The Odyssey discussion: Books XIII - XVI

Odysseus is put ashore in Ithaca
Theodor van Thulden
Picture source

Fair nymph! if fame or honor were
To be attained with ease,
Then would I come and rest with thee,
And leave such toils as these.
But here it dwells, and here must I
With danger seek it forth :
To spend the time luxuriously
Becomes not men of worth.

- from "Ulysses and the Siren" by Samuel Daniel

Odysseus may not have wanted to spend time luxuriously but Homer slows down the second half dramatically, allowing the reader/listener time to savor the emotional depth of his delayed homecoming. Instead of the usual analysis of Odysses’ rebirth happening after his visit to Hades, I see his return to Ithaca as breaking free of the past. Finally Odysseus is fully Odysseus again, even when he is in disguise. His past has served him well in his visits (especially in telling about them on Scheria), but the Sirens’ voices highlight the danger of dwelling in the past. Back home on Ithaca there are many new challenges demanding all his strength and cunning. These challenges will include revenge upon the suitors, but in order to carry that physical challenge out he will be tested mentally and emotionally as well. If the journey home was a process for Odysseus to be ready for home life, it also prepared him in ways he will need to defend it.

State of Ithaca
To say that Ithaca is in disarray understates the situation. I have already mentioned the ambiguous status of both Penelope and Telemachus. They are bound by society to do something, but their choices are diametrically opposed and dependent on their status: widowed or married, son or heir. Odysseus’ absence does present the opportunity to see where loyalties and behaviors lie with those in Ithaca as well as Odysseus’ household. The suitors show an attempted usurpation of more than just their ruler’s bedroom, although they do make clear that the throne should pass to Telemachus. If Odysseus is dead, they are plotting regicide. The reader/listener will also see which of the servants are loyal. Eumaeus’ performance as swineherd shows more than just loyalty but a dedication to Odysseus in the way he carries out his tasks. He demonstrates protection of Odysseus’ household in various manners, whether in actually protecting his herd or in wishing to protect Penelope from liars taking advantage of her misplaced hospitality. Odysseus’ constant questions to Eumaeus and Telemachus demonstrate he is assessing the situation in his household and the country. Who can he rely on? Who can he not trust? Finding out this information is crucial in planning his revenge.

The fate of Odysseus’ parents provides some of the saddest parts of The Odyssey. We have already seen Anticleia, Odysseus’ mother, in Hades in Book XI. Her death is explicitly tied to his absence, which has to add to Odysseus’ grief. We are told that Laertes, his father, “grieves excessively” for both his son and his late wife.

Tests/Lies
Odysseus, having been asleep during the last leg of his journey, is tested when Athena reveals to him that he is on Ithaca. While Odysseus feels “great joy”, he lies to Athena about who he is. This makes Athena happy, both for his shrewdness and his patience. In his conversations with Athena and Eumaeus, Odysseus interweaves an ounce of truth for every pound of lies. Since he can effortlessly spin falsehoods, the truthfulness of his stories to the Phaeacians can easily be called into question.

Although Odysseus has been instructed not to reveal himself to anyone, witnessing Telemachus’ arrival at Eumaeus’ hut provides a challenging emotional test. Homer uses a simile projecting Eumaeus’ feelings in terms of Odysseus’ mind-set:

Just as a loving father
welcomes his dear son after a nine-year absence,
when he comes from a foreign land, an only son,
his favourite, for whom he’s undergone much sorrow,
that’s how the loyal swineherd hugged Telemachus
and kissed him often, as if he’d escaped his death.
(Book XVI, lines 16 – 21, all translations by Ian Johnston unless otherwise noted)

Listening to Telemachus treating Eumaeus as a father figure would provide an additional test of composure. One of the funniest scenes in The Odyssey occurs when Odysseus reveals to Telemachus that he is his father. Telemachus refuses to believe the one time in this section when Odysseus attempts to tell the truth. All Telemachus knows is that the beggar was instantly transformed into a regal person (without having seen Athena cause the transformation)—of course he thinks his so-called father is a god instead. Odysseus’ brief reply on how he arrived in Ithaca shows his focus on revenge, immediately changing the topic in order to size up the challenge.

Telemachus has evidently passed the test that Athena set for him. As she tells Odysseus, she sent him on his trip to “earn a well-known reputation” by going. We have seen his journeys and now witness his safe return. The suitors see his return as a great achievement since he has escaped their trap. While we see his excellent behavior toward his father (in disguise), we had already seen the same thing earlier when he received Athena (also in disguise) in the first book. So has Telemachus changed? He readily admits that he does not believe his hands “are strong enough / to fight a man who acts with violence / against me first.” There is little to go on from these chapters to make a good judgment, but that is almost beside the point. After revealing who he is, Odysseus immediately beings talking to Telemachus as an equal (or at least as an adult), laying out his plans and what his son will need to do after returning to the palace. His father trusts him when giving his instructions on what needs to be done. In these directives, we can see Telemachus will be tested in the same manner as Odysseus since they all revolve around deceptions and lies. Since The Odyssey involves so much “doubling” in story or scenes, the comparison that comes to mind when Odysseus is plotting with Telemachus is the recent collaboration between Athena and Odysseus. The goddess’ plotting with a mortal is echoed in the scheming of father and son.

The lies continue up to the end of this four-book section, with the suitors lying to Penelope. They disavow any plans to harm Telemachus, while they continue to plot against him.

Xenia
When Odysseus wakes after being placed on Ithaca, we hear the following speech for the third time:

”Where am I now?
Whose country have I come to this time?
Are they violent, unjust, and cruel,
Or do they welcome strangers? Do their minds
Respect the gods?”
(Book XIII, lines 240 – 244)

The first two times Odysseus said these lines were when he came to the land of the Cyclopes (horrible xenia) and when he awoke on Scheria (wonderful xenia). The irony here is that he is home on Ithaca, where the xenia he receives should not be an issue. Yet it will be crucially important because of the disguises he must wear. In addition, the changes that have taken place since his departure factor into his treatment—there will be good receptions from his son and his swineherd (even though they do not know him at first) and derision from the suitors (which will be seen in the next four-book section).

The xenia Odysseus receives in Eumaeus’ care goes beyond excellent and adds further layers of irony when the reader/listener finds out the swineherd is the son of a king. Here is the son of a king, reduced to being a servant, royally treating a king who appears as a beggar. In addition, Telemachus, the son of a king, treats this beggar (his father) well, too. Even when Odysseus tests Eumaeus, the swineherd provides proper graciousness and hospitality throughout. Another example of good xenia occurs when Telemachus welcomes Theoclymenus onto his ship for the return to Ithaca.

Melancholy
Throughout the work runs a feeling of sorrow and melancholy. Odysseus does not even see his return to Ithaca. The Phaeacians drop him off on Ithaca while he is asleep—the ultimate anticlimax to his wanderings. He has stated several times he wished to see his day of homecoming. He yearned “to see even the smoke / rising from his native land”, getting as close as seeing Ithacan men tending beacon fires before Aeolus’ winds were loosed and blew him away again. Now that he is home, Athena makes sure he does not recognize it at first so she can consult with him, her concern for his safety robbing him of the pleasure of his envisioned return.

When Athena reveals herself to Odysseus, this dark passage bears closer examination because of the disconnect between gods and mortals. When Athena says she has been “always at your side, looking out for you in every crisis”, Odysseus makes some dangerously pointed observations to a god. In effect, while noting her kindness during the Trojan War, he says he did not notice her help on his return. Not only that, he doubts she is telling the truth about this being Ithaca. Instead of being angry, Athena gently rebukes Odysseus and praises his intelligence and caution again. I don’t believe Odysseus ever comments on the atrocities committed after the war which would have angered Athena and caused her to withhold help from the Achaeans. The most we hear about them is Nestor’s comment in Book III that “They [Achaeams] had not been wise / or righteous, so many met a nasty fate, / thanks to the mortal anger of Athena, / bright-eyed goddess with a mighty father.” But the disconnection occurs when Athena (in effect) shrugs her shoulders and says she knew that Odysseus would eventually return home. Time is of no importance to a god. Yet the ten years it took Odysseus to return home make a huge difference in his life, and echoes Zeus’ comments about the seven-year delay in prodding Calypso’s release of Odysseus. The gods say that fate is being served, but the timetable matters to mortals. All of which should cause some tension within Odysseus as often as his fate is foretold in this work--he should be asking "when?" each time it is.

The bright spots in this section revolve around Eumaeus’ excellent behavior, both as a host and as Odysseus’ servant, as well as the reunion with Telemachus. But even the latter is bittersweet. Once Telemachus believes the man in front of him is Odysseus:

A desire to lament arose in both of them—
they wailed aloud, as insistently as birds,
like sea eagles or hawks with curving talons
whose young have been carried off by country folk
before they’re fully fledged. That’s how both men then
let tears of pity fall from underneath their eyelids.
(Book XVI, lines 269 – 274)

Yes, you expect an emotional scene, but with words like ‘lament’ and ‘pity’ (in addition to the simile), Homer has painted a picture of sadness for the lost years between them more than happiness to see each other.

Not helping in this gloomy atmosphere is the toxicity of Odysseus. His wanderings leave behind him a trail of death and destruction. The Phaeacians become the latest casualty in this section as Poseidon exacts his revenge for providing assistance to Odysseus. Not only does the god turn their boat to stone just before it returns home and holds the threat of a mountain range ringing Alcinous’ city over their head, but every future xenos will pay a penalty for Odysseus having been in Scheria. Those closest to him seem destined to sadness, a feeling which does not totally dissipate by the end of the work.

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As we saw with Achilles in Hades, having kleos meant nothing to the warrior once he was dead, yet he was joyful to hear of his son’s honorable deeds. Likewise, Odysseus’ prayer to the Naiad nymphs includes the wish to help his son “grow into a man.” Odysseus knows he has obtained kleos, the Phaeacians providing a taste of what that will mean after his death. But in addition, these warriors believe that having a glorious son will redound to them and help keep their name alive. After all, when asked his identity, Odysseus (when telling the truth) says that he is Laertes’ son almost immediately after stating his own name. Even for heroic warriors (or maybe especially for them,) they know they will lose to their mortality at some point. So they do what they can make sure their name lives on.

Reunion of Odysseus and Telemachos
Lucien Doucet (1880)
Picture source

The Odyssey discussion: Books IX - XII

Circe Offering the Cup to Odysseus
by John William Waterhouse (1891)
Picture source

When Circe had detained me more than a year
There near Gaeta, before it had that name
Aeneas gave it, and I parted from her,

Not fondness for my son, nor any claim
Of reverence for my father, nor love I owed
Penelope, to please her, could overcome

My longing for experience of the world,
Of human vices and virtue. But I sailed out
On the deep open seas, accompanied

By that small company that still had not
Deserted me, in a single ship. One coast
I saw, and then another, and I got

As far as Spain, Morocco, Sardinia, a host
Of other islands that the sea bathes round.
My men and I were old and slow when we passed

The narrow outlet where Hercules let stand
His markers beyond which men were not to sail.
On my left hand I had left Ceuta behind,

And on the other sailed beyond Seville.
'O brother who have reached the west,' I began,
'Through a hundred thousand perils, surviving all:

So little is the vigil we see remain
Still for our senses, that you should not choose
To deny it the experience--behind the sun

Leading us onward--of the world which has
No people in it. Consider well your seed:
You were not born to live as a mere brute does,

But for the pursuit of knowledge and the good.'

- Dante, The Inferno, Canto XXVI, lines 88 - 115 (translated by Robert Pinsky)

Despite only having second-hand knowledge of Homer, Dante highlights a key aspect of Odysseus’ character—his never-ending curiosity. As we see in this section, it also gets him and his crew into trouble.

Books IX through XII are a storytelling tour de force. The section is almost completely a monologue by Odysseus, chronologically leading from Troy to Calypso’s island. As pointed out in almost any study of The Odyssey, Odysseus begins this section the same as he was in The Iliad, sacking cities for timê and kleos. By the time he reaches the land of the Phaeacians, he no longer has any of his men, ships, spoils of war, or even clothes—he has been stripped of everything. Also in those analyses, the change over this period is symbolic as well as literal, stripping away the warrior role and preparing Odysseus for his return home. The trip to visit the dead then provides a symbolic rebirth. While I don’t completely agree with that analysis, I find it a good framework to work with for now. Part of the problem of interpreting The Odyssey is the ambiguity and contradictions found within it. Then again, that’s also part of what keeps people reading and listening to it more than 2,500 years later.

So how does Odysseus answer Alcinous’ question on his identity? “I am Odysseus, son of Laertes, / well known to all for my deceptive skills-- / my fame extends all the way to the sky.” (Book IX, lines 18 – 20, all translations by Ian Johnston unless otherwise noted. Compare that to his earlier (chronologically, that is) declaration to Polyphemus: “[T]ell them Odysseus destroyed your eye, / a sacker of cities, Laertes’ son, / a man from Ithaca.” (Book IX, lines 665-667) Odysseus now knows that his fame is extensive—he did not know that before Demodocus sang. In addition, telling of his journeys to the Phaeacians insures even greater fame. If I were the Phaeacians, however, I would question the complete truthfulness from someone claiming skills at deception. In addition, Odysseus claims that he would stay an additional year in Scheria in order to receive more splendid gifts, claiming he will earn more respect upon his return to Ithaca. While not fully stuck in “warrior mode,” he still focuses on kleos in addition to returning home. So which is sweeter, “a man’s own country and his parents” or winning “more respect, more love from anyone who looks at me”? While the two are not mutually exclusive, Odysseus knows the situation at home and seems to be willing to put that on hold in order to win more honor. Of course, staying an additional year may have simply been piling it deeper for the Phaeacians.

The challenges that Odysseus faces on his journey come in many different forms, whether threats of physical harm (Polyphemus, the Laestrygonians, Circe’s magic, Scylla, Charybdis, etc.) or some less external hazard (the Lotus eaters or Circe’s drug, for example, both of which cause the user to forget about home). Other dangers emerge throughout this section: female wiles leading to destruction or thwarting original wishes (Circe, Calypso, Clytemnestra), overconsumption of alcohol (helps in escaping Polyphemus, but harmful in the land of the Cicones), or mis-timed sleep (crucial in both opening Aeolus’ bag of winds and the killing of Helios’ cattle and flocks).

Additional challenges arise because of disagreements between Odysseus and his men. In the opening lines of the work I mentioned that Homer says the loss of Odysseus’ men was due to their foolish behavior. In some cases that rings true—not listening to Odysseus in the land of the Cicones or wanting to stop on the island where Helios’ livestock lived, for example, cost many men their lives. But Odysseus has his share of actions responsible for his men’s deaths, most importantly his display of hubris when leaving the land of the Cyclopes. By telling Polyphemus his name, he provides the means in which the Cyclops knows who to curse. Much of the difficulty that follows ties to Poseidon avenging the injury done to his son(and as an aside, much is made of The Odyssey being a father/son story because of Odysseus and Telemachus, but sometimes lost in the shuffle is the lengths Poseidon goes to revenge the harm done to his son). One thing made clear is Odysseus’ concern for his crew’s well-being. Twice he takes great pains to mention he divided up the spoils evenly (after the initial success in the land of the Cicones and with Polyphemus’ sheep), which throws his men’s suspicion of Odysseus hoarding Aeolus’ treasure into an even worse light. Also, the anguish Odysseus suffers is apparent when he chooses to sail closer to Scylla, knowing he will lose six men but insuring the entire ship is not lost by sailing too close to Charybdis.

Odysseus in the Cave of Polyphemus
by Jacob Jordaens
Picture source

Odysseus displays a constant curiosity with every new land. He looks for “Greek” signs of civilization, such as lands being cultivated or the building of cities in order to guess what type of people live there. Unfortunately his curiosity sometimes seems to border on the greedy side, wishing to see what type of gifts he will receive from the xenia demonstrated by the inhabitants. Most of these curiosities pale in comparison to Odysseus’ ultimate trip, that of going to Hades and back. The reason given for this trip comes from Circe, who tells Odysseus that the prophet Teiresias will “tell you your course, / the distance you must go on your return, / and how to sail across the fish-filled seas.” (Book X, lines 688 – 690) Yet in Book XII Circe provides almost all of the same information that Teiresias does on getting home successfully (as well as additional help). So the visit probably has more to do with storytelling effect, or rather dual storytelling effect for both Homer’s and Odysseus’ audiences. The allegorical effect, or visiting and being reborn plays a factor in having Odysseus make such a trip, as does the heroic aspect related to it.

And make an impact it does. One of the touching moments of the visit to Hades concerns seeing people he did not know had died, in particular his mother. Finding out that she died longing for him makes the scene even more touching. Another shade he sees is Agamemnon, again not realizing he had died. Agamemnon tells Odysseus the circumstances of his death and provides a warning about his return home, even while extolling Penelope’s virtues. Odysseus sees Teiresias and gets the needed information about his return home: if Helios’ cattle or sheep are touched, Odysseus will lose his crew and ship. And if Odyssey still happens to make it home, it will be in another’s ship, plus there will be trouble with suitors wooing his wife. Odysseus’ revenge on the suitors is predicted as well as an additional trip that Odysseus needs to fulfill (apparently to placate Poseidon). Even foretold is a seaborne death in his old age. In other words, Odysseus learns of his fate, a rarity among mortals.

