Культурное значение этого произведения невозможно переоценить, и нужно читать Гомера до того, как начинать читать любые другие книги. Меня очаровала поэтика и великолепный перевод, осуществленные Василием Жуковским.
Особенностью древнегреческих мифов является то, что их героями являются смертные, хотя и не обходится без богов. Повествование хронологически разорвано, действие разворачивается в двух плоскостях - о подвигах Одиссея и о противостоянии Пенелопы и Телемаха с докучливыми женихами.
Личность Одиссея раскрывается в его поступках, он не идеальный герой, он способен ошибаться и его ошибки, например, желание позлить циклопа Полифема стоит жизнями его спутникам, и удлинением сроков его скитаний. Впрочем, он довольно эгоистичен, и долго не скорбит о потерях. Одиссей жесток, в этом мы убеждаемся в сцене расправы с неверными слугами. Но он совершает свой долгий путь домой, свой путь к себе.

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.

n  n    Book Reviewn  n
4 out of 5 stars to The Odyssey, published around 800 BC and written by Homer. I was tasked with reading this epic work as part of an Advanced Placement English course in between my junior and senior years of high school. I loved literature back then as much as I do now, and my reading habits probably grew from everything my teachers encouraged us to read during the summer hiatus and mid-year breaks. We sampled literature from all over the world, and this Greek tome was one of the many we read. We only read certain sections, as it's over 500 pages long, but I finished it on my own over winter break that year. It often depends on the translation version you read, as it might make it better or worse for you. I don't recall which one the teacher selected, but it must have been good as I did my quarterly papers on both this book and Homer's other work, The Iliad. The Odyssey was an amazing tale of a journey through the famed Trojan Wars in ancient Greece. Meeting all the gods and goddesses, understanding the genealogy and family structure, the plots between all their shenanigans and games... for someone with my hobbies and interests, this was perfect. The only part I found a bit dull was when it truly went into war-time battle descriptions, as reading details about fighting is not typically something I enjoy. But the soap opera-like quality of these characters cum deity realities was just absorbing fun. The lyrics and the words fly off the pages. The images and the metaphors are pretty. And if you know enough about Greek history, you almost feel as if you're in the story.

n  n    About Men  n
For those new to me or my reviews... here's the scoop: I read A LOT. I write A LOT. And now I blog A LOT. First the book review goes on Goodreads, and then I send it on over to my WordPress blog at https://thisismytruthnow.com, where you'll also find TV & Film reviews, the revealing and introspective 365 Daily Challenge and lots of blogging about places I've visited all over the world. And you can find all my social media profiles to get the details on the who/what/when/where and my pictures. Leave a comment and let me know what you think. Vote in the poll and ratings. Thanks for stopping by.

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.

It's funny how many people feel intimidated by this book. Sure, it's thousands of years old, and certainly Greek culture has some peculiarities, but the book is remarkably, sometimes surprisingly modern, and most translations show the straightforward simplicity of the story.

Perhaps like The Seventh Seal, The Odyssey has gotten a reputation for being difficult because it has been embraced by intellectuals and worse, wanna-be intellectuals. But like Bergman's classic film, The Odyssey is focused on action, low humor, and vivid characters, not complex symbolism and pretension.

It shouldn't really surprise us how modern the story seems, from it's fast-paced action to its non-linear story: authors have taken cues from it for thousands of years, and continue to take inspiration from it today. Any story of small people, everyday heroes, and domestic life we read today is only a few steps removed from Odysseus' tale.

Unlike the Iliad, this book is not focused on grand ideas or a grand stage. The characters do not base their actions on heroic ideals but on their emotions, their pains and joys, their grumbling bellies. It is less concerned with the fate of nations than the state of the family and friendship.

Since the story turns on whims instead of heroic ideals, it is much less focused than the Iliad, meandering from here to there in a series of unconnected vignettes drawn from the mythic tradition. Like The Bible, it is a combination of stories, but without a philosophical focus.

There are numerous recurring themes that while not concluded, are certainly explored. The most obvious of these may be the tradition of keeping guests in Greece. The most honorable provide their guests with feasts, festivals, and gifts. This seems mostly the effect of a noblesse oblige among the ruling class.

Like the codes of war or the class system, it is a social structure which benefits their rulership. Like the palace of Versailles of Louis XIV, keeping someone as a guest was a way to keep an eye on them and to provide camaraderie and mutual reliance amongst the fractitious ruling class.

The second theme is that of 'metis', represented by Odysseus himself. Metis is the Greek term for cunning. It is a quick-witted cleverness that is sometimes considered charming and other times deceitful. Achilles tells Odysseys in the Iliad that he resents the clever man's entreaties, and those of any man who says one thing but thinks another.

Odysseus later mimics this sentiment as part of an elaborate lie to gain the trust of another man. Such are the winding ways of our hero. He misleads his son, his wife, his servants, and his despondent father after his return, careful not to overplay his hand in a dangerous situation, arriving as a stranger.

Each of these prevarications can be seen sometimes as cruel, but each deception has a reasoning behind it. He uses his stories to carefully prepare his listeners for his return, instead of springing it upon them unwarned. He ensures that he will be received upon the most profitable terms, though he also enjoys the game of it all.

These acts of sudden, cruel cleverness are not uncommon in epics and adventure tales. One tale of Viking raiders tells of how, after sailing into the Mediterranean, their ship reached one of the cities of the Roman Empire. Though just a small outpost, the Viking chief thought it was Rome itself, since its stone buildings towered over the farms of his homeland.

He hid in a coffin with a wealth of swords and had his soldiers bear him into the town, telling the inhabitants they wished to make burial rights for their dead king. When they were let in, the coffin was opened, the swords passed around, and the city sacked. What is curious is that while warriors like the Greeks or Vikings maintained a strict sense of honor and honesty, this kind of trick was not only common in their stories, but admired.

The honor of the battlefield does not extend to the Trojan Horse (Odysseus' idea) or to the tale of Sinon in the Aeneid. The rule seems to be that if the tricks played are grand and clever enough, they are allowed, while small, mean pranks and betrayals are not. Not all the soldiers agree what is outsmarting and what is dishonorable (Achilles puts Odysseus in the latter camp), but there is a give and take there.

What is most remarkable about Odysseus is not merely that he comes up with these tricks, but that he passes them off on proud, honorable men without incurring their wrath. Moreover, he does all this while having a famous reputation for being tricky. You'd think he'd get an intentional walk now and then.

Odysseus was not as strong a character as Achilles or Hector were in the Iliad, though this may be because he was a complex character who did not rely on the cliche characterizations of 'the noble warrior'. He is not a man with a bad temper, nor a good one. He is a competent and powerful warrior and leader, but those are not his defining characteristics, either.

Odysseus represents the Greek ideal of 'arete' as well as metis. Arete is the idea that a man who is truly great should excel in all things, not merely concentrate on one area of life. Even raging Achilles showed the depth of his arete in the Iliad when he served as host and master of the games. He was capable of nobility, sound judgment, and generosity, even if he didn't always put his best foot forward.

Odysseus is likewise skilled in both war and domesticity, in the sword and politics, and he's clever and wily to boot. In the end, there isn't much room left over for negative character traits, which is what makes him feel a bit flat. What makes people interesting as individuals is not their best traits, but their worst.

For Odysseus, this is his pride. After spending twenty years of his life away at war, leaving his wife and infant son behind, it's not surprising that he wants to return home with wealth and with his name on the lips of poets and minstrels.

Between his pride, his easy smile, and his quick wit, he is the model for the modern action hero. He is not merely some chivalric picture of goodness, nor simply mighty and overwhelming, but a conflicted man with a wry sense of humor and above all, a will to survive.

Don't read this book simply because it is old, influential, and considered great. Read it because it is exciting and approachable and thoughtful. Even without all the reputation, it can stand on its own.

I read the Fagles translation, which was enjoyable and often lovely, though some modern idioms did slip in here and there. The Knox intro rehashes a lot of the introduction to The Iliad, but it's still very useful.

Θα ξαναγράψω εδώ αυτό που έγραψα και για την Ιλιάδα Αναθεώρηση ΟΛΩΝ αυτών που νόμιζα πως ήξερα επειδή νόμιζα πως στο σχολείο διδάχτηκα την Οδύσσεια
ΥΓ Spoiler Alert

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

n  "I'm not normally a praying man, but if you're up there, please save me, Superman!"n
—Homer
(Simpson)

Following James Joyce's lead, I used Homer’s heroic story as inspiration for a novel-in-progress.
But how can I, a mere mortal, do justice to the most famous epic poem ever written? An encounter with a work of this magnitude should be shared, rather than reviewed.
Homer is the great, great, great (recurring) grand-daddy of modern literature and this colossus is as immortal as the gods within it.
And what a tale this must have been way back in the 8th century BC. Then, it was sung, rather than read, and I guess the first to bear witness must have been jigging about in their togas with unbridled excitement.

Alas, I didn't read it in ancient Greek, as Homer had intended. My copy was transcribed to a Kindle, rather than papyri, and translated by none other than the genius that was Alexander Pope (yep, I went old school on this).

Odysseus, he of the title, otherwise known in Latin as Ulysses, embarks on a perilous, stop/start, um, odyssey, attempting to get home to Ithaca after fighting in the Trojan War for a decade.
Such an amazing story, overflowing with an abundance of adventure. Poor Odysseus, having battled treacherous seas, wrathful gods, enchanting sirens and a Cyclops, then has to put up with big bad Poseidon weighing in with some nautical muscle and shipwrecking his boat!

Plagued by setback after setback, the journey home takes TEN gruelling years to complete! And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, wife Penelope has meanwhile given up hope of him returning home alive and is being courted by one hundred suitors, none of whom are fit to kiss our hero's sandals.

This is by no means a page-turner and some background knowledge is required to appreciate the finer points. Pope has done an amazing job to remain somewhat sympathetic to the timbre of Homer's lyrical story, and his rhyming couplets are a thing to behold:

"But when the star of eve with golden light
Adorn'd the matron brow of night."

Beautiful!

Homer (the poet, not the cartoon character) has fuelled the imagination of countless authors throughout the centuries, and therefore it would be sacrilege for me to award anything less than five heroic stars.

Célebre epopeya que es no sólo una lectura obligatoria para cualquier amante de la literatura sino un imprescindible elemento de la cultura clásica.

Homero, poeta griego glorificado hasta nuestros días, nos legó en este caso la aventura sin precedentes del valeroso Ulises -también llamado Odiseo- tras la guerra de Troya en un intento de regreso a Ítaca, su tierra natal. La ira despertada en Poseidón y dirigida hacia nuestro protagonista lo lleva a extender y dificultar el viaje del héroe plagándolo de vicisitudes y encuentros con múltiples deidades o seres mitológicos. Éstos se erguirán como aliados o terribles elementos según la obra avanza.

La odisea es, sin dudas, una historia interesante, brutal y rica en sucesos, acción y mitología. Funciona como gran exponente de la visión de los griegos acerca del mundo, el valor, la integridad y las deidades. Ofrece además astutos, intrigantes y valientes personajes tanto como otros poseedores de una abominable mezquindad. Su lenguaje lírico envuelve todos estos elementos con una rigurosidad exquisita que la hacen la pieza literaria crucial que es pero que también la vuelven un texto no necesariamente accesible por su abundancia de descripciones, repeticiones y su lenguaje extravagante. Si uno puede superar esta barrera o amoldarse a ella, la odisea es enormemente disfrutable, si no, puede resultar tediosa.

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

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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...

3,5 aylık bir maceranın sonuna geldim. Okurluk hayatımın en büyük kırılmalarından biri oldu İlyada ve Odysseia. Bundan sonraki okurluk hayatım temelinden sarsıldı ve iyi ki de öyle oldu. Daha önce sanki karanlık bir yolda yönümü çok da bilemeden okuyormuşum da artık bir ışık yandı ve etrafımı görerek okuyor gibiyim.

Azra Erhat'ın her iki kitaba yazdığı önsözler ve Homeros -Gül ile Söyleşi- kitabını okumadan bu iki kitabın dünya sanat tarihinde nerede durduğunu ve kitapların anlattıklarını anlamam mümkün olmayacaktı, sayesinde okurluk hayatım aydınlandı.

Odysseia'yı okurken sık sık bölümleri farklı insanlar yazmış hissine kapıldım, bununla birlikte İlyada'ya göre daha kolay okunuyor, sürekli bir coğrafyadan ötekine doğru akan bir aksiyon olduğu için.
Bölümlerin farklı insanlar tarafından yazıldığını düşünmeme bir sebep de bölümler arasında bazı tutarsızlıklar olması. Bir bölümde okuduğum bir şey ilerleyen bölümde başka bir şekilde karşıma çıktı ya da ben öyle hissettim.

*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.