a double take wondering if I'd missed something.
t
I'd also always assumed the slaughter of the suitors came as something of a shock; that the reader had little reason to expect such a violent finish. But that climax is heavily foreshadowed; Odysseus's loyal family and servants often say things like 'I wish Odysseus were here, he'd kill these jerks.' We spend far more time with Penelope, Telemachus and the greedy group exploiting them than I suspected; the primary setting is Odysseus's estate, not his ship.
t
This proves that even the most influential stories still have the capacity to surprise; especially if you've put off reading them for so long because you assume you know the whole tale.

College Reading.

What amazes me about stories like this is how long it has been around. There are hundreds of generations who have read this and passed it down. This story has been around for thousands of years. To me, that is mind blowing. Truly.

I recently read 'Circe' that is taken from The Odyssey and The Iliad. The story has influenced much of literature in some way. This is the ultimate quest story.

I still have a hard time understanding a journey for 10 years. How your family would miss you. Cyclops, witches, Sirens, and more come from this story. I hope to re-read it some day.

The Journey Of The West

Homer's Odyssey is the prototypical "journey" of Western literature. The epic tells of the wanderings of the Greek hero Odysseus, King of Ithaca. Odysseus spent ten years with the Greeks at Troy (he is an important character in Homer's Iliad) and devised the strategem of the Trojan Horse which led to the fall of Troy. Following the fall of Troy, Odysseus wandered for ten years before his return to Ithaca. The Odyssey celebrates his trials during this long period and his ultimate vindication upon his return to Ithaca.

The Odyssey differs in tone and content from the Iliad. Simone Weil, a mid-20th century French writer, described the Iliad as the work of Western literature which best explored the use and limitations of force. Battle scenes, death, and the human cost and folly of war are realistically if heroically described. The Odyssey is more in the nature of romance. It surely has moments of grandeur and heroism, but its story is in the telling and in the journeying and in the adventures of Odysseus along the way.

The tale of the Iliad, and of Achilles' wrath, involves only a few days in the Trojan War and the poet of the Iliad recounts his story in a forward-moving chronology. The story is focused in that the main action takes place entirely in Troy and its environs. The Odyssey is much more diffuse, covering as it does the wanderings of Odysseus for ten years. The scene shifts frequently and the story is told with flashbacks and shifting tenses and locations. The bulk of the action (the last 12 books of the epic) occur in Ithaca after Odysseus returns home. These books are recounted in the voice of the poet. (Homer) The first four books of the Odyssey recount a smaller-scale journey of Telemachus, Odysseus's son, as he searches for news of his father and tries to avoid death at the hands of the suitors of Penelope who are plaguing Ithaca and plundering Odysseus's estate. (In addition, many of the women servants are having affairs with the suitors.) The middle section of the book deals with Odysseus's adventures, with mythical characters such as the Cyclops, Scylla and Charibdis, the rock-throwing Laestroginians, the Lotus eaters, the sirens, and many others. We learn of Odysseus's long but ultimately unsatisfactory dalliances with Circe and with Callypso and his perseverance in returning home.

The most striking element of the poem for me was Book 11 which chronicles Odysseus's journey to Hades and which teaches him that human life is precious and irreplaceable for all its pain and suffering. Much of the middle section of the book is told as a flashback with Odysseus speaking in his own voice. There is much in the Odyssey (unlike the Iliad) about the nature and function of epic poetry and about its performance.

The Odyssey concludes with Odysseus' slaughter of the many suitors of his faithful wife Penelope and with his reuniting with his wife, aged father Laertes and son Telemachus. Odysseus is a wily, much-battered, and cunning hero. But in his perseverance and strength, he is a hero nonetheless.

The Odyssey is a much-translated work. I found this translation by Robert Fagles helped me get into and involved with the poem. The translation is in a modern American free verse idiom which to me lets the poem speak and does not call attention to itself as a translation. For a work such as the Odyssey, I think that if the translation moves and the reader is drawn into the work, the translator is doing a good job. By this test, the translation is outstanding.

There is an excellent introduction by Bernard Knox which introduces the reader to the scholarly issues surrounding the composition of the Odyssey and the Iliad and which discusses as well the major themes of the poem.

The Odyssey and the Iliad are works to be read and reread at many stages of life. They should probably be explored in several translations for those, (most readers) who don't read the original Greek. This is a stirring epic poem of what has become the journey of the West.

Robin Friedman

Quite possibly one of my favourite books!
It was this novel that ignited my love for Greek and Roman mythology and antiquity - leading me to choose a degree in Classical Civilisations.
I always look back on The Odyssey with fondness - I love all the monsters he faces and the gods who involve themselves with Odysseus' trials as he makes his way home after the Trojan War.
LOVE LOVE LOVE.

I have no idea how to review this book which has been discussed by millions of others over the past almost 3000 years. So I plan to keep this brief. This was so enjoyable! I found Knox's introduction very helpful and Fagles' translation smooth and very much a pleasure to read. Some of the descriptions were simply beautiful (I'm remembering Calypso"s cave), emotional (the reunions with family), powerful (the battles with the suitors, and eerie (the visit to The Underworld).

I recommend that everyone read it again if they haven't read it as an adult (and I don't count those college days!)

This was awesome - so much adventure, fun characters and the monsters were truly beastly. Loved it. Plus it was read by Ian Mckellan so that was a bonus.

i read this in school but i don't remember anything about it except the words "wine-dark sea" and that i hated it.

which seems like a good enough reason to reread it someday.

part of a series i'm doing in which i review books i read a long time ago, except in this case it's more of a to-read situation

Like a bolt of lightning striking a tree, The Iliad of Homer set my cranium alight when its sheer incantatory power first washed over me. It's an astonishing work, brutal and violent, while at the same time deeply affecting, brimming with incisive insights into human nature.


Odysseus and crew, having taken precautions to not be lured by the Sirens' song, sail past them.

Homer's subsequent epic poem I was less enraptured by because of its lack of focus, even though it is unquestionable that it represents a high-water mark in the Western canon; its qualities as a narrative - and influence - can't be overstated. Similar to Odysseus, I was fervently hoping for a homecoming of some kind ( in my case back in the hands of the master poet ) but the return gave credence to the age-old adage that you truly never can come home again. That first, visceral contact spoiled me, proved to be much too potent for The Odyssey ever to be able to compete with.


Odysseus reveals himself and deals with the suitors.

Do I love it? No, but I coldly admire it from a distance, and as such hold it in great respect. More than likely I'll never get to a point of "intimacy" with it, in a manner of speaking.

Expansive reviews of this and The Iliad of Homer will probably follow in the future, when I decide on re-reading them, probably in different translations from the Richmond Lattimore one (which I highly recommend, especially for the latter).

Αντί κριτικής, κάποιες σκέψεις…

Ο ώριμος αναγνώστης που θα καταλήξει εδώ πίσω, στη μυθική χώρα του Ομήρου, έχει διαβεί σύνορα πολλών εθνών, έχει σκορπίσει σπάταλα τον χρόνο του, έχει αναλωθεί σε απολαύσεις πνευματικές συχνά υποδεέστερες. Κι όμως τα βήματα τον οδηγούν τελικά εδώ, μακρύτερα από τις αρχικές προσδοκίες του, καθώς το ταξίδι του είχε ξεκάθαρη έναρξη, μα αόριστο τέλος.

Ξεκινώντας, γνώριζε -η φήμη της μεγάλη- την ύπαρξη της λαμπρής ετούτης χώρας, της οποίας το αρχαίο κλέος ευωδίαζε στη μνήμη των ανθρώπων ανά τους αιώνες.

Κι όμως, ο νέος αναγνώστης απέφευγε όσο μπορούσε -συνειδητά, ασυνείδητα- την προσέγγιση. Άλλες χώρες τον καλούσαν. Με πρωτεύουσες λαμπερές, στολισμένες με τη βεβαιότητα του συγκαιρινού, τη σιγουριά του εν ενεργεία, ευεπίφορες στην ορμή τού νεοφώτιστου. Πώς να αντισταθεί; Πώς να αρνηθεί τη γοητεία τους;

«Καιρός παντί πράγματι», αναφέρει ο Εκκλησιαστής: οι χώρες διαδέχονται η μία την άλλη, απαστράπτουσες και φιλόξενες. Την ίδια στιγμή, ο ολοένα και πιο υποψιασμένος περιηγητής στον κόσμο της γνώσης, με απορία και έκπληξη αρχίζει να αναγνωρίζει κοινούς τόπους, επαναλαμβανόμενα μοτίβα. Το οικείο καθίσταται κουραστικό, το πνεύμα αναζητά το καινό πλην όμως ολοένα και πιο επιλεκτικά.

Το επόμενο βήμα θα είναι καθοριστικό. Εμπρός ξανά σε μία ακόμα χώρα λαμπερή και, εν πολλοίς, γνωστή; Ή πίσω, στη ζώσα ανάμνηση της ομηρικής χώρας του νόστου, όπου λένε ότι όλα ξεκίνησαν μα κι εκεί καταλήγουν; Η αντίστροφη πορεία έχει ξεκινήσει και η Ιθάκη αναμένει τους τολμηρούς που την αναζητούν.

Και τα βήματα οδηγούν αναπόφευκτα στη Βασιλεύουσα του πνεύματος. Οι πύλες ορθάνοιχτες, η χώρα τόσο οικεία, τόσο μεστή, τόσο προσιτή. Το έμπειρο πλέον μάτι του περιηγητή αναγνωρίζει εκεί όλα όσα απόλαυσε στις χώρες της νιότης του. Όλα εκείνα που έπρεπε να δει και να μάθει ώστε να είναι επιτέλους έτοιμος (ως θαρραλέος) γι’ αυτή τη χώρα, γι’ αυτή την πόλη, γι’ αυτούς τους δρόμους, γι’ αυτό το μεγαλείο.

Όσα ο περιηγητής θεωρούσε, μέχρι πρότινος, εξέχοντα, λαμπερά και πρωτότυπα στα ταξίδια της πρώτης νιότης του, τα συναντά ξανά εδώ, αλλά για πρώτη φορά τα παρατηρεί, τα αφουγκράζεται, τα ψηλαφεί: λέξεις, χρώματα, αισθήσεις, οράματα…

Κατανοεί επιτέλους πως ό,τι αλλού υπήρξε λειψό και παροδικό, εδώ υφίσταται πλήρες και ατέρμονο.

Αγαλλιάται η καρδία, ευφραίνεται το πνεύμα. Ο νόστος ολοκληρώθηκε. Έχοντας πλέον φτάσει στην πηγή, ο περιηγητής σκύβει να ξεδιψάσει, μέλποντας τους στίχους εκείνους που εξέθρεψαν γενιές ταξιδιωτών πριν, τώρα, μετά -όσο υπάρχουν άνθρωποι: «Τον άντρα τον πολύτροπο πες μου, θεά, που χρόνια παράδερνε, σαν πάτησε της Τροίας τ’ άγιο κάστρο, κι ανθρώπων γνώρισε πολλών τους τόπους και τη γνώμη…»

https://fotiskblog.home.blog/2021/02/...

good. not as good as the iliad.

--

Reread in February 2018.

3 stars for the story itself, which I still find a lot less narratively and thematically compelling than the Iliad.

5 stars for Emily Wilson's masterful and engaging translation, which astounded me for several reasons, including but not limited to: translating that rose-fingered Dawn line differently every single time; rendering the entire poem in iambic pentameter (which was not the meter of the original, but since dactylic hexameter isn't really a thing in English, the iambic pentameter serves to structure the verse into a musical rhythm); eradicating a lot of the misogynistic language that has been used up until now by contemporary male translators, but which was not present in the original Greek. If you haven't read the Odyssey, this is the translation you should read, and if you have, it's worth revisiting to experience the skill and artistry of Wilson's translation.