Achilles’ appearance is the highlight of Odysseus’ visit to Hades, and possibly of the entire work. After Odysseus praises him and tells Achilles he has “no cause to grieve because you’re dead”, Achilles bitingly replies:

“Don’t try to comfort me about my death,
glorious Odysseus. I’d rather live working as a wage-labourer for hire
by some other man, one who had no land
and not much in the way of livelihood,
than lord it over all the wasted dead.” (Book XII, lines 623 – 628)

All he achieved, especially his kleos, while alive means nothing now that he is dead. Knowing he had a choice in fates must make his early death that much more bitter. However there is something that causes Achilles to rejoice and that is hearing about his son Neoptolemus and his exploits. In what seems to be a contradiction with his earlier message, Achilles rejoices in hearing about his son’s kleos. However it was Achilles’ everlasting glory that was tied to his own early demise, not his son’s or anyone else’s accomplishments. It isn’t hearing that his son was still alive that causes Achilles to rejoice but that he is “a celebrated man”. His earlier lament does not rule out preferring a glorious life while alive instead of being a wage-laborer—the most important part of that equation is being alive. The Odyssey focuses on the choice of life, even when faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Odysseus mentions just that choice several times, when in the face of tremendous challenges whether he should give up and die or “remain among the living”? In every instance he chooses life, even though he knows it means additional suffering.

Odysseus and the Sirens
by John William Waterhouse (1891)
Picture source

Nearing again the legendary isle
Where sirens sang and mariners were skinned,
We wonder now what was there to beguile
That such stout fellows left their bones behind.

Those chorus-girls are surely past their prime,
Voices grow shrill and paint is wearing thin,
Lips that sealed up the sense from gnawing time
Now be the favor with a graveyard grin.

We have no flesh to spare and they can't bite,
Hunger and sweat have stripped us to the bone;
A skeleton crew we toil upon the tide
And mock the theme-song meant to lure us on:

No need to stop the ears, avert the eyes
From purple rhetoric of evening skies.

- "Nearing Again the Legendary Isle" by C. Day Lewis

Update (19 May 2013): Book XI: The Book of the Dead at Classical Wisdom Weekly.

The Odyssey discussion: Books V - VIII

Nausicaa by Frederick Leighton (1878)
Picture source

Gerty smiled assent and bit her lip. A delicate pink crept into her pretty cheek but she was determined to let them see so she just lifted her skirt a little but just enough and took good aim and gave the ball a jolly good kick and it went ever so far and the two twins after it down towards the shingle. Pure jealousy of course it was nothing else to draw attention on account of the gentleman opposite looking. She felt the warm flush, a danger signal always with Gerty MacDowell, surging and flaming into her cheeks. Till then they had only exchanged glances of the most casual but now under the brim of her new hat she ventured a look at him and the face that met her gaze there in the twilight, wan and strangely drawn, seemed to her the saddest she had ever seen.

- from Ulysses by James Joyce (Nausicaä chapter)

Keep in mind that this section is occurring simultaneously as the first four books. This section sees Odysseus leaving Calypso’s island, reaching Scheria (the land of the Phaeacians), and the entertainment held by the Phaeacians in honor of him.

The Homeric similes, little used in the first four books, emerge again in this section. One that I enjoyed occurs when Odysseus has just reached land on Scheria, battered and bruised, more dead than alive. He burrows under some leaves to shelter himself from the evening cold, protecting his flickering spark of life:

Just as
someone on a distant farm without a neighbour
hides a torch underneath black embers, and thus saves
a spark of fire, so he won’t need to kindle it
from somewhere else, that’s how Odysseus spread the leaves
to cover him.

- Book V, lines 503 - 508 (all translations by Ian Johnston)

Fate
Fate is mentioned often in this section, with neither humans nor gods questioning or attempting to subvert it. Book XVI of The Iliad shows Zeus wanting to save his son Sarpedon from the death that is his fate. It appears that the gods can alter fate if they so choose, but the implications of doing so are far reaching. Hera points out that if Zeus saves Sarpedon from his fate, he should expect other gods to contravene fate as well. That Zeus decides not to step in to save his son demonstrates the respect that the gods have for fate. (If you really want to mix some metaphors, contravening fate seems to be a Pandora’s box the gods aren’t willing to open.) Yet while grudgingly deferring to fate, they insert themselves in mortals’ lives to assist or hinder fate’s outcome. Athena gives support to Telemachus often in the first four books, and here we see her helping Odysseus (and others) almost as often.

Even though Calypso says to Hermes that “there’s no way another god can override the plans of aegis-bearing Zeus or cancel them,” she attempts to do just that by offering Odysseus immortality in return for staying with her. She has already said the gods are jealous when goddesses partner with mortals—I think it’s possible she only offers this because she knows he will refuse her. In addition, mortals knowing their fate is a rare thing, but at various times Calypso, Leucothea and Athena reveal Odysseus’ fate to him. In addition, as I mentioned in the previous post on The Odyssey, Hermes was sent to warn Aegisthus that he was contradicting fate by planning to kill Agamemnon.

Poseidon’s anger at Odysseus is obvious, explaining why Athena broaches the subject of Odysseus’ return only when Poseidon is away from Olympus. In the opening of the first book, Zeus explains one reason for Poseidon's anger, which will be given much more detail in the next section. Poseidon realizes he will not change fate, but he will make it as difficult as possible for Odysseus to fulfill it. While the gods feel pity for man because he is destined to die, they don’t seem to fully comprehend man’s shortcomings. Time is not a factor for the gods—they are immortal after all. Seven years of a man’s life, such as what Odysseus spends trapped on Calypso’s island, is a significant part of his life that has been wasted. Zeus knows Odysseus’ fate, yet waits (and acts only when he does because of Athena’s prodding) to inform Calypso she must release him. We will see Odysseus directly addressing this point with Athena later in the work and her answer (or non-answer) reveals the gods’ lack of concern regarding time and its impact on man.

Xenia
It is easy to feel that discussions covering The Odyssey place too much emphasis on xenia. But there are several examples in this section that seem to support the importance of the concept. The most prominent instance occurs with the Phaecians—xenia is almost their reason for existing and they do not evade their duty. In addition, watch how the gods treat each other during their visits. They exhibit their own type of xenia, whether when Hermes visits Calypso or Calypso hosts Odysseus. Of course, Calypso violates xenia by holding Odysseus against his will (after a while) but she is a goddess so there is no retribution from Zeus. Also, when Odysseus desperately struggles to reach land on Scheria, he prays to a river god that “A man who visits as a wanderer commands respect, even with deathless gods”. The river god hears and assists Odysseus, supporting his claim.

When Odysseus wakes up on the island of Scheria, his first thoughts contemplate what the people are like: “Are they violent and wild, without a sense of justice? Or are they kind to strangers? In their minds do they fear the gods?” (Book VI, lines 149 - 151) In other words, providing xenia is a sign of civilization. We will see this question again from Odysseus. One exception to good xenia receiving blessing from the gods comes when Alcinous asks Odysseus to finally reveal who he is. Alcinous repeats a story his father told him, how Poseidon was angry because the Phaeacians would carry all strangers back to safety from Scheria, in effect punishing them for their xenia. The outcome of the crew that takes Odysseus is foreshadowed as well as what will happen to the Phaeacian’s city, but Alcinous accepts it (in advance, at least) as fate.

Odysseus and Nausicaä by Pieter Lastman (1619)
Picture source

Odysseus
The reader gets a good view of Odysseus’ character in this section. It is interesting to compare the Odysseus of this section versus the Odysseus of The Iliad. Calypso offers him his freedom but his reply is wary and cautious. Odysseus feels he has been the victim of the gods’ subterfuges, especially since the fall of Troy (without any recognition of what the Achaeans might have done to earn the gods’ wrath) so his wariness is well placed. For someone who has earned a reputation for deception, he cautiousness is natural and consistent with the earlier Odysseus.

While Poseidon toys with the raft on the sea, Odysseus wishes he had died with Achilles at Troy so his kleos would be great. As it is, he thinks he will “die a pitiful death”, alone on the sea with no glory. The irony of this wish will become apparent later. His glory has already traveled ahead of him as he will hear from Demodocus. But more importantly, Achilles’ view of death and glory challenges the desire for kleos, as Odysseus will find out in the next section I cover.

Odysseus' speeches in this section demonstrate a calculated intellect that fits each situation perfectly. Calypso offers him immortality if he will stay with her, but then implies that his desire to see his wife has to do with Penelope’s “form and beauty” versus her own. Realizing that insulting a goddess’ beauty cannot possibly lead to anything good, Odysseus’ answer to her is crafted perfectly so she can find no fault with him. He mentions that Penelope cannot compare to the goddess “in stature or beauty”, but he longs to be home.

His speech to Nausicaa proves his cunning and intellect. He has to figure out how a naked man, covered only in branches and “caked in brine”, can a) not scare the nearby girls who can help him, and b) successfully appeal for assistance. After musing between methods of supplication (the deadpan comedy at this point must have elicited laughs from the audience), he asks Nausicaa if she is mortal or a goddess. And not just any goddess, but Artemis. By referring to a militantly virginal and chaste goddess, Odysseus has taken many concerns that the girls may have had out of play. The remainder of the speech is wonderfully constructed, demonstrating that the stranger in front of the girls is pious, non-threatening, and in desperate need of help. The closing, when Odysseus asks the gods to grant Nausicaa her heart’s desires is a sly indication that he has known all the time that she is mortal.

During the competitive games, Odysseus stands aside, saying he is too lost in grief to participate. However when Euryalus insults him by saying he looks more like a trader and not skilled in competition (which by default questions his skill as a warrior), Odysseus loses himself in demonstrating Euyalus wrong. Having previously proved himself skilled in his speeches to the Phaeacians, he then shows his strength with the discus. As the potential builds for things to turn ugly, the hospitality offered by the Phaeacians and Odysseus’ acceptance of it calms things down.

Nausicaa
Shortly after approaching Nausicaa and receiving her promise of assistance, Odysseus bathes in the river and dresses. Athena makes him appear taller and stronger, causing Nausicaa to marvel at him and wish that a man like that would be her husband. Her speech to Odysseus as they prepare to return home is no less brilliant than the one by Odysseus mentioned above. In explaining why she will ask him to wait outside her town until she has had time to reach her house, she mentions that people will gossip about the man following her. Nausicaa then gives examples of hypothetical gossip, saying the townspeople will recognize Odysseus as tall and handsome. She further notes, through other’s gossip, that she is in the market for a husband and Odysseus is a perfect candidate. All of this is said with a high degree of plausible deniability—it’s not what Nausicaa said, it’s what the townspeople might say.

Unfortunately this short book is almost all we see of Nausicaa. She is a wonderfully drawn character, and like most female characters in The Odyssey she proves Odysseus’ match in some manner.

Entertainment songs, identity
Three songs are sung by “the godlike minstrel Demodocus” during the Phaeacian entertainment for Odysseus. For a minor character, Homer makes his counterpart central during Book VIII. In Book I, Telemachus tells Penelope not to blame the singer for a sad song—“One can’t blame the singers.” Homer seems to enjoy playing up the blessings that should be laid at their feet, however. The first song involves an argument during the Trojan War between Odysseus and Achilles (which is not something mentioned in The Iliad). Keep in mind as Odysseus cries that he has not revealed his identity to the Phaeacians yet. It isn’t made clear why he is crying at this point, although several things mentioned later in the book hint at the reasons: first is the grief at what has passed since Troy fell and his difficulty in getting home, while the second would be recognizing his kleos has spread far afield (and guaranteeing his name will live on after death).

The second song is a bawdy telling of Ares’ and Aphrodite’s affair. Hephaestus, Aphrodite’s husband, finds out she is sleeping with Ares. Hephaestus lays a trap for the two, catching them during one of their trysts and displays them for the other gods to see. The story doesn’t quite end the way Hephaestus would like, with every god escaping any form of justice. Just as interesting as the tale is Odysseus’ reaction to it: “Odysseus felt joy in his heart”. Yet it should be calling to mind what could be happening on Ithaca and the possibility of Penelope’s unfaithfulness. Maybe the song is more for the audience?

During the dinner, Odysseus requests Demodocus sing a song about the Trojan horse and Odysseus’ role in it. In doing this, he sends a nice cut of meat to the singer as recompense…Homer’s nudge and wink to the audience for tips, I’m sure. Demodocus sings the story and Odysseus weeps again. A striking simile occurs at this point:

Just as a woman cries,
as she prostrates herself on her dear husband
who’s just been killed in front of his own city
and his people, trying to save his children
and the citizens from the day they meet their doom—
as he dies, she sees him gasping his last breath,
embraces him, and screams out her laments,
while at her back her enemies keep beating her,
with spears across her spine and shoulders,
then lead her off, cheeks ravaged by her grief,
into a life of bondage, pain and sorrow—
that’s how Odysseus let tears of pity fall
from his eyes then.

- Book VIII, lines 657-669

The irony could not go deeper. His reaction from the grief he feels from his travels and the joy that his accomplishments are recognized far and wide is the same reaction his victims felt during Troy's fall. So much is evoked in this simple simile. Unfortunately I find it makes Odysseus less likeable as the simile is Homer’s, while Odysseus is blind to the similarity. His grief begins to irritate, much like that of Telemachus’ whining at the beginning of the work when Athena tells him to grow up.

So far, Odysseus has not fully been the same character we saw in The Iliad. Neither at home or at war, he is a character outside of any community. Strength and cunning will be emphasized starting with the next section, but so far his character resembles Achilles in The Illiad after withdrawing from battle. An Odysseus that is not at war and not at home has no identity. Which, come to think of it, could explain an important component of his grief. His acceptance of mortality (when Calypso offers immortality) also echoes that of Achilles’ choice between a long, peaceful life and a short, glorious one. Yet Odysseus’ choice in favor of mortality is in order to get home and to give him an identity and a role…not a choice made for glory.

Odysseus does not answer Queen Arete’s first query about his identity, instead telling of his most recent journey and why he is wearing clothes from her household. He does slip in his reaction to Euryalus’ taunt, yielding some information that would give him away to those that know about the Trojan War. However, we will see Homer’s reply to Alcinous’ question “Who are you?” starting in Book IX.

Odysseus at the Court of Alcinous by Francesco Hayez (1813-15)
Picture source

From Zeus to Seuss

I’m not much on academic-type studies, but Brian Boyd’s On the Origin of Stories: Evolution, Cognition, and Fictionlooks interesting. From the product description:

Art is a specifically human adaptation, Boyd argues. It offers tangible advantages for human survival, and it derives from play, itself an adaptation widespread among more intelligent animals. More particularly, our fondness for storytelling has sharpened social cognition, encouraged cooperation, and fostered creativity.

After considering art as adaptation, Boyd examines Homer’s Odyssey and Dr. Seuss’s Horton Hears a Who! demonstrating how an evolutionary lens can offer new understanding and appreciation of specific works. What triggers our emotional engagement with these works? What patterns facilitate our responses? The need to hold an audience’s attention, Boyd underscores, is the fundamental problem facing all storytellers. Enduring artists arrive at solutions that appeal to cognitive universals: an insight out of step with contemporary criticism, which obscures both the individual and universal.

The section of the book titled “From Zeus to Suess” caught my eye since his analysis parallels my current reading—bedtime reading to the boys (Curious George, Doctor Doolitle, Dr. Seuss lately) and then turning to The Odyssey before I go to bed.

Brian Boyd is an English professor at the University of Auckland and is considered a leading authority on Vladimir Nabokov. I first heard about the book in reading Robert Fulford’s article in the National Post.Here is an excerpt from the review:

Boyd draws parallels between the theory of evolution and the work of artists - Homer, Dr. Seuss, whoever. Natural selection, motiveless and unconscious as it is, nevertheless follows certain patterns. Again and again it randomly sets in motion possible solutions to problems of survival, fails, then starts again, re-using whatever elements have proven valuable. "In time, it can create richer solutions to richer problems." Put that way, evolution sounds exactly like the work of a writer.

Dr. Seuss's genius, as Boyd sees it, was the product of a brilliant artist who was also a tireless worker. Boyd contends that literary genius arises, in a perfectly naturalistic manner, through familiar Darwinian processes. A genius tests ideas, discards many, concentrates on a few. Like evolution, literary genius "does not know quite where it is going until it arrives there, usually after a long cycle of generate-test-regenerate." It builds on partial discoveries and then arrives at lasting solutions to problems no one could have formulated in advance.

Update: When looking for reviews, I missed the article by Laura Miller at salon.com reviewing the book. Yet another excerpt:

Boyd's explanation, heavily ballasted with citations from studies and treatises on neuroscience, cognitive theory and evolutionary biology, boils down to two general points. First, fiction -- like all art -- is a form of play, the enjoyable means by which we practice and hone certain abilities likely to come in handy in more serious situations. When kittens pounce on and wrestle with their litter mates, they're developing skills that will help them hunt, even though as far as they're concerned they're just larking around. Second, when we create and share stories with each other, we build and reinforce the cooperative bonds within groups of people (families, tribes, towns, nations), making those groups more cohesive and in time allowing human beings to lord it over the rest of creation. ...

Fiction also fosters a part of cognition known as the "theory of mind," one person's understanding that another person has feelings, desires, intentions and beliefs, the latter of which may or may not be correct. A child's ability to deduce that another child will mistakenly believe that a ball is still in a basket because the second child wasn't in the room when the ball was moved to a bucket develops surprisingly late, around age 5. Theory of mind is at the heart of empathy, and our brains are replete with systems for reinforcing it, such as the recently discovered mirror neurons, which fire both when you're, say, dancing and when you're watching someone else dance.

