Oh no, I didn’t! Did I just give Homer’s Odyssey 3 stars?! (Well, 3.5 really) What gall! Who the hell do I think I am?! Believe me, I am as shocked as you are. I thought I would end up liking this much more than its twin The Iliad, but the opposite turned out to be the case. Don’t get me wrong, Homer’s a great writer…he’s got a real future in the industry! (I kid, I kid) But seriously, while the Odyssey certainly contains more down to earth concerns than the vast epic of blood, guts and glory that was the Iliad, I just didn’t find it quite as compelling. As a literary artifact and founding work in the Western canon this is probably a five star book, but for me personally and my own enjoyment of it, it was still just a 3.5.

I think part of this may stem from my misapprehension that The Odyssey was primarily about the adventures and travels of Odysseus on his way home from Troy. While those aspects are certainly here, they took up a much smaller proportion of the book than I thought they would. The lion’s share seems more devoted to the travails that Odysseus encounters when he does finally get home to Ithaca and has to approach his own wife and home incognito due to the presence of dozens of overzealous, greedy suitors who are bleeding his estates dry with high living as they wait for his wife Penelope to make a decision on which of them she will marry. There were also some interludes with Telemachus, Odysseus’ son, and his foray into the wider world in search of his lost father. To be frank I found Telemachus a little less interesting than his dad. The picture we get of Greek domestic life and traditions of hospitality & obligation in these segments of the poem are certainly interesting, but I think I was just hoping for a bit more adventure and a little less skulking and planning as Odysseus attempts to sound out everyone around him and gain the lay of the land. It certainly spells out why Odysseus is the “man of twists and turns”, but I found it a little less compelling.

Overall there’s still a lot of great stuff going on here. The catalogue of the travails Odysseus must overcome to finally make it home after the Trojan War are probably known by everyone even if you haven’t read the Odyssey: you’ve got your adventure with the Cyclops, capture and seduction by not one, but two divine beauties (cry me a river Odysseus), the navigation between Scylla & Charybdis, the Siren’s song, a journey to the land of the dead, and an ill-conceived cattle raid on Apollo’s divine herd. For the most part these stories are related in the past tense by Odysseus himself while he’s on one of his layovers on the way to Ithaca.

I also enjoyed seeing the obvious links being made between the Odyssey and The Iliad as each built upon the other and each was augmented by the lustre and resonance of the other. I especially enjoyed seeing old friends (such as Nestor, Menelaus, and most importantly Helen) in a new context as they appear in their own domestic tableaux and give some laudatory commentary on Odysseus, primarily remembering the ‘good old days’ when they were sacking Troy. Also carried over from The Iliad was the chronic meddling of the gods in human affairs. This time, however, it’s mostly restricted to two divine puppeteers: Poseidon who has a raging hate-on for Odysseus and wants to see him sunk sooner than find his way home, and Athena who views the kingly trickster as the apple of her eye. The gods still seem, therefore, to have a vested interest in the doings of humanity, though just what they gain by this, especially when the life of only a single man, and not an entire nation, is at stake is open to question. It would appear that the pride of the immortals concerns itself with all levels of human affairs, from the epic to the domestic.

As noted above the preponderance of the text concerns itself with the actions of the suitors in Odysseus’ house and the plans and subterfuge our hero must undertake in order to return to his dearly remembered domestic bliss. Despite this we are given a scene that in its way is no less violent than many of the over the top battle scenes from the explicitly war-centred Iliad. The killing of the suitors may be somewhat toned down from the blood-drenched battles before the walls of Troy, but not by much. In this context I found it interesting how the spur to Odysseus’ actions, the ‘crimes’ of the suitors in their contravention of the rules of hospitality (in the spirit of what they do, if not the letter), while always spelled out explicitly and in no uncertain terms by the poet, still had a certain amount of ambiguity. Despite the fact that Odysseus is constantly presented as the wronged party it is apparent that he still feared the just retribution of the avenging furies of his victims. One wonders if Odysseus truly felt justified in his harsh actions against the suitors, or whether there was more than a little uncertainty in the justice of his actions on his part. Luckily for Odysseus his patroness Athena, through the auspices of Zeus, once again intervenes to save him from the consequences of his actions.

