Tristia and Epistulae ex Ponto were written and sent to Rome at the rate of about a book a year from 9 c.e on. They consist of letters to the emperor and to Ovid’s wife and friends describing his miseries and appealing for clemency. For all his depression and self-pity, Ovid never retreats from the one position with which his self-respect was identified, his status as a poet. That is particularly evident in his ironical defense of the Ars in Book II of the Tristia.

In the absence of any sign of encouragement from home, Ovid lacked the heart to continue to write the sort of poetry that had made him famous, and the later Epistulae ex Ponto make melancholy reading.

Peter Green's translation and notes are so, so satisfying. The only reason why it took me so long to read was that it was so very sad. Tristia does what it says on the tin, srsly.

After reading "The art of love," reading the poems of exile is a gloomy prospect. The easy wit and sparkle that seems to shine so comfortably is almost entirely missing, but Ovid's brilliance is still very much in place. As long as you get past all the flattery of patrons and the emperor's family, many of the poems are quite good, and have at their core a sadness and longing to regain a sense of place in the world. Ovid is still a strong poet, and this translation does a good job of proving this fact.

No matter whether Ovid was actually exiled or not (there is some controversy on the matter), the emotion that speaks from these poems can be recognised and felt by anyone.

For exiles throughout the ages.

Review to follow

It must be noted that if you aren't a fan of sychophants or have no pateince for what seems like whining you should stay clear.

If these things don't deter you then you are in for a scarcely seen spectacle. A person whose achieved all the trapping of success lamenting on the loss of their Eden.

The first few books were ladled heavy in the the two points I noted earlier. It is upon reaching the latter books that one truly begins to marvel at the depths of despair. I (in my un-scholarly opinion) believe his metaphors begin to bite with that much more bitterness in these latter books. You begin to see him deal with people not writing him back, like friends slowly falling off of his regal chariot, why you even begin to see himself fall off that very same chariot. Yet all the while the poems mature and ripen with a clarity laced in sincere emotion.

To say the least this is a harrowing look at how people react when great people fall from grace. You see what people are reduced to and begin to wonder how you would fair in such a state.

Ovid is a bit pathetic as a writer at the end of his life. Don't read this unless you feel like being depressed.

I normally like Loeb translations of classical texts since they are accurate and authentic even where they translate poetry into prose, but this is one of the few exceptions where another translation is better than the Loeb equivalent.

Green translates both the four books of the Tristia as well as the Epistulae ex Ponto (Black sea letters), and does a good job of making these difficult texts readable. Where Loeb is very stilted in English, here the texts flow.

There are also extensive notes of a fairly basic type, and I tend not to agree with Green's interpretations which seem to me to be simplistic and out-of-date. But for a good English text of these works to accompany the Latin this is excellent.

Increíble cómo Ovidio escribió el libro más pandémico posible dos milenios antes de la pandemia.

Ovid is insufferable most of the time in this work; however, Peter Green’s notes were terrific and saved the book. I found his notes more interesting than Ovid’s words. For the best Ovid, see his Metamorphoses and Heroides.

Interesting insights into how Ovid handled his "exile."