The Odyssey discussion: Books I – IV

Penelope Unraveling Her Web
Joseph Wright of Derby
Picture source

A god could easily bring someone home
from a long way off, if he wanted to.
But I’d prefer to go through many hardships
and then see the day when I got back
and reached my home, than to complete my trip
only to be butchered by my own hearth,
the way Agamemnon was cut down,
tricked by his own wife and by Aegisthus.
But the gods cannot protect a man from death
Which comes to all—even ones they love,
once the destroying fate of a harsh doom
has seized him.”

- Book III, lines 312 – 323 (all translations by Ian Johnston unless otherwise noted)


The weary loom, the weary loom,
The task grown sick from morn to night,
From year to year. The treadle’s boom
Made a low thunder in the room.
The woven phantoms mazed her sight.

If she had pushed it to the end,
Followed the shuttle’s cunning song
So far she had no thought to rend
In time the web from end to end,
She would have worked a matchless wrong.

Instead, that jumble of heads and spears,
Forlorn scraps of her treasure trove.
I wet them with my childish tears
Not knowing she wove into her fears
Pride and fidelity and love.

- from “Telemachos Remembers” by Edwin Muir

There are several problematic themes that develop early in The Odyssey. One revolves around Athena’s refusal to reveal Odysseus’ status to Telemachus and Penelope. Another is the lack of support Telemachus receives from his fathers’ friends, especially when compared to what they said they would do for Odysseus. Yet another, which will develop over the work, is the loss of Odysseus’ men. If he is a great leader, why do all of his men under his command perish? The poet takes a stab at it in the opening lines, blaming their deaths on their own stupidity. While his men do make stupid mistakes, to lay the blame completely at their feet isn’t entirely truthful. I mention the problematic themes first because I have heard many complaints about the start of The Odyssey, so I’ll try and look at what the first four books try to accomplish.

The first real scene takes place on Mt. Olympus, where we witness the gods discussing the death of Aegisthus (the first of many references throughout the work on this subject). Athena turns the conversation to Odysseus and recommends steps to help him return home these many years after the Trojan War has ended. Her first recommendation seems clear—send Hermes to notify Calypso that she must allow Odysseus to leave. The second action, prodding Odysseus’ son Telemachus to publicly address the unwanted suitors of Penelope and then sending him on a trip to Sparta and Pylos, is less obvious. Let’s look at what unfolds during these books and what they provide to the story.

Xenia, both good and bad examples, is a central focus of the entire book with this section laying the foundation for much of what is to follow. As an aside, readers of The Iliad will remember that xenia relationship carries over the generations, as seen in the exchange in Book VI when Diomedes realizes an ancestor of his opponent (Glaucus) had a guest/host relationship with his family:

“In that case, you’re an old friend of my father.
For Oeneus once entertained Bellerophon,
that worthy man, for twenty days at home.
The two of them exchanged fine presents.
Oeneus gave a shining purple belt,
Bellerophon a gold two-handled cup,
which I left in my house when I came here.

Telemachus’ hosting Athena (under the guise of Mentes) as well as Nestor’s and Menelaus’ hosting of Telemachus provide examples of good xenia. Menelaus takes offense that his attendant would even suggest that they might send the travelers on to find another host. The suitors provide an example of bad xenia, overstaying their welcome by several years. The suitors present several problems to the household. They threaten to completely consume its resources. Leocritus, one of the suitors, implies that even if Odysseus returns home at this point the suitors will kill him since they have too much invested now to leave empty-handed.

The suitors’ behavior also mirrors the disorder and decline in Ithaca. Telemachus’ call for an assembly is the first time one has been called since Odysseus left almost twenty years ago. In addition, having over 100 men milling around Odysseus’ house for several years provides nothing to the community. There is a need for strong leadership, whether from Odysseus or Telemachus. Mentor, Odysseus’ companion and appointed house steward when he left for war, tells the men of Ithaca that they are not worth of a good ruler anymore since they allow the suitors to continue draining their ruler’s resources. Yet the status of Odysseus complicates things in many ways. If he is dead, then Telemachus should be the ruler but he is not mature enough to lead. Even if Odysseus is alive, there does not seem to be anyone competently overseeing Ithaca as they await his return. This limbo mirrors Penelope’s status. If Odysseus is dead, she is expected to remarry. If alive, her attempts at maintaining the household are failing because of the suitors. Her deceit in unraveling Laertes’ funeral shroud has been uncovered and she finds it difficult to put them off for much longer.

Telemachus has not done much to help, failing to assert himself. Close to 20 years old, he sits around the house wondering how he may get rid of the suitors and also how to “win honor for himself.” During Athena’s dream-like visit to Penelope in Book IV, Penelope recognizes Telemachus has not matured, “with no idea of how men struggle on or conduct themselves in meetings.” Is this one of the reasons Athena has Telemachus has speak in front of an assembly in addition to “appealing to the gods as witnesses”? This Telemachus at the start of the book will be of no use to Odysseus when he returns. “You must no keep on acting like a child—you’re too old for that”, Athena (disguised as Mentes) chides Telemachus. The goddess’ goal in both the speech and the trips to Pylos and Sparta is to speed his maturation. Simply telling him that his father is alive and will be home soon means Odysseus will have the same immature kid that we see in Book I instead of someone to rely on for assistance.

There is some maturation in Telemachus in this section but the foundation is being laid for even more. After Athena (disguised as Mentes) leaves, he shows some backbone in rebuking Penelope when she wanted the singer to change songs. He follows up on this by acknowledging to the suitors that he is bound by xenia to host them, but he calls on Zeus for retribution, noting that if the suitors are destroyed within his house they will not be avenged. He refuses to back down in front of them now. In his trips to see Nestor and Menelaus, Telemachus hears several times about Aegisthus’ murder of Agamemnon and also Orestes’ avenging his father’s death. Each time Orestes is held up as a good example of what a son should do. While the story implies that the suitors may try and kill Odysseus if he returns, Nestor and Menelaus drive home the point that people will speak good things about those as brave as Orestes and how important it is for a murdered man to have a worthy son. They do everything but hand Telemachus a loaded gun and say “you know what to do.”

At the end of this section, the reader gets an inner look at Penelope as she finds out that Telemachus traveled to Pylos and Sparta as well as the suitors plan to kill him on his return. This is almost too much for Penelope, who thinks she has lost both her husband and her son. This is why the book starts where it does. Before you first see Odysseus, the reader understands what is at risk if he does not return to Ithaca immediately. Also, by starting the work with Telemachus, we first see Odysseus through his eyes. He does not know his father except through what others have told him. If "few men are like their fathers" and what he is told of his heritage is true, what does he have to do to make a name for himself? What does it mean to be the son of Odysseus, even if he can't confirm it? When visiting Nestor and Menelaus, the reader can feel the struggle within him when asked "Who are you?" At this point, he isn't sure.

Telemachus’ first stop after leaving Ithaca was Pylos. Nestor gives an overview of what happened after the fall of Troy, while hinting at the difficulty men had in getting home: “They [the Achaeans] had not been wise or righteous, so many met a nasty fate”. Nestor provides details of Agamemnon’s return and death, then recommends Telemachus go visit Menelaus since he has only recently returned home from the Trojan War. Nestor offers the services of his son Peisistratus and a chariot to travel. In reaching Sparta, Telemachus notes the wealth that Menelaus returned with. (It is interesting to see that much of the wealth Menelaus returned with was from Egpyt—is this imposing a Greek tradition on non-Greeks?) Helen drugs the wine to help blunt the pain of talking about Odysseus, Troy and the trip home. We find out Odysseus’ role in the Trojan Horse (and Helen’s attempt to sabotage the ruse). Unable to sail home from Egypt, Nestor gets guidance from Eidothea, the daughter of Proteus (the Old Man of the Sea). She instructs Menelaus how to catch Proteus in order to find out how to get home. The troubles and deaths of those returning from Troy are listed, including more detail on Agamemnon’s death. (A good summary on the return of Achaean leaders from the Trojan War can be found here). Proteus tells Menelaus that Odysseus had been seen “in the palace of the nymph Calypso”, stranded there against his will. But as Menelaus mentions before he knows who his visitors are, he is not sure whether Odysseus is alive or dead now.

I find it interesting that neither Nestor nor Menelaus are willing to help Telemachus regarding the problem of the suitors. Nestor says, in effect, “Ah, I’ve heard about your problems with the suitors. Hopefully Athena will help you like she helped your father.” Menelaus talks about how much he cherished Odysseus and the hopes he had for the two of them upon their return. He notes how disgraceful it is for the cowardly suitors to “want to lie in that brave warrior’s bed”. Both hosts give him gifts out of their obligation under xenia, but no additional help. Why is it that? Part of the answer may be that they do not see it as their problem. They have returned from a long, arduous war and journey and they may not want to sign up for additional efforts away from home. But the easier answer is that Telemachus does not ask for their help, nor did Athena instruct him to. The only thing he explicitly asks for is news about his father. Asking others for assistance would be a key step in his maturation (but undermines the direction Homer wants the story to go). While his father’s status has been in limbo for a long time, up until these visits Telemachus has been content to let others do things for him as well as moan and complain about his situation.The reader sees Telemachus again until Book XV, so the key will be to see if he has changed after completing these tasks set by Athena. Will he live up to the adjectives, such as “shrewd” and “prudent”, used to describe him?

Another point to keep in mind while reading The Odyssey is Zeus’ opening comment (I, lines 41 – 45):

"It's disgraceful how these humans blame the gods.
They say their tribulations come from us,
when they themselves, through their own foolishness,
bring hardships which are not decreed by Fate.”

Everyone seems to pass the blame in this work, gods and humans alike. The suitors blame Penelope for extending their stay, for example. Telemachus blames “the gods with their malicious plans” for the problems they are seeing at his house. As Zeus points out, not everything is set by Fate. The gods warned Aegisthus not to kill Agamemnon or seduce his wife, letting him know that Orestes would avenge the murder. The suitors are warned several times about their behavior but they consistently ignore the advice. Halitherses’ interpretations of recent signs as well as his prophecy to Odysseus are waved off (in a very rude manner). Noemon, when revealing he lent Telemachus a ship to sail to Pylos, all but spells out for the suitors that a god was helping Telemachus.

The interaction between the gods and Fate, explicitly addressed in The Iliad, may help explain the gods’ varied approach (direct versus indirect) in counseling mortals. Aegisthus and the suitors are warned (directly and through strong warnings) not to commit crimes. Yet Telemachus, Penelope, and Odysseus receive mostly indirect assistance from the gods. Athena (as Mentes) informs Telemachus about the status of his father, but it is couched as prophecy. She sends him on his trip in order to strengthen him, both in maturation and spirit, in order that he can better control his own destiny. When she does help Telemachus, it is indirect in the sense that her assistance enables him to achieve other things. For example, Athena puts courage in his heart or provides him with “god-like poise” to help him in his tasks. Athena appears to Penelope in a dream (as her sister) to instill hope about Telemachus’ safe return, yet refuses to say anything about Odysseus. For someone needing a topic for a paper, analyzing Athena’s interaction with mortals would provide plenty of material. One direct interaction between the gods and men is mentioned when Zeus summarizes Poseidon’s anger at Odysseus, the details of which will be provided later in the work. Poseidon’s anger at the Achaeans goes back to The Iliad with the defensive wall built on the beach to protect their ships.

A few loose points on this section:

• Nestor’s son Peisistratus, in his toast to Athena, declares “All men need the gods.” Athena, disguised as Mentor, in her toast wishes the gods to “give Nestor and his sons a glorious name.” Is that what gods view as the highest achievement for mortals? In this worldview (with limited exceptions), granting kleos is the closest thing to immortality for humans.
• Athena (disguised as Mentor) tells Telemachus, after one of his outbursts, the problem with the suitors is “they have no idea of death, the dark fate closing in on them.”
• Mentioned several times, when visitors declare who they are, is doubt and the possibility the guests are lying. Menelaus asks if it is known who the visitors “claim to be”, recognizing there may be deception.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,--
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

- from “Ulysses” by Alfred Lord Tennyson

The Farewell of Telemachus and Eucharis
Jacques-Louis David
Picture source
More on the character Eucharis (who does not appear in Homer)

GILFs?

For a different spin on mythology from someone reading The Iliad, check out his Top 5 GILFs (ads may be NSFW).

I'm still laughing at the premise. Thanks to... well, I won't out you here.

Update: I should have added my usual equations on god/human relationships:
Male god / female human = pregnancy
Female god / Male human = death, usually painful and awful

That may be an oversimplification, but not by much. The first time through, I missed the part of Book IV in The Odyssey where Menelaus was promised an alternative to death (living on in Elysian Fields). I guess the lesson is not to sleep with a goddess but preferably with a half-goddess (Helen). Especially if she is Zeus' offspring.

The Odyssey discussion: introduction

Marble seated harp player
Cycladic, late Early Cycladic I–Early Cycladic II, ca. 2800–2700 B.C.
Picture source
(More about the figure here)

While my thoughts constantly change on what direction I want this site to go, the one thing I have kept in mind of late is that I want my discussions to benefit someone approaching a work for the first time. Most online study guides have good overviews but sometimes lack depth. Yet many of the academic papers I find focus on minutiae or theory that is beyond me. So I aim for a happy medium…something that assists in maximizing the experience of reading a work while providing links (or information, or whatever) in case there is a particular area into which the reader wants to dig deeper. In short, I’m aiming for what I would like to see in approaching a work for the first time. The community that comes from reading is just a huge bonus.

All that as a reminder (probably more for me than to anyone else) on what to expect from the discussions on The Odyssey. I have heard or read about several people who have given up on the work after just a book or two. The usual complaints follow along similar lines: the beginning books go nowhere, why does Athena make things so difficult when she could easily solve everything quickly, why focus on Telemachus, what's the big deal about the suitors, or a combination of these.

Yet everything is in there for a reason and the structure is vitally important. So before someone else gives up on the whiny kid before reading about his dad, I will lay out a few of the themes I remember from my previous reading of The Odyssey. The structure deserves a post of its own, so I’ll wait before I tackle that topic. One of the central themes is Odysseus’ attempt at homecoming (nostos in Greek). His longing for home…the vitality of home…is what drives him throughout the work. That he chooses home over immortality shows just how important it is to him. The work begins by focusing on Odysseus’ home and how dire the situation is in Ithaca—he is needed there immediately. His household, as well as his country, is at risk. Yet he will be unable to make it home successfully without the help of the gods, strangers, and family. Domestic happiness won’t come easy, if at all.

I mentioned in my discussions on The Iliad that the concepts of kleos and timê drive much of what happens in that story. Kleos is still an important concept in The Odyssey but in a somewhat different fashion (which I’ll touch on later). More important is the concept of xenia, which has to do with the guest/host relationship. As the Wikipedia entry mentions, generosity and hospitality (on both sides) are required and, most importantly, it is an obligation. Zeus is the god overseeing xenia, which should let the reader know the importance placed upon it in ancient Greece. During The Odyssey, note the places where good xenia occurs as well as bad examples of it.

A work doesn’t stay relevant for thousands of years simply on hospitality and struggles to get home, no matter how cool the monsters or stratagems may be. There are deeper themes present that make the work timeless. The one I probably enjoyed most the first time I read it was that of identity. “Who am I?” is a question that has to be answered many times throughout the book. The obvious examples are during Odysseus’ or Telemachus’ visits when it comes time to answer the hosts' question. Subtler examples permeate the work, such as Penelope and her status. Is she a widow? Is she still married? The answer to those questions has radically different implications. Telemachus has the same problem, with adolescent angst thrown in for good measure. In finding who he is, he strengthens his role within the family and his understanding of his parents. Masks can be worn before and during revelations, not just by the gods but by human characters as well. Not only can the question “Who am I?” be difficult to answer, self-discovery can be a painful or complicated process. Kleos plays a role here as well. Odysseus desires to make himself and his exploits known, sometimes with unintended results. The journey Odysseus undergoes leads him not just physically back to his household but also prepares him to successfully head it.

There are more themes running throughout The Odyssey and the last one I'll mention runs throughout the whole work, so much so that it can be easy to miss. Almost everyone in the story is searching or longing for something. Home, rest, resolution, a husband, to be left alone…the list goes on and on. The thing desired seems to constantly elude the searcher. Obstacles can be forceful (monsters, suitors) or subtle (Nausicaa, the Lotus Eaters), physical as well as emotional (such as temptations weakening the spirit to continue).

Before ending the introduction, let’s back up a step and look at the purpose of the work. Stories like The Odyssey were meant for entertainment but they were also cultural touchstones, giving moral guidance to the listeners. For example, both successful and disastrous homecomings are illustrated in the work. What makes homecomings successful? Why do other homecomings fail? What lesson would the Greeks draw from these differences? In instances of good xenia and bad xenia, what are the differing outcomes? What does it take for a successful home? What happens to those that exhibit excessive greed? And so on…the story provides role models as well as examples of behavior to avoid.

One other point that is easy to forget. The Odyssey was originally an oral work…listen to it. Even in translation it is beautiful to listen to or read out loud and hear the Muse…

The Odyssey online resources

Odysseus’ travels
Picture source

Muse, speak to me now of that resourceful man
who wandered far and wide after ravaging
the sacred citadel of Troy. He came to see
many people's cities, where he learned their customs,
while on the sea his spirit suffered many torments,
as he fought to save his life and lead his comrades home.

- Book One, lines 1 – 6 (translation by Ian Johnston)

Back to the ancient Greeks, this time the story continues after the Trojan War. I first read The Odyssey about five years ago (although I do remember reading a condensed version of some of the events in junior high school). I’ll be interested to see what changes in re-reading it. There is a wealth of information online regarding The Odyssey, so I’ll keep the list short but try to highlight sites that have additional links.

My post on The Iliad’s online resources

Ian Johnston has one of my favorite sites to visit. With his translation of The Odyssey, his lecture on the work, and his curricular material covering ancient Greece, I could end the post knowing the basics (and then some) have been covered.

Samuel Butler’s translation can be downloaded at Librivox

For those too busy to read or listen to the complete work, here is a 10-second adaptation of The Odyssey (by Greg & Myles McLeod, courtesy of the BBC)

Wikipedia’s page on The Odyssey

An ancient Greece index

Greek mythology at the Encyclopedia Mythica


Odyssey Convocation Lectures at Reed College

A virtual Odyssey at ThinkQuest.org

Yale-New Haven Teachers Institute has two teacher’s guides to The Odyssey:
A View of The Odyssey by Anna K. Baker, and
The Odyssey: A Deeper Appreciation by Marie L. Fadus

And once again, links, links and more links at maholo.com

Tracy Marks has what looks to be a good index of Greek mythology and literature. Resources for The Odyssey are included.
Here is the beginning of his online journal on The Odyssey.

Robert Fagles talks about his translation of The Odyssey on PBS’ NewsHour and answers some questions in their online forum. He also had an interview with The Paris Review.

Clicking on the Past

Picture source
(Archimedes: The Palimpsest Project)

Last Friday, The Wall Street Journal had an article on the trove of ancient manuscripts being found or salvaged using new technologies. Also, many manuscripts are being digitized and posted online. Since I can't find the article online, I’ll pass on the links mentioned.

The British Library

Key works:
Mozart’s thematic catalogue
“This manuscript is Mozart's record of his compositions in the last seven years of his life”

The Leonardo notebook
“The notebook was not originally a bound volume, but was put together after Leonardo's [da Vinci] death from loose papers of various types and sizes. Many of the pages were written in 1508; others come from different periods in Leonardo's life, covering practically the whole of his career. The range of subjects - from mechanics to the flight of birds - demonstrates Leonardo's almost compulsive intellectual curiosity about scientific and technical matters.”

Jane Austen's The History of England
The History of England is an early work of Jane Austen. She completed the composition in November 1791 when she was just 15 years old. Jane Austen's History is a lively parody which makes fun of the standard schoolroom books of the time, in particular Oliver Goldsmith's popular four-volume History of England from the Earliest Times to the Death of George II (1771).

The library’s virtual book list.


The Library of Congress, “American Memory”

Objects in The Alfred Whital Stern Collection of Lincolniana, including contents of Lincoln’s pockets on the night he was shot (a Confederate $5 bill?).

“This collection offers access to the four Walt Whitman Notebooks and a cardboard butterfly that disappeared from the Library of Congress in 1942. They were returned on February 24, 1995.”

Voices from the Days of Slavery
“The almost seven hours of recorded interviews presented here took place between 1932 and 1975 in nine Southern states. Twenty-three interviewees, born between 1823 and the early 1860s, discuss how they felt about slavery, slaveholders, coercion of slaves, their families, and freedom.”


The World Digital Library

This oracle bone from around 1200 B.C. contains 24 characters in four groups in a vigorous and strong style, typical of the Bin group of diviners in the reign of Wu Ding (circa 1200-1189 B.C.). It records the gods of the four directions and of the four winds

Declaration of Intention to become an American citizen for Albert Einstein

“In this manuscript, enscribed Cadiz, Spain, November 20, 1493, Christopher Columbus describes the new lands he has discovered, which he calls the East Indies.”


Digitization projects

Archimedes: The Palimpsest Project
“This thirteenth century prayer book contains erased texts that were written several centuries earlier still. These erased texts include two treatises by Archimedes that can be found nowhere else, The Method and Stomachion.”

Papyrology at Oxford
Three sites in one:
• Oxyrhynchus site (collection of ancient papyri)
• Reception of Greek Literature 300 BC-AD 800
• Herculaneum site

"Codex Sinaiticus, a manuscript of the Christian Bible written in the middle of the fourth century, contains the earliest complete copy of the Christian New Testament.”

Eugene Onegin summary

The Duel between Onegin and Lensky (1901) by Ilya Repin
Picture source

the ache/toská: No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom, skuka

- from Vladimir Nabokov's commentary on Eugene Onegin

I watched a version of Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin and enjoyed it. Unfortunately that’s about all I can say…I just don’t get opera. The oldest boy did ask to watch “the movie where they sing the story” one night, so maybe the kids will appreciate it more than me. What I found interesting was how a slight change of emphasis at the end makes a world of difference. Pushkin highlights Onegin’s diminution over the last chapter, stopping just as he is about to be discovered by Tatyana’s husband—you anticipate further humiliation. Tchaikovsky leaves Onegin alone on stage, focusing on his despair. One of the last words he sings is toská, for which I’ve provided Nabokov’s multi-layered explanation above. Both are powerful endings but in completely different ways. (In the original opera version, the ending had Gremin catch Tatyana and Onegin together. Onegin leaves vowing to seek death. Tchaikovsky changed the ending before its professional debut.)

It shouldn’t take two months to write up Eugene Onegin, yet it did. The more I delved into it the more I enjoyed it. Pushkin’s style is very light and breezy, but his economy hides a depth of meaning and references. I’m fascinated by the response to the characters. Onegin’s rejection of Tatyana should endear him to the reader, yet it doesn’t. He has done the right thing and saved her from unhappiness (at least in theory), but his shallow self-righteousness turns the reader permanently against him as does treating Tatyana as just another plaything. He realizes his mistake and condemns Tatyana to a different hell. Both characters are doomed regardless of what Tatyana chooses at the end.

Below are a list of links on Eugene Onegin, Pushkin, and a few of his other works:

Online resources for Pushkin and Eugene Onegin

Eugene Onegin discussion: Chapters 1 – 4
Eugene Onegin discussion: Chapters 5 – 8

Onegin (1999 film)

A tie-in between Pushkin, Repin, and Babel
A shortened version on Byron’s influence on Pushkin
Pushkin on Count M.S. Vorontosov
Discussion on Pushkin’s Mozart and Salieri
Pushkin’s poem “I Loved You Once” and Joseph Brodsky’s similar poem

Eugene Onegin discussion: Chapters 5 – 8

Ball at Larins by Alexei Steipanovitch Stepanov (1911)
Picture source

Whatever in this rough confection
you sought - tumultuous recolleciton,
a rest from the toil and all its aches,
or just grammatical mistakes,
a vivid brush, a witty rattle -
God grant that from this little book
for heart's delight, or fun, you took,
for dreams, or journalistic battle,
God grant you took at least a grain.
On this we'll part; goodbye again!

(Chapter 8, xlix)

The second half…

Chapter 5 begins with a celebration of Russia, even its harsh winter. Noting the winter scene just described may be too “low and unrefined” for the reader, the narrator relays the Larins’ (and especially Tatyana’s) reliance on divinations and superstition. The rustic life may be low, but it feels more real than the city life Onegin lived. As Tatyana sleeps, her dream is easily the most disturbing and surreal part of the book (and could support a post or dissertation of its own). The troubling atmosphere within Tatyana’s psyche is reflected in the hallucination, Tatyana being threatened by horrific characters and beasts. Onegin is in her dream, at first reassuring her but then taking on some of the troubling aspects of the beasts. As the scene descends into violence, Tatyana wakes up having glimpsed a portent of what will happen. It’s funny to note that reading is the one thing that comforts her from the haunting vision.

Pushkin’s love/hate feelings about the countryside are most evident in his description of Tatyana’s name day celebration. The tender-hearted bumpkins are lovingly described, a pleasant earthiness to their manner and behavior. Yes, the party isn’t the same as one of the Petersburg parties that Onegin attended in Chapter One, but is that a bad thing? Lensky and Onegin enter the party late and are seated across from Tatyana. She lowers her eyes and trembles, but Onegin misreads the reason. Her reaction is because of him, but not for him. However he thinks she is yet another sad girl trembling for him and decides to stir things up at the party. Targeting Olga and Lensky says a lot about him, as he decides to undermine love between others.

Even so, Onegin does exhibit kindness in showing he was capable of pity, assisting Tatyana with a tender look when she stumbled during his acknowledgment in front of the party. Anything pleasant to be said about him ends with that gesture as Onegin dances and flirts with Olga the rest of the evening. At one point he is forced to choose between Tatyana and her sister, selecting to continue dancing with Olga. While he is simply toying with Olga (and Lensky), the irony is that she reads nothing into it beyond simple pleasantries—it makes little difference to her. But it enrages Lensky, scheduled to be married to Olga in less than two weeks. Lensky leaves the party, deciding on a duel to settle his damaged pride. An additional irony is that words fail the supposed poet Lensky, who chooses hazardous action instead of finding out what is behind Onegin’s actions or Olga’s acceptance. Up to this point, Lensky has represented the innocence lost in Onegin, but now the poet loses that virtue as well as his ability to communicate.

Onegin’s actions set off a chain of events in Chapter 6 that seem to harm everyone. Onegin, seeing Lensky has left, feels nothing but a tedium and languor—even in victory, the stakes were so low that his “pleasure on his vengeful act” bores him. Tatyana’s jealousy of her sister leads to her realization that she is still at Onegin’s mercy. Apparently Onegin cannot achieve sustained happiness so he decide to cause unhappiness in others. Another bad choice makes the fatal outcome inevitable—Lensky’s choice of Zaretsky as his second. Zaretsky is described as the “king of brawls”, well versed in the language and steps of a duel. Zaretsky fails to follow through on one of the basic roles of a second, which is to attempt to reconcile the dueling parties (something he is praised for having done with many others). Onegin regrets making fun of a “love so timorous and gentle”, yet does nothing to mitigate the damage he has caused. Lensky also regrets his actions, yet he is resolved to duel…apparently not to reclaim his honor but to protect Olga and other women from Onegin. Lensky attempts to write a poem, which is eloquent but not very original. His letter is a compendium of romantic notions and phrases, which he can commit to paper while he is unable to speak to Olga—he realizes her dancing with Onegin was innocent, but he lacks the ability to reconcile his relief with the avenging actions he has set in motion.

The duel follows with a dreamlike feeling. Onegin offends Lensky in every way possible—oversleeping, choosing a servant as a second, and more. Does he not take the duel seriously? Or does he think that it is an act that will not be carried out, or simply theater? Zaretsky makes sure the duel occurs. Lensky is shot in the chest, blood “smoking from the wound.” The narrator muses on what would have happened had Lensky lived: “A normal fate” would have awaited him, a less than pleasant description of that potential life that might have followed. Was it a loss that he died, or was it saving him from an ignoble life? The narrator reflects on time and aging, revealing he (the narrator) has matured, yet seeking the inspiration of youth. The “poet’s soul of passion” is not necessarily for the young, yet inspiration is described as a youthful feature. This just after the youthful passion of Lensky leads to his death…one of too many ironies to list. With Lensky’s death, the narrator draws symmetry between Onegin and the poet, highlighting similarities that can easily be overlooked because of their differences.

Chapter 7 sees an explicit shift in roles between Tatyana and Onegin. The narrator’s feeling of exile reflects not just Onegin’s self-banishment but Pushkin’s enforced exile as well. The chapter mirrors the first chapter of Onegin’s meaningless life in Petersburg, but in reverse. Olga’s brief period of mourning for Lensky is quickly followed by her marriage to a low level soldier. Her lack of depth reminds the reader that Onegin was correct—a poet would prefer her sister instead. Images of death flow throughout the chapter, such as Tatyana’s “shade-like” existence. She visits Onegin’s empty estate, exploring his library. His works reflect a different world than the romance novels she has read and it is as if she is trying to absorb and understand Onegin from the works he owned. In reading his books, she reads not just the story but Onegin as well, his notations providing additional insight. Yet the emptiness of Onegin and his life is revealed to Tatyana as literature guides her to knowledge and understanding. If only Onegin had absorbed as much from his reading. Not to mention who Onegin shows as his influences with prominent artwork of Lord Byron and Napoleon in his library.

Mirroring Onegin’s move to the country Tatyana moves to Moscow, her family guiding her through the protocol of finding a spouse in the city. Like Onegin she does not seem to belong in either the city or the country, yet her parting gestures show a tie to the forest (and symbolically to Russia) that lies at her core. The emptiness of Moscow’s social life echoes Onegin’s purposelessness in Petersburg society. Yet Tatyana grows during the chapter while Onegin, absent for the most part, diminishes. As we are introduced to Tatyana’s “fat general” (or future husband) the narrator provides a (false) introduction to the work while begging the muse to not allow any more diversions in his story. A little late for that at this point (recalling Sterne’s gift for misplacement), but at least is isn’t at the reader’s loss…

Chapter 8 does more than just invoke the muse, turning the Muse into a character. After a brief history of the narrator and his muse, the action returns to Tatyana in Moscow society (while a blending of Tatyana and his Muse is unavoidable to the reader). She is stately, mastering social requirements but not fully a part of what goes on around her. Onegin returns to the story, not fitting in to his surroundings as well. Those that see him are puzzled: “ ‘You know him, do you?’ ‘Yes and no.”” (8, viii) Which implies that Onegin is unknowable, restless for change where ever he goes. Onegin asks the “fat general” (now described as a prince) if who he sees is Tatyana. Shocked when he hears that she is now the prince’s wife, he is “introduced” to her. The transformation of Tatyana is complete at this point: she is described in icy, cold terms as opposed to her earlier fire. In addition, she demonstrates the self-control Onegin once counseled her to learn. After the icy meeting, Onegin wonders what ails him (love described as an illness again). This is a new sensation for him…he doesn’t recognize what it is at first.

Arriving early to a soiree hosted by the prince and Tatyana, Onegin sits with her but “words won’t fit / on Eugene’s lips” (8, xxii), reminiscent of “language dying” at their previous meeting. It is interesting to note how many times characters are unable to speak and the implied cost of that inability. Onegin’s diminution continues as he silently pines for Tatyana (and what the narrator feels she represents):

But my Eugene that night directed
his gaze at Tatyana alone –
not the plain, timorous, dejected
and lovelorn maiden whom he’d known,
but the unbending goddess-daughter
of Neva’s proud imperial water,
the imperturbable princess. (8, xxvii)

The roles are reversed from Onegin’s first visit to the Larins, where he claimed not to even remember which sister was which. Tatyana “refuses to perceive him”, causing Onegin in turn to write a letter to her. Just as she put herself in his hands with her letter to him, Onegin bares his soul to her. While his letter is slightly more proper than hers, it also feels soulless in comparison. He is approaching self-awareness, recognizing his earlier desire of freedom drove him to reject her. Yet the estrangement he feels from society since the duel with Lensky (of which Onegin paints himself as the victim)has deepened. The ultimate irony of the letter is how much it resembles Tatyana’s unsuccessful missive, a fact that cannot be lost on her. In one sense, its failure is but a rehashing of her letter’s failure.

Tatyana does not reply to his letter so Onegin sends more. She presents her frostiest demeanor to him at their next meeting as he looks with “eyes of fire”, more contrasts to earlier symbolism. He turns to books, but he is unable to glean anything from them. While he looks the part of the poet, he is unable to become one. (On a side note, his poetic intuition is superior to that of any other character, yet along with every other talent he shows he short sells it.) Onegin can take no more and goes to Tatyana’s house, slipping in unannounced (as only happens in a novel…I have a feeling Pushkin smiled as he wrote these lines). Onegin throws himself at her feet when he sees her reading his letters and crying. But the tables are fully turned. (Is this the only point in the book where she directly speaks to Onegin privately? I believe it is—the name day party address was in front of everyone.) She lectures him on propriety, absolving his previous rejection since he acted, yet excoriating him for his current lack of respect. She questions his motives—is he interested because she is in society now? Her access to the court? Or does he simply want another scandal? She sounds surprisingly like Onegin at one point, revealing how much she hates her life and how she would trade it all for a cottage with a library and garden. But recognizing she has committed herself, even though she still loves Onegin, she declares her intention to stay faithful to her husband. With that, all ties to the past are formally severed. As Tatyana leaves the room, Onegin is unable to move, thunderstruck from the lecture he has just received. And at that moment, Tatyana’s husband appears… .

The ending may be abrupt, but it leaves no doubt that Onegin has reached full diminishment. Three additional stanzas follow (which include the quotes at the top and bottom of the post), the narrator musing on his creations and the problems with his work’s reception. Does the reader know Onegin after finishing the work? Like the characters in the book said, “Yes and no.” To some extent, we may know Pushkin better than Onegin—a work in which the poet is murdered by a perceived rival foreshadows his own death. While that may be an easy interpretation after the fact, so is the split between Pushkin’s own nature represented by both Lensky and Onegin. What we do see, without having to read anything into the story, is the maturation of Pushkin across the decade that Eugene Onegin appeared. The latter chapters capture him at the height of his creative talent. Which I think would make Eugene Onegin proud of his creator…

Eugene Onegin and Vladimir Lensky's duel (1899) by Ilya Repin
Picture source

Blest he who's left the hurly-burly
of life's repast betimes, nor sought
to drain its goblet down, nor thought
of finishing its book, but early
has wished it an abrupt goodbye -
as, with my Eugene, have I.

(Chapter 8, li)