One of the most interesting aspects of the story for me was the return to the Underworld with the spirits of the suitors after they have been slain by Odysseus. There we once again meet with the shades of the heroes of The Iliad, namely Achilles, Ajax and Agamemnon, and are given their commentary, and commendation, on the actions of Odysseus and his wife despite the complaints of the suitors. I was also struck by the observation of Agamemnon regarding the ‘luck’ of Odysseus in both having a faithful wife to come home to (something of which he would obviously be envious), and in the fact that he views him as happy in that his death will be a quiet one in the arms of his loved ones. Indeed we are presented with three visions of death: Achilles is praised and envied by Agamemnon for having died a hero’s death on the plains of Ilium and having been celebrated by his comrades-in-arms, Odysseus is envied for making his way home and having the prospect of a quiet death surrounded by those he loves, and Agamemnon singles himself out for pity due to his treacherous and untimely death at the hands of his wife and her lover. Given the unambiguous way in which the Greek Underworld is the same (in both its characteristics of eternal boredom and regret over the loss of one’s life) for all of the dead I’m not sure I think it matters exactly how one died…even the ‘fortunate’ ones end up pining for the life they can no longer experience. I suppose, though, that it’s all about how you are remembered, and your death is the capstone to that. Both Achilles and Odysseus get an epic poem based on their actions and mode of death (even though those deaths do not occur in said poems),and while Agamemnon did get a play or two it was certainly not anything its audience would envy.

“It is generally understood that a modern-day book may honorably be based upon an older one, especially since, as Dr. Johnson observed, no man likes owing anything to his contemporaries. The repeated but irrelevant points of congruence between Joyce's Ulysses and Homer's Odyssey continue to attract (though I shall never understand why) the dazzled admiration of critics.” The Approach to Al-Mu'tasim by Jorge Luis Borges.
“The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.” Ecclesiastes 1:9.
Is The Odyssey where it all had begun? Or was it already based on the literary tradition? Whatever the answer is the number of allusions to The Odyssey in the world literature is impossible to count.
All starts here.
In this almost lifelong homecoming across seas, islands, dreams, visions and even the land of the dead there are no stops.

You will want no guide, raise your mast, set your white sails, sit quite still, and the North Wind will blow you there of itself. When your ship has traversed the waters of Oceanus, you will reach the fertile shore of Proserpine's country with its groves of tall poplars and willows that shed their fruit untimely; here beach your ship upon the shore of Oceanus, and go straight on to the dark abode of Hades. You will find it near the place where the rivers Pyriphlegethon and Cocytus (which is a branch of the river Styx) flow into Acheron, and you will see a rock near it, just where the two roaring rivers run into one another.
“When you have reached this spot, as I now tell you, dig a trench a cubit or so in length, breadth, and depth, and pour into it as a drink-offering to all the dead, first, honey mixed with milk, then wine, and in the third place water – sprinkling white barley meal over the whole. Moreover you must offer many prayers to the poor feeble ghosts, and promise them that when you get back to Ithaca you will sacrifice a barren heifer to them, the best you have, and will load the pyre with good things. More particularly you must promise that Teiresias shall have a black sheep all to himself, the finest in all your flocks.”

And all ends here.
It’s a circle…
“As the end approaches, there are no longer any images from memory – there are only words. It is not strange that time may have confused those that once portrayed me with those that were symbols of the fate of the person that accompanied me for so many centuries. I have been Homer; soon, like Ulysses, I shall be Nobody; soon, I shall be all men – I shall be dead.” The Immortal by Jorge Luis Borges.

5 ⭐

“… I would walk sail 500 [nautical] miles
and I would walk sail 500 more,
just to be the man who walked sailed a thousand [nautical] miles
to fall down slay the suitors at your door.”
- Odysseus the Proclaimer


I’ve been under the weather the last week or so, feeling about as upbeat as Uranus’ following his castration at the hands of his own Son Cronus; or as joyous as Pasiphae recovering her senses and grasping the full extent of her dalliance with the snow-white bull. Alas, I’m better now and am pleased to finally get a chance to “review” this beauty! In keeping with my self-enforced regulation on bringing an unparalleled level of sophistication and succinctness to my analyses of these illustrious cornerstones of Western Mythology, I’ll be covering the themes that stood out most prominently to me and strictly in the most intellectual and earnest fashion.


"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest!"
The Guest-Host Code of Conduct is a constant throughout Homer’s poem and, when compared to the state of modern hospitality, it becomes clear that we’ve lost our way; By the river Styx, woe be us, we have lost our way! Not once do I recall a host ever offering to have me bathed, rubbed down with oil and dressed in a fine robe when I've deigned to visit their abode. What has come of us?! Has Zeus, being the God this most concerns, lost his zeal for the divine enforcement of the etiquette of hospitality? For the love of the Gods, lather me! And forget not to bestow upon me a parting gift!
In general, a host is most likely to be at fault in the interaction between guest and host if they don’t properly cater to any wayward soul that stumbles upon their palace but the opposite can also be seen in the 108 suitors who, in attempting to court the absent Odysseus’ wife, Penelope, in a brutish, non-ritualistic manner, take advantage of their host’s hospitality, consuming their reserves of food and wine and ravishing their female servants.
If the domestic settings of Homer's epics are at all reflective of Ancient Greek society in the time they were written, there is an interesting parallel regarding ritual propriety and even, to a lesser degree, filial piety with Chinese culture in the time of Confucius, several hundred years later.


”The fame of her great virtue will never die.
The immortal gods will lift a song for all mankind,
A glorious song in praise of self-possessed Penelope” - Agamemnon
Loyalty and faithfulness, in all their forms are a big one and nobody embodies these more than Odysseus’ wife, Penelope, the soul of loyalty! (Besides maybe Argos, the loyal dog) Despite Odysseus advising her to wed the man she likes as soon as she sees hair on, their son, Telemachus’ face, she holds out for 20 years despite 108 oily degenerates attempting to court her when it is presumed Odysseus dies at Troy. What a woman! Gents, find yourself a Penelope! Ladies, if the men in this book are anything to go by, I’m afraid you’ll probably have to settle for a Pepé Le Pew.
It’s probably worth noting that Hesiod, Homer's contemporary, states, in his Theogony of the Gods, that Odysseus sired 4 children on his 10-year journey home; 2 with Calypso and 2 with Circe. So, while Penelope was faithfully waiting for him at home, he was gettin’ down with 2 Nymph Goddesses (that we know of)! Ok, I’m being a little flippant here; at least one of these was totally against his will *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*. One notices a distinct lack of detail when Odysseus recounts his adventures to his wife.


”When a man cries, it’s the last thing he wants to do… He will do anything but cry. He will stop himself crying no matter how tragic it is. And he would do everything, and only when he’s completely defeated emotionally will he start to cry properly.” - Michael Caine
Michael Caine obviously never read ‘The Odyssey’ ‘cos while resilience/perseverance are another major theme of ‘The Odyssey’, there is also A LOT of grown ass men crying! There’s nothing wrong with that and, in context, I should mention that Caine made that comment in an acting masterclass BUT these are battle-hardened soldiers who are returning home from a 10-year war and have absolutely no qualms raping and pillaging as they go. I hardly think they are the super-sentimental types. I’m not talking a tear trickling down the cheek either; we’re talking platoons of soldiers in a communal sob session, wailing, shrieking, going full Timberlake-cry-me-a-river at the slightest provocation! However, once the tears have abated, our characters always push on, particularly Odysseus and “what good can come of grief?” appears a recurring rhetorical query and the message appears to be, dust yourself off and carry on!


Odysseus is not a great guy really, but his determination and ability to will himself on in the face of great odds is endearing, regardless of his shortcomings. He is the hero of the story and held in high esteem for possessing many of the typical Homeric heroes attributes: Strength, bravery, godly physique, and also diplomacy, tactfulness, cunning and deceitfulness (also seen as a positive attribute). I couldn’t help having a bit of a chuckle when Odysseus and a small number of his crew are stuck in, the Cyclops, Polyphemus’ cave and trying to deduce a means of escape. Homer is really trying to drive home Odysseus’ cunning— ”My wits kept weaving, weaving cunning schemes… till this plan struck my mind as best” and then:
n  n
”Hey, hey, guys, GUYS! Hide yourselves beneath the sheep! Two sheep to a man; except me, I’ll take this large one. He’ll never see us! Oh, Gods be praised, I’m so cunning; a real clever sausage!”

Odysseus at his finest! A man endowed with the God’s own wisdom; foxy, ingenious!.... Anyone who thinks Homer didn’t have a sense of humour is kidding themselves.


Following a positive experience with Robert Fagles’ translation of ‘The Iliad’, I opted for the deluxe edition of his Odyssey translation for the ‘Penguin Classics’ line and, once again, I thought it was very readable. It’s a non-rhyming verse translation with varying line length. I think it succeeds in sounding traditional while also being absolutely accessible to the modern reader. Fagles mentions something along the lines of Homer’s works being quite fast paced and energetic and, without any knowledge of the original, it seems to me that he's succeeded in maintaining this high level of rapidity and excitement. There was only one example of, what I thought was, a poor translation when, at one point, Fagles uses the phrase ”cramping my style”. I’m being knit-picky but it doesn’t fit with the overall tone of the rest of the text and feels too modern. Bernard Knox’s introduction and notes are also, once again, fascinating and illuminating regarding the origins and the nature of the poem, particularly a discussion on the more prominent (read:existent) role of women in the Odyssey when compared with the sausage-fest that is the Iliad.


More than anything, for me, ‘The Odyssey’ is just a rollicking good adventure! If you’re perhaps someone who tried the Iliad and didn’t enjoy it (what is wrong with you?!) but really love Mythology retellings, you may very well still love this one which has an entirely different thematic focus and overall tone; less relentless war, more of combination of treachorous journey and domestic affair! I really can’t recommend it highly enough.
It's as glorious as the young dawn with her rose-red fingers!

"So Pallas spake, and breathed into his frame
Strength irresistible."

n  n


n  n


n  n

Why so powerful a narrative?

- is it the mythological world?
this tête-a-tête way of living
between
gods and men?

...the voyages?

the longing for Home ...?

UPDATE

This is sad.
https://blogs.spectator.co.uk/2020/02...

Homer’s The Odyssey is a story I frequently return to, but it’s been a while since I’ve read the whole book. I read works by Homer and Greek Myths to understand the stories in art works (by painters from Raphael, to Reubens to Pre-Raphaelites and later) better.

This translation is originally by E V Rieu (which decades later was updated by his son). I like it because the prose style means I don’t constantly need to look things up, where I can just enjoy reading the book as is. I also like tis translation because every time I read it, I take away a little bit more understanding of the many sub-plots and story details that would be easy to miss with modern eyes.

It starts with

Tell me, Muse of that resourceful man who was driven to wander far and wide after he had sacked the holy citadel of Troy.

In less than 15 words I have a clear picture of this story and what’s already happened. What follows is a touch dizzying with the mention of many characters, but the main conflict is clear: will Odysseus ever find his way back home?


Some of my favourite scenes are a mix of comedy and drama:

-tBook 4 – when Eurymachus, one of the suitors, discover that Odysseus’s son, Telemachus, has slipped out without them knowing to find out if his father is dead or alive. Worried, he and the other suitors plan to assassinate him.

-tBook 14 – the chat between Eumaeus and Odysseus. Odysseus, with Athena’s help, is guised as an old beggar but Eumaeus, his old faithful servant does not recognise him.

-tBook 23 – Penelope asks Odysseus to prove who he is. I also like the scene when Telemachus is keen to leave to get back home but Menelaus won’t stop talking.
There are moments in Homer’s The Odyssey that make this a difficult read, but it’s been a thrill to unpuzzle this story for myself.

Group read: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...

*warning: parentheses, italics, and spoilers abound* I think I’ve cleaned up the language, though. Mostly.

Not even Sir Ian McKellen could buy this another star.

Don’t get me wrong: he was terrific. I love him. It’s just that from now on if I say something like “I could listen to [so-and-so] read the phone book”, I will continue the sentence with “but NOT the Odyssey”. Also, sometime a little more than halfway through something went wonky with one of his recording sessions, and the speed of the read slooowwwed down. Just what I needed. Some parts were a bit muffled; the volume went up and down; maybe the production staff hated this as much as I did. The musical interludes dropped here and there throughout were strangely placed and jarring rather than adding any sort of dramatic flourish (they felt like a very earnest attempt at "really! It’s genuine Ancient Greek music! Honest!"); they didn’t divide sections of the story, but it seemed like they might have divided up those recording sessions. Which was just odd.

Also, don’t think I don’t respect the thing in the abstract. It’s a two-thousand-+-year-old thing, with a probable origin date in the BC’s – that’s tremendous. It’s impacted literature throughout that time – marvelous. I knew most of the bits of the story – Circe, Calypso, the sirens, the Cyclops, men into sheep, Scylla and Charybdis, the lotus-eaters, Penelope and the weaving, even O’s dog – and for the most part I’m glad I’ve now experienced the whole thing. I have already met up with two references to the thing in other books – and I just finished The Odyssey a couple of days ago.

But.

My God – er, gods – it was painful.

Part of it is, yes, laying a Christian 21st-century viewpoint over the thing, and being disgusted by the caprice of the deities. Because good grief. Wikipedia calls Athena – no, sorry, bright-eyed Athena – “Odysseus' protectress”. With a protectress like her, who needs enemies? Great job, babe. Of course, if O hadn’t gotten massively cocky and blinded the Cyclops - and then introduced himself - he would have been okay. But noooo.

And that’s the overriding source of my hatred, or one of them: I hated Odysseus. My language got a little colorful as I listened to yet another fable cooked up for a loved one. I understand why he wouldn’t just hop back onto Ithaca and yodel “Honey, I’m home” – but to have to listen to four separate, elaborate, seriously over-detailed false stories (one for the swineherd (and how is someone whose father was a noble supposed to be happy being another guy’s swineherd?), Telemachus, Penelope, AND Laertes (whom I kept thinking ought to be a young guy out to defend his sister, of course)) was … painful. I may have wailed out loud when I realized he hit Ithaca and there were still about five hours to go in the audiobook. It would have been a lot less without the lies. Wait, five false stories – the old nurse got one too, but she didn’t buy it. I thought for sure Laertes would expire of the shock. (And don’t think I’m not holding the dog against … everybody.) (Was I supposed to admire or despise Penelope? She stayed true to O for 20 years, but she let the dog die; even Telemachus couldn’t decide whether to love her or hate her.) And why? To “test” them. “I will put my father to the test, see if the old man knows me now, on sight, or fails to, after twenty years apart.” REALLY? Okay, no, I get it – were they all faithful? (Though, after 20 years, if they hadn’t been, they could hardly be blamed; nowadays you’re declared dead after seven. Though, of course, they WOULD have been blamed, and would have probably ended up dead on O’s arrows. Or the gods would smite them. Or something.) (I don’t even want to discuss O’s poor mother.)

And … I’m sorry, Odysseus was just an overweening ass. Again, “Yay, we’re getting away from the Cyclops – with whom we wouldn’t have been in trouble if I had listened to, oh, everyone – let me taunt him like a Monty Python Frenchman. Oh. Your dad is who now? Oopsy.” And oh, yes, his durances vile in the beds of Circe and Calypso – how traumatic. Man of troubles my ear. His mother dies of grief. His father withers away. His wife fends off 108 importunate jerks trying to get into her bed, raping her maids, and eating her out of house and home (while being reviled half the time by the suitors, and the other half by everyone else). O? Spends years banging nymphs and goddesses. “Long-enduring Odysseus” - spare me.

Too, it may be a lifetime of steeping in Star Trek and British naval tradition talking here, but a captain who comes home having lost not only his ship but every single crewman is a piss-poor captain. He was attacked by the families of the suitors he killed – I was hoping he’d be attacked by the families of his sometimes-hideously-dead crew. (Not that most of his crew didn’t deserve to be eaten by various and sundry nasties; what a bunch of chuckleheads.)

And then, at (well, toward) the end, he kills all the suitors almost single-handed – and then tells his son and the serfs to gather up all the women who had slept with the suitors and mocked him and so on and kill them slowly and painfully. Wait, what? So they do. And of course I’m aware that I’m still imposing my point of view on the story, but … I was horrified. Somewhere along the line I had the idea that Odysseus was some brand of hero. This is not heroic. Yes, the women betrayed Pen and O, fine, got it. But … women. I’m not used to the fight being taken to the women. (Um ... yay early equal rights?) Well, it wasn’t much of a fight – at least the suitors did get to fight back. The women could just cry and plead. The main thing, though, was that O didn’t do it himself. He did all the manly-man stuff – and left the dispatch of the women to the boy and the servants. Again, that just strikes me as the action of a piss-poor leader.

The second largest component of why this thing was so remarkably painful was the truly terrible translation by Robert Fagles. “Hate” is not too strong a word for how I feel about this. It’s a bit like the problem I had with Jules Verne a while back; part of me wants to give a different translation a try, but the most of me shudders at the thought of going through it all again. I don’t know if Fagles was trying to modernize it, or just had a tin ear – or, for all I know, this was a dead-on accurate translation (which I seriously doubt) – but to hear O say something is “not my style”, or that something cramped his style, made my flesh crawl. Why would Fagles use the word “appetizers” (over and over) instead of what another translation calls “delicacies”? I picture pigs in blankets and things on toothpicks. Fagles repeats (over and over AND over) that the suitors are decimating O’s herds “scot-free”; the other translation I’m looking at uses “without repayment”. Oh, here’s a good one: the other translation says “please listen and reflect”. Fagles? “Listen. Catch my drift.” Ow. There was more. I don’t think it’s necessary to continue the list.

It was obvious to me that this must have begun as an oral epic, sung or recited; that makes sense of the constant repetition. However, even in audio form, to my present-day ear the constant repetition was like the proverbial clawed blackboard. Yes. I know dawn has rosy fingers. Stop it. And the recaps. Oh, gods, the recaps. Here I thought that was a modern development for reality shows catering to the attention-span-and-short-term-memory-impaired. Nope. Example: three minutes after all the suitors are dispatched I got to hear the whole story again as the ghosts tell it, with the added bonus of hearing about Penelope’s weaving. Again.

And then, finally, the thing just … ended. I was sure I was going to have to sit and listen as O toted his oar inland (which just made me think of the song “Marching Inland”, which I suppose was inspired by this) and then, apparently, dropped dead when someone said “hey, what’s that thing?” At least I was spared that. But what a bizarre way to close it out.

Oh, and good god(s), the amount of time spent lauding some jackass who got drunk and fell off a roof made me want to push Homer off a roof. A skyscraper. I … wow. I’m kind of surprised there wasn’t a paean to some idiot who tripped over the laces of his sandals.

So, to sum up, I’m glad I listened to it… rather in the same way I was glad to have wisdom teeth extracted. It was necessary, it was good for me, I hated the whole experience and never want to do that again.

Ever since I first read Homer’s epic describing the adventures of Odysseus back in my school days, three of those adventures fired my imagination: The Lotus Eaters, The Cyclops and the Sirens, most especially the Sirens. I just did revisit these sections of this Greek epic and my imagination was set aflame yet again. How much, you ask? Here is my microfiction as a tribute to the great poet:

THE SIRENS

This happened back in those days when I was a member of an experimental performing-arts troupe down in Greenwich Village. We would read poetry, dance and act out avant-garde plays in our dilapidated little theater. For a modest charge people could come in and watch for as long as they wanted.

Somehow, a business executive who worked downtown in the financial district heard of what we were doing and spoke with our director about an act he has all worked out but needed a supporting cast and that he would pay handsomely if we went along with him.

Well, experimental is experimental and if we were going to be well paid we had nothing to lose. The first thing he did was pass out our costumes. In addition to himself, he had parts for three men and three women. The play we were to perform was so simple we didn’t even need a written script. He was to be Odysseus from Homer’s epic and three men would be his sailors. As for the women, we would be the singing Sirens.

So, after he changed – quite a sight in a loincloth, being gray-haired, jowly, pasty-skinned and potbellied – we went on stage and he told the sailors how no man has ever heard the hypnotic songs of the Sirens and lived to tell the tale but he, mighty Odysseus, would be the first. He instructed the sailors to tie him to the ship’s mast. They used one of the building’s pillars and when he cried out as the Sirens sang their song the sailors, who had wax in their ears, were to bind him to the mast even tighter.

Meanwhile, three of us ladies were on stage as the Sirens, in costume, bare-breasted and outfitted with wings. We began singing a sweet, lilting melody. Mike – that was the businessman’s name – started screaming and the sailors tightened the ropes that bound him. The sailors were glad their ears were plugged as Mike screamed for nearly half an hour.

When the ship passed out of earshot of the Sirens, the sailors unbound mighty Odysseus and he collapsed on our makeshift stage, a mass of exhausted middle-aged flesh. The audience applauded, even cheered and we continued our performance of Odysseus and the Sirens every night for more than a week. Then one night Mike outdid himself. His blue eyes bulged, the veins in his neck popped and his face turned a deeper blood-scarlet than ever before. And what I feared might happen, did happen – Mike had a heart attack. We had to interrupt our performance and call an ambulance.

We all thought that was the end of our dealing with Mike aka Odysseus until our director received a call from the hospital. Mike told her he was going to be just fine and would be back on stage next week. We called a meeting and everyone agreed that we would suggest Mike seek psychiatric help but if he insists on playing Odysseus, he will have to take his act elsewhere.

2°leitura - 2019

"Não é então a Odisseia o mito de todas as viagens? Talvez para Ulisses-Homero não existisse a distinção mentira-verdade, e ele contasse a mesma experiência ora na linguagem do vivido, ora na linguagem do mito, tal como ainda hoje para nós qualquer viagem, pequena ou grande, é sempre uma Odisseia."
Italo Calvino - Porquê Ler os Clássicos?

E cinco anos depois a releitura da Odisseia cresceu e consolidou as 5☆, nesta edição da Cotovia e no excelente texto de Frederico Lourenço.

1°leitura - 2014
"Odisseia s.f.Fig. Viagem cheia de aventuras extraordinárias. Série de acontecimentos e peripécias estranhas e variadas."

E é mesmo disso que se trata; a viagem mais excepcional de sempre, o herói mais admirado e acarinhado pelo seu povo,ora posto à prova, ora ajudado pelos deuses caprichosos. Astucioso, enfrentou desafios impensáveis para o comum mortal numa epopeia que durou vinte anos. Foi o exemplo da bravura, da coragem, tenacidade e inteligência.
Mais velha do que Cristo, esta obra tem servido de inspiração a pintores, cineastas, escritores e, numa versão resumida, continua a fazer parte do programa de Língua Portuguesa nas escolas.
Numa época em que a honra se lavava com sangue e a valentia de um homem se equacionava pelo numero de cabeças cortadas, Ulisses não fugiu à regra. Foram demasiados relatos de membros decepados e mortes violentas. Tanto sangue roubou-lhe uma estrela.

Con "La Ilíada" me tomé mi tiempo, pero "La Odisea" lo he devorado, y de haber tenido más tiempo libre, creo que habría tardado en leerlo solo tres días como mucho. Me enganchó desde el principio y se me hizo súper ligero; es un libro lleno de aventuras en el que no dejan de ocurrir cosas. Lo he pasado pipa leyéndolo y, el hecho de tener a mis espaldas ya "La Ilíada", que es bastante más denso, ha hecho de esta lectura un libro muy ágil y accesible para mí.

Se puede observar mucho en "La Odisea" sobre la vida cotidiana de la Antigua Grecia y todo lo que de ellos adoptaron los romanos, como por ejemplo la práctica de la hecatombe, que parece un simple sacrificio en masa de vacas y ovejas, pero en realidad la carne de esos animales era la que después iba a comerse o venderse (no concebían griegos y romanos quitarle la vida al animal sin el acto sacrificial y la libación a los dioses). También se habla de la vida después de la muerte y las cosas que hacen las almas en el Hades, lo que nos lleva a entender la mística de la muerte en el mundo griego clásico. La mayoría de las aventuras de este libro son de dominio público cultural, pero leerlas en la obra original me ha resultado una experiencia magnífica, de la que he sacado innumerables matices históricos.

¿Hay que leer antes "La Ilíada"? Bueno, diría que no es del todo imprescindible, pero sí recomendable, ya que los cuatro primeros cantos y alguno más de los que van por en medio hacen referencia directa a hechos y personajes del primer libro y, aunque se coge el hilo, creo que se disfruta mucho más si sabes al 100% de qué te están hablando. Pero si no sabes nada sobre mitología griega o sobre la guerra de Troya, pues sí, para ti es imprescindible leer antes "La Ilíada". Esa es mi impresión y mi recomendación.

Sobre el tratamiento a las mujeres, se puede combinar esta reseña con la que hice de "La Ilíada", pero básicamente: no me gusta, pero este libro se escribió hace unos 2.800 años y, sin duda, ver el machismo y el trato a la mujer nos lleva a entender cómo funcionaba aquella sociedad. Relatar lo contrario sería olvidar el pasado, a mi juicio un gran error. Así pues, estoy deseando leer otras novelas, como "Penélope y las doce criadas", de Atwood, que narra "La Odisea" desde el punto de vista femenino. Va a ser muy interesante.

Con todo, ya digo que he disfrutado mucho de este libro, que además ha sido la lectura de julio y agosto del Club Pickwick y, de momento, el libro del club que más me ha gustado este año.

The founding novel of literature is the one that will inspire all future narratives. We know the story of Ulysses; we have read a few episodes and seen a film, but read the whole work, with these long chapters, the Homeric epithets, and the lengthy descriptions of the marine world with its monsters and demons. One has the impression of attending a closed session on the sea. Yet, Ulysses only berths to better take to the sea as if the mainland forbade him and harmful as if his condemnation to wandering on the sea was more beneficial on the water than on land. And then there are the episodes worthy of an adventure novel, the Sirens, symbols of literary song, the author's voice who takes us where we want and can destroy us (hey, Bovary), and monsters like Charybdis and Sylla.
Finally, this is surprising; we talk more about the others, Telemachus, her son looking for him, and Penelope waiting for her than about him, who wants to return. The novel has almost everything: the search for the other, the quest, the song of words, and the pleasure of returning home. It is as enjoyable to study and understand, so full of symbols, as reading.

So my first “non-school related" experience with Homer’s classic tale, and my most powerful impression, beyond the overall splendor of the story, was...HOLY SHIT SNACKS these Greeks were a violent bunch. Case in point:

n  ...they hauled him out through the doorway into the court,
lopped his nose and ears with a ruthless knife,
tore his genitals out for the dogs to eat raw
and in manic fury hacked off hands and feet.
then once they’d washed their own hands and feet
they went inside again to join odysseus.
their work was done here now.n

"Their work was done here now." What a great line.

Want more violence you say? How about slaughtering over 100 house guests for over-indulging in your hospitality? Can you say overkill!! And for the true splatter junkies out there, you can add in some casual rapes, widespread maiming, a score of people-squishing, crew members being chewed and swallowed, healthy doses of mutilation and torture, and one cyclops blinding. That should make even the most discriminating gore hound leg-humping happy. Yes...that's me...guilty.

However, beyond the cockle-warming violence and mayhem, this is a rocking good story that I enjoyed (as in "smile on my face thinking this is genuinely cool”) much more than I expected to going into it. There is nothing dry or plodding about the story. Beautifully written, and encompassing themes of love, loyalty and heroism while commenting on many facets of the human condition. As important as this story is to literature, it is above all else...ENTERTAINING. In fact, without its massive entertainment factor, I'm pretty sure it's overall importance among the classics would be significantly reduced. Thankfully, there is no risk of that.

n  A NOTE ON THE TEXTn

Before I continue, I want to comment on the version I read/listened to because I think can be critical to people’s reaction to the story. There are a TRUCKLOAD of Odyssey translations out there and, from what I’ve seen, they range wider in quality and faithfulness to the original text than those of almost any other work of Western Literature. These versions can differ so much that I believe two people with identical reading tastes could each read a different translation and walk away with vastly different opinions on the work.

The version I am reviewing (and from which the above quote is derived) is the Robert Fagles translation which uses contemporary prose and structure while remaining faithful to the content of the original. I found it a terrific place for a “first experience” with this work because of how easy to follow it was. Plus, I listened to the audio version read by Sir Ian McKellen which was an amazing experience and one I HIGHLY RECOMMEND.

In addition to the Fagles version, I also own the Alexander Pope translation as part of my Easton Press collection of The 100 Greatest Books Ever Written. While listening to the Fagles version, I would often follow along with the Pope translation and let me tell you....they are vastly different. While the overall story is the same, the presentation, prose and the structure are nothing alike. As an example, here is the same passage I quoted earlier from the Pope translation.

n  Then forth they led [______], and began
Their bloody work; they lopp’d away the man,
Morsel for dogs! then trimm’d with brazen shears
The wretch, and shorten’d of his nose and ears;
His hands and feet last felt the cruel steel;
He roar’d, and torments gave his soul to hell.
They wash, and to Ulysses take their way:
So ends the bloody business of the day.n

Very different treatments of the same scene. In my opinion, the Pope language is more beautiful and far more poetic and lyrical than the Fagles translation. However, I am glad I started with the Fagles version because it provided me with a much better comprehension of the story itself. No head-scratching moments. Now that I have a firm grounding in the story, I plan to go back at some point and read the Pope version so that I can absorb the greater beauty of that translation.

In a nutshell, I'm saying that you should make sure you find a translation that works for you. That’s my two or three cents.

n  THE STORYn

So Odysseus, master strategist and tactician (not to mention schemer, manipulator and liar extraordinaire), travels home to Ithaca after the Trojan War. Delays and detours ensue which take up the first half of the story. Most of these travel snags are caused by Poseidon, who is grudging on Odysseus for stick-poking Poseidon’s son (i.e. the Cyclops) in the peeper. Not to fear, Athena (goddess of guile and craftiness) is a proud sponsor of Odysseus and, along with some help for big daddy god Zeus, throws Odysseus some Olympian help.

Odysseus’ travels are full of great summer blockbuster-like entertainment and at the same time explore all manner of Greek daily life as well as touching on many of their beliefs and traditions. It really is a perfect blend of fun and brain food. From his time on the island homes of the goddesses Calypso and Circe (who he gets busy with despite his “undying” love for his wife, Penelope...men huh?), to his run ins with the giant Laestrygonians and the Lotus-eaters (i.e., thugs and drugs) and his fateful encounter with the Cyclops, Polyphemus. Odysseus even takes a jaunt to the underworld where he speaks to Achilles and gets to listen to dead king Agamemnon go on an anti-marriage rant because his conniving wife poisoned him to death. Homer does a superb job of keeping the story epic while providing the reader with wonderful details about the life of the greek people during this period.

The man had story-telling chops..

Meanwhile, while Odysseus is engaged in the ancient greek version of the Amazing Race, back on Ithaca we’ve got a full-fledged version of the Bachelorette going on as over a hundred suitors are camped out at Odysseus pad trying to get Penelope to give them a rose. This has Odysseus’ son, Telemachus, on the rage because the suitors are eating, drinking and servant-boinking him out of his entire inheritance while they wait on Penelope. You might think that Telemachus could just kick the freeloaders out, but the law of “hospitality” was huge for the Greeks and the suitor-douches use it to full advantage.

Well Odysseus eventually makes it back to Ithaca, alone and in disguise, after all of this crew have been eaten, squashed, drowned or otherwise rendered life-impaired. Not an easy place to live is ancient Greece. Odysseus proceeds to work a web of deceit and revenge against the suitors that is a wonder to behold. I’ll leave the final climax to you, but I will say that there was no free lunch in Homer’s time and the checks that people wrote with their bad behavior are paid in full.

n  MY THOUGHTSn

This was a fun, fun, fun read. I want to start with that because this is not one of those classics that I think is worth while only to get it under your belt or checked off a list. This was a great story with great characters and in a style that was both “off the usual path” but still easy to follow.

Going back to my comments on the various versions of the story, I think this may end up being a five star read in one of the more flowery, densely poetic translations where the emotion and passion is just a bit more in your face. I am still thrilled to have listened to the version I did (especially as read by Gandalf) because I now have a firm foundation in the story and can afford to be a bit more adventurous with my next version.

The tone of the story is heroic and yet very dark. The gods are capricious and temperamental and cause a whole lot of death and devastation for nothing more than a bruised ego or even a whim. The pace of the story is fast and moves quickly with hardly a chance to even catch your breath.

It is a big epic story...it is THE BIG EPIC STORY...and its reputation is well deserved. A terrific read as well as one of the most important works in the Western canon. Definitely worth your time.

4.5 stars. HIGHEST POSSIBLE RECOMMENDATION!!