Emily Wilson and translating The Odyssey

I have yet to read Emily Wilson's translation of The Odyssey, but I fully intend to soon. In the meantime I have been keeping up with her Twitter account @EmilyRCWilson, where she selects passages from the poem and compares various translations and explains why she chose the words/phrases she did for these selections. It's a great look behind the curtain as she

comments on how translators such as George Chapman (1615), Alexander Pope (1725), T.E. Lawrence (1932), Robert Fitzgerald (1961), Richmond Lattimore (1965), Robert Fagles (1996), Stanley Lombardo (2000), and Stephen Mitchell (2013) have interpreted different words, phrases, and concepts from the original Greek into English.

The quote is from the page at her site that gathers the various tweets on each passage and her comments. If you have any interest in The Odyssey, these threads are essential reading. As Dan Chiasson put it in his article at The New Yorker, Wilson is "The Classics Scholar Redefining What Twitter Can Do."

There are many articles mentioned at Wilson's home page, but I want to link to a few I found helpful.

• Ben Shields' article at Book forum, Minds of the Immortals: Emily Wilson on translating "The Odyssey," is a great overview of Wilson and the book.
• Amy Brady's article How Emily Wilson Translated ‘The Odyssey’ in the Chicago Review of Books includes an interview of Wilson, including a section on why she felt another translation was needed.
• Gregory Hays book review at The New York Times
• BBC Radio3 had a program titled Landmark: The Odyssey, where Wilson joins Amit Chaudhuri, Karen McCarthy Woolf, and Daniel Mendelsohn in discussing the poem.
• Wilson's department has listed online recognitions of her translation

The Lost Books of The Lost Books of the Odyssey

I originally included Yasuko Taoka’s paper “A Liar’s Yarn: Storytelling in The Lost Books of the Odyssey” as an update to my post on the book. Now that I have a copy of the first edition from Starcherone Books I realize both the paper and the first edition of the book deserve their own post. Taoka’s paper, adapted from a speech she made, provides a lot of material on the differences between the two editions, focusing on the parts of the first edition that adds to the overall structure and meaning of the book.

The second edition of the book, published by Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, made some major changes from the first edition. Taoko’s second footnote covers the bulk of the modifications:

Changes include the addition of two chapters (“No Man’s Wife” and “Epigraph”), the deletion of the Introduction, Appendix, and three chapters (“After Coming Home,” Fox,” and “Endless City”), and the transposition of three chapters (“Sad Revelation,” “Fireworks,” and “Record of a Game”). In general the second edition creates more continuity between chapters, and eliminates the mathematical superstructure borrowed from Italo Calvino’s Invisible Cities.

Also included at the end of the book’s first edition, along with the typesetting information, is the Author Biography:

Zachary Mason was educated at Trinity College, the University of Michigan, and the Sorbonne. He is currently the John Shade Professor of Archaeocryptography and Paleomathmematics at Magdalen College, Osford. He divides his time between Oxford and the Greek island Ogygia. He lives with his cats, Talleyrand and Penthesilia.

If the Nabokov reference doesn’t bring a smile to your face, this book isn’t for you. In the paper Taoka spends a lot of time explaining how the final chapter, “Endless City,” works, both from the organizational standpoint (encapsulating previous chapters while continuing the narrative) and the looping, Mobius-strip like framework. It’s a helpful explanation that shows how the chapter should be read.

Taoka also touches on the imagery in the book that graphically depicts what Mason does narratively in the book. The introduction goes into detail on how the lost books were translated using a combination of keys—Taoka ties the names used in titles to chapters of Calvino’s Invisible Cities as decoding keys (see footnote 12). There is so much wonderful stuff going on in these books that it’s helpful to have a guide. I highly recommend the paper and the original edition of the book, especially for anyone that enjoyed the FS&G edition.

Solzhenitsyn, the Iliad

I have joked about 2012 being "The Year of the Doorstop" because of the size of the books I've read and plan to read before the end of the year. 2013 will probably prove to be a sequel: "Year of the Doorstop, Part 2," if my plans hold. One of my intended reads is the entire Gulag Archipelago by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. I first read the series when I was a teenager, which means that comprehension and retention were almost nonexistent. I also have the benefit now of Anne Applebaum's remarkable book Gulag: A History.

For those not wanting to tackle three lengthy volumes of Solzhenitsyn's work may be interested in an excerpt from the introduction by Natalia Solzhenitsyn to the abridged version published in Russia in 2010. There's also a supposed introduction to Natalia Solzhenitsyn (although there's little about her). I'm hoping this means the abridged version will be available in English before too long

Speaking of doorstops, in the same issue at the same site is a look at three recent releases of the Iliad: two recent translations by Anthony Verity and Stephen Mitchell plus "Richmond Lattimore’s 1951 translation of the Iliad, which has just been re-issued (without alteration, but supplemented with maps, notes, and a useful introduction by Richard Martin." Looks like I may have at least one more addition to next year's plans from this trio.

Update (5 Oct 2012): Even more on the Iliad, including a look the new translations as well as many older ones.

Upcoming at Reading Odyssey: Homer's Iliad

First up in 2012 at Reading Odyssey is Homer's Iliad. Based on my experience with The Landmark Arrian: The Campaigns of Alexander this year, I highly recommend exploring the Iliad through Reading Odyssey. The conference calls proved to be exceedingly informative (see this post for a sampling of the Arrian calls) and the discussion questions provided a helpful framework to read the book. Like any other worthwhile endeavor, you'll get out of it what you put into it (yes, I just turned into my parents...again) and I found the group helped maximize both sides of that equation.

Follow the opening link for registration information. If you have any questions about my experience with Arrian, feel free to leave a question in the comments or email me.

Update: From the reading group email:

Just a reminder that Reading Odyssey is forming reading groups for Homer's Iliad (Stanley Lombardo translation). We will hold three conference calls from January to March and cap it off with a special "visit" by Paul Cartledge. If you are interested, please look for more information on the Reading Odyssey website.

An Iliad

Many thanks to Sheila O'Malley at The Sheila Variations for posting on the stage play An Iliad, playing at The Court Theatre in Chicago. There are more video excerpts on YouTube (see the links shown at the end of the clip) about the play, definitely worth checking out.

Sheila links to a review by Chris Jones in the Chicago Tribune:

And thus this Poet makes very clear that while he is talking about one specific, 10-year conflict, the reason for such fights does not change with the passing years. "Helen's been stolen," he says, setting up his big tale. "And the Greeks have to get her back. There's always something, isn't there?"

Indeed there is always something. Usually some kind of personal affront. And just in case you still don't get that point, Kane's Poet rattles off a bravura list of pretty much every major war in the world from Troy to Afghanistan (Crimean, Mexican War of Independence, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera). In that moment — by far the most remarkable of a consistently fascinating evening — Kane's lips start to move as if he were in the middle of an exorcism.

The Lost Books of the Odyssey discussion

The Lost Books of the Odyssey by Zachary Mason
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 240 pages, $24.00
ISBN: 9780374192150

Steven Riddle at A Momentary Taste of Being gave this book a high recommendation and since I re-read The Odyssey lately (or so it seems to me) I thought I would check this book out from the library when it became available. I’m glad I did.

The Lost Books of the Odyssey purports to be just as the name implies—books or fragments that did not make it into the final version of The Odyssey. A chapter may have one item changed and the reader sees the cascading effect emanating from that change. Or the chapter may be told from the perspective of a different character in the epic, with or without changes. Or it may be a complete re-imagining of what “really” took place and how the epic we now read came into being. The scope isn’t limited to The Odyssey since many scenes from The Iliad and other mythic tales are included, but they usually come back to how the alternate version impacts Odysseus.

Like Mr. Riddle, I resisted the book at first. My wife asked, when I was starting the second chapter, what I was reading. “Einstein’s Dreams meets Homer,” was the easiest way for me to describe it (although I could have just as easily said Borges or Gaiman). Which it is, but at the same time it is so much more. Following what was common and contradictory between the different scenarios intrigued me and I, like Mr. Riddle, was won over by the sheer cleverness of the scenarios. My favorite chapter was The Iliad of Odysseus, a re-imagining of the Trojan War if Odysseus was a reluctant leader and warrior, yearning rather to be a bard. He gets his wish after taking matters into his own hands regarding Helen and sets the deciding conflict into motion. After performing as a bard for ten years around the Mediterranean, shaping the stories that became The Odyssey (becoming Homer in a sense), he returns home to Ithaca and enjoys hearing other bards sing of his alleged exploits. While these stories mock what really occurred, Odysseus rationalizes “What good is the truth when those who were there are dead or scattered?”, completely undermining the concept of kleos.

Zachary Mason, a computer scientist and mathematician here in Silicon Valley, has created alternate worlds where “Every event is the cause of myriad effects”. While written in prose, the economy of language and descriptive vocabulary can make the chapters feel like poetry at times. As Mr. Riddle points out, you can read this as deeply or lightly as you like, either way will provide much enjoyment.

For some quotes from the appendix of the first version of the book (the current publication by FSG could be called version 2.0), see the Math Fiction Site. Most reviews of the book, such as this one contain a history of the odyssey of the book’s publication. Whichever version is available to you, I recommend it.

Update: For a more detailed look at the book, see the review by biblioklept.

Update (5 Nov 2012): For more on the novel, different versions of the book, and excised chapters in the FS&G version read A Liar's Yarn: Storytelling in the Lost Books of the Odyssey by Yasuko Taoka. Highly recommended.

The Odyssey summary

Odysseus and Circe
by Bartholomäus Spranger
Picture source

Of all the things that breathe
and move along the ground, Earth does not raise
anything more insignificant than man.
He thinks he'll never suffer any harm
in days to come, as long as gods provide
prosperity and his knees stay supple.
But when blessed gods bring on misfortunes,
he bears those, too, though much against his will.
The father of gods and men brings men the days
which shape the spirit of earth's inhabitants.
Among men I was set to be successful, too,
but, yielding to my strength and power,
I did many reckless things. I trusted
my father and my family. So no man
should ever practise any lawlessness.
He should hold his gifts from gods in silence,
whatever they give.

- Book XVIII, lines 166 - 193 (Translation by Ian Johnston)

The Odyssey online resources

The Odyssey discussion:
Introduction
Books I - IV
Books V - VIII
Books IX - XII
Books XIII - XVI
Books XVII - XX
Books XXI - XXIV


Other posts:

From Zeus to Seuss--Brian Boyd’s On the Origin of Stories: Evolution, Cognition, and Fiction

Thoughts on The Iliad and The Odyssey, memory

The Iliad summary

Update: Comments on Zachary Mason's The Lost Books of the Odyssey

Picture source

The Iliad and The Odyssey, memory

Some stray thoughts on The Odyssey…

The first thought has to do with the similarities and differences to The Iliad as well as references to the Trojan War in The Odyssey. Both works look at mortality and man’s need to accept it. Achilles, when presented with a choice of fates, initially chooses a long life. Unable to accept Patroclus’ death, however, he defaults to the other fate—a shortened life with great honor. One of the most moving scenes in The Odyssey is Achilles’ shade in Hades, lamenting that he should have chosen life even if it meant being the servant of a poor man. On a side note, I can overlook many of the discrepancies in Book XXIV, but not the conversation between the shades of Achilles and Agamemnon. Having Achilles tell Agamemnon that he should have died in Trojan land when he had his full honor completely undermines the power of his earlier lament.

Odysseus is presented with the chance of immortality (directly contravening his fate) by Calypso, but he does not accept the offer. He accepts his own mortality, which is the pivotal factor in his return home. The exile of Achilles and Odysseus ties into the mortality issue as well. Achilles sets himself apart from those around him, first when his honor is wounded and then in his manner of fighting after Patroclus’ death. Only when he reconciles with Priam does he embrace community again as well as mortality. Odysseus has been exiled by the gods, but it is his own humanity that he has to accept. I mentioned earlier that I (partially) like the framework that others use in likening Odysseus’ physical journey to his change from warrior to the head of his household. The assumption underlying this framework moves him from the amorality of war (with its own code) to the human community, based on law and order. Except… That is not what he finds at home. His home is in disarray because there is no law and order. He must fight, just as violently and amorally as he did in Troy, to restore that order. If anything, The Odyssey shows that man has to balance both roles simultaneously. The sanctity of the home and its values are lost if not guarded. Part of being a member of the human community includes acknowledging and confronting human frailty, whether it is moral or physical.

The second thought has to do with how the Trojan War is referred to in The Odyssey. We see Penelope and Odysseus weep when Phemius and Demodocus sing about the war or their return home. Nestor and Menelaus lament about the losses that were caused by the war, which essentially boils down to reclaiming a wayward wife. While Penelope and others realize Helen’s actions were driven by the gods, she is still front and center for blame. “Many died for Helen’s sake” is not something anyone would want pinned on them. The Iliad mentions the costs of the war many times, such as when a soldier would die and Homer details his family’s loss, for example. But The Odyssey highlights the costs even more. Penelope’s comments on the “disastrous folly” of going to “wicked Ilion” are not uncommon from many of the characters. The shades of the warriors in Hades (at least in Book XI) may talk of past glories on the battlefield, but not necessarily in a wistful manner. Their longing is clearly to be alive again. One last thought on the war—when Odysseus relays his adventures to Penelope, only the events after the war are mentioned. The implication is that she already knows about the war, but he has nothing to say about it from his perspective? It’s a small event, but it might be emblematic of the desired distance between war and home.

The third thought has to do with memory in The Odyssey. Memory works in many ways within the text, several of which I won’t explore. One idea revolves around how an individual is remembered, the glory they receive from others. The fear of being forgotten drives many of the actions of the characters—it is the only way they exist in the land of the living after their death. But the approach I want to look at a little more centers on an individual’s own memory—memory of home and their past. As I’ve mentioned before, the dangers during Odysseus’ journey come in both active (external) and passive (internal) forms. One of the passive dangers comes in the form of temptation to abandon his return home, which confronts him often: Circe, Calypso, the Lotus Eaters, and the Sirens all entice him to stay with them. Thoughts of home and his return drive Odysseus through these temptations. The symbolism of Circe’s magic explicitly provides a message—lost memory of home is the equivalent of being nothing more than an animal. Lost sense of self is a type of death, possibly not that much different than that of a shade in Hades.

Not that memory automatically provides comfort. Helen drugs the wine because she knew that talking about the Trojan War would be painful. But the alternative, forgetting one’s past, provides its own pain. While not trying to read too much into it, the recent case of Robert Jeangerard confirms yet again the cruelty of Alzheimer’s disease and other diseases that rob individuals of their memory. The case was a reminder that (as The Odyssey points out) we cannot avoid physical death but the loss of memory and of self are a type of living death.

Update (2 Jan 2013): A slightly different take, but also tied into loss of memory and self: Amnesia and the Self That Remains When Memory Is Lost

The Odyssey discussion: Books XXI - XXIV

Odysseus' Palace
According to Johann Heinrich Voss (1820)
Picture source (scroll to bottom)

Let Death come down to slavish souls and craven heads
with his sharp scythe and barren bones, but let him come
to this lone man like a great lord to knock with shame
on his five famous castle doors, and with great awe
plunder whatever dregs that in his sturdy body still
have not found time, in its great fight, to turn from flesh
and bone into pure spirit, lightning, joy, and deeds.
The archer has fooled you, Death, he’s squandered all your goods,
melted down all the rusts and rots of his foul flesh
till they escaped you in pure spirit, and when you come,
you’ll find but trampled fires, embers, ash, and fleshly dross.

from The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel by Nikos Kazantzakis (translated by Kimon Friar), Book XXIII, lines 27 - 37

The final four books of The Odyssey see the killing of the suitors as well as Odysseus’ reunions with Penelope and Laertes. Even with what will (I'm sure) turn into an extra-long post, I’ll still only scratch the surface of these four books, choosing a few topics to highlight.

Telemachus
Telemachus establishes himself in these books. He is forward in addressing the suitors and his mother, astonishing and impressing everyone with his change in behavior. It appears he could have strung his father’s bow, but with a quick glance from his father he realizes the role he must play. He demonstrates how resourceful he can by playing up his youth and inexperience at his "failed" attempt. In addition to the trip he made at Athena’s prompting, he now has Odysseus as an example and role model, something he hasn’t had (other than through hearsay) for twenty years. His maturation seems complete during the slaughter of the suitors, both in his fighting ability and his shouldering of responsibility. When Melanthius finds the storeroom and supplies the suitors with armor, Odysseus suspects one of his servants. Yet Telemachus mans up for his mistake about not locking the storeroom door.

Ambiguity and Irony
In Penelope’s guarded reactions to the apparent return of Odysseus, I think we see that she does not hold the thought that the beggar is Odysseus. She may suspect it, but her comment that she is suspicious of trickery seems to ring true throughout the work. Up to that point, however, we have several ambiguous actions on her part which questions what she really believes. One example is when Penelope weeps as she holds Odysseus’ bow. Is she crying because of grief for Odysseus' loss or at his upcoming danger? Her double-edged reply to the suitors’ complaints about the beggar trying to win the contest adds to the ambiguity: “And if, trusting in his strength and power, / the stranger strings Odysseus’ great bow, / do you think he’ll take me to his home / and make me his wife?” (Book XXI, lines 396 – 399: all quotes are from Ian Johnston’s translation) This rings true whether it is a beggar or if it is Odysseus. If Odysseus, he is already home and Penelope already is his wife.

Irony continues to run throughout the work as well. The scene of the contest shows the suitors handling the bow that will kill many of them, treating it and preparing it for Odysseus and their own slaughter. Antinous adds to the irony in chastising another suitor, saying he acts “as if this bow would, / in fact, take away the lives and spirits / of the very finest men, just because / you couldn’t string it.” (Book XXI, lines 209 – 212) The action plays out just as his mocking statement inadvertently foretells. We saw Telemachus return to Ithaca and the hero’s welcome he receives from Penelope and the servants, even though he was just going in search of information. At the end of Book XXII, Odysseus is poised to receive his well-deserved welcome but only the servants (at least the ones not castrated or hanged) provide such a welcome. He still has to go through an additional test from Penelope before he receives a subdued (but tender) welcome from her.

Continuation of the tests
Odysseus asks two of the herders that have prayed for his return (Eumaeus and Philoetius) whose side they would fight on if Odysseus returned. The testing of loyalty is much more forward in this section. There are subtle moments, such as Penelope’s testing of Odysseus through the bed trick. Even Athena tests Odysseus and Telemachus, helping in the slaughter of the suitors but only to a certain extent in order to see what the men are capable of doing. Odysseus’ lies to his father, however, seem simply cruel. Yet how do you announce yourself to your family after an absence of twenty years and especially to someone who lost his wife to the related grief?

Comedy
An underrated aspect of The Odyssey is the comedic touches, especially when they appear unexpectedly in a section where the body count is higher than most action movies. After Odysseus lists the charges against the suitors, Eurymachus replies: “But the man responsible for all this / now lies dead”. It takes effort to stifle a laugh as Eurymachus attempts to place the blame for the crimes at Antinous’ (dead) feet, trying to bribe Odysseus into letting the other suitors live.

A lot of humor flashes past in a line or two, such as the comment that the slaughtered suitors’ bodies are piled up by the courtyard gates. There has been mention of one other pile outside the palace doors (the manure pile where Argus died), and I think the comparison has to be intended.

D’oh, Brother Where Art Thou?
from The Simpson's episode Tales from the Public Domain
Picture source

Identity
The source of Odysseus’ name was revealed in Book XX: some translations have it as “rage”, others say “pain”. Both work very well in differing contexts. The rage Odysseus exhibits toward the suitors after he reveals himself sounds almost identical as that of Achilles in The Iliad. Listen to Odysseus’ response to the bribe (to let the suitors live) and judge if “rage” captures his name correctly:

"Eurymachus, if you gave me
all the goods you got from your own fathers,
everything which you now own, and added
other assets you could obtain elsewhere,
not even then would I hold back my hands
from slaughter, not until the suitors pay
for all their arrogance.

(Book XX, lines 78 – 84)

His rage only stops when Telemachus asks him to spare the lives of the minstrel and herald, which he grants. “Pain” can work well too, Odysseus' ‘toxicity’ factor I mentioned in a previous post dovetails nicely with this interpretation. He causes pain everywhere he goes, intentionally or not. Ithaca and his family are in disarray because of his journey to Troy and delayed return. Pain also ties in with his identity—the scar on his thigh, where he simultaneously caused pain (killing the boar) and received pain (from the boar’s tusks) provides the proof needed for him to be recognized by his servants.

Regarding recognition, I found it interesting that Odysseus had to provide additional information to his family beyond just the scar. Telemachus would not know anything about the scar (or at least would have never seen it), but having seen the beggar transformed in the courtyard provides verification (along with faith) for accepting his father. Penelope tests Odysseus, just as he tests others, with information that only the two of them would know. While Odysseus shows the scar to his father, he also talks about the trees Laertes promised him. The scar by itself was supplemented with additional proofs or divine help to establish his identity to his family.

After Odysseus shoots the suitor Antinous, he reveals himself to the remaining suitors. Interestingly enough, he does not say his name—in this case, he does not have to. He lists the crimes the suitors have committed against him, which more than implies who he is. Their recognition strikes fear in their hearts as they comprehend their fate.

Fate
In this section we see mortals changing their fate, but usually not for the better. Penelope reacts to the news of the suitors’ deaths saying “There was no man on this earth they honoured, / bad or good, when he came into their group. / They’ve met disaster through their foolishness.” (Book XXIII, lines 82 – 84) This theme echoes throughout The Odyssey, said by mortals and gods alike. As a reminder, Zeus’ first words (which come in the first few lines of the work) pin the blame on humans for many of their own hardships, causing tribulations that were not fated.

The ending
The ending of The Odyssey receives its fair share of criticism but I think it does a good job of tying the two halves of the book together and provides a decent attempt at resolving the loose ends. Part of the problem is the brevity—attempting to tackle these tasks in just over a book when we have spent four books on Telemachus’ journey, eight books on Odysseus’ wanderings, and eleven books on Odysseus’ return and revenge. To tie all of this together to end it properly would take far more than 700 lines. Penelope’s recognition and acceptance that the stranger in front of her is Odysseus turns his previous struggles, from the first half of the book, into her joy with a wonderful simile:

Just as it's a welcome sight for swimmers
when land appears, men whose well-constructed ship
Poseidon has demolished on the sea, as winds
and surging waves were driving it, and a few men
have swum to shore, escaping the grey sea,
their bodies thickly caked with brine, and they climb
gladly up on land, evading that disaster,
that how Penelope rejoiced to see her husband.

(Book XXIII, lines 302-309)

I think it is a great way to highlight the multiple levels involved in his journey's struggles. Also recalling the first half of the work, the audience has its second view of Hades where we see the shades of the heroes of the Trojan War conversing with the recently arrived suitors. The recap of the suitors’ and Odysseus’ actions feels unnecessary (not to mention the suitor telling the story couldn’t possibly know some of the details he relays), but Agamemnon’s reply focuses on a key message--the comparison of Penelope and Clytemnestra. The steadfastness of Penelope runs as a constant theme throughout the work, and while one more mention and comparison can seem like overkill, hearing it again from Agamemnon powerfully drives home the point. While the ending resolution between Odysseus and the suitors’ relatives feels contrived, at this point there is no rule of law other than a divine one. Any outcome will necessarily rely on the gods.

The bard
Homer adds a wonderful simile as Odysseus strings the bow:

But shrewd Odysseus,
once he'd raised the bow and looked it over
on all sides, then—just as someone really skilled
at playing the lyre and singing has no trouble
when he loops a string around a brand-new peg,
tying the twisted sheep's gut down at either end—
that's how easily Odysseus strung that great bow.
Holding it in his right hand, he tried the string.
It sang out, resonating like a swallow's song,
beneath his touch. Grief overwhelmed the suitors.
The skin on all of them changed colour.

(Book XXI, lines 312 – 322)

There have been several references to poets and performers throughout the work. Likening the minstrel to a warrior, both plying their trades skillfully, highlights the change that both performances bring forth, effectively striking the heart. There are other parts of the narrative that look directly at the audience as well as forward over the ages with a nod and a wink. The suitors and their surviving relatives mention they are concerned about being shamed, especially to generations not yet born. Homer's act of creating this epic insures their shame, but could he have suspected that it would cause enjoyment across almost three millennia?

And with that, I’ll draw the discussion on the books of The Odyssey to a close. I’m toying around with one more post on The Iliad and The Odyssey along with one theme I’d like to explore some more, but I don’t have anything beyond a vague sense of what I’m trying to say. But that's all I usually have, even as I’m hitting “publish post”, so I’ll see if I can actually put fingers to keyboard regarding those topics.

READ magazine cover for "Return of the Hero"
May 16, 1937 issue
Picture source

The Odyssey discussion: Books XVII - XX

Odysseus recognized by Euryclea
by Gustave Boulanger (1849)
Picture source

Have Ithaka always in your mind.
Your arrival there is what you are destined for.
But do not in the least hurry the journey.
Better that it last for years,
so that when you reach the island you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to give you wealth.

Ithaka gave you the splendid journey.
Without her you would not have set out.
She hasn’t anything else to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka has not deceived you.
So wise have you become, of such experience,
that already you will have understood what these Ithakas mean.

- from “Ithaka” by C. P. Cavafy

These four books follow Odysseus, disguised as a beggar, to his own palace where we see him interact with the suitors, his servants, and Penelope. A few areas that stand out, at least to me:

Telemachus’ return to the palace and the greeting he gets from the female servants and his mother serves as a stark reminder that this is the type of greeting Odysseus will not receive, at least for now. In response to their greeting, Telemachus tells his mother to pray to Zeus for retribution. Notable for its absence, he does not ask her to pray for Odysseus’ safe return since he knows it has already happened. There are several minor clues similar to this (in addition to prophecies) which lend to a wonderful ambiguity of this section, which I’ll discuss as this post moves along. In giving details of his trip, Telemachus relays Menelaus’ encounter with the Old Man of the Sea, who knew Odysseus was alive on Calypso’s island. Theoclymenus, the suppliant that Telemachus brought home from Pylos, prophesies that Odysseus is already in Ithaca, “sowing trouble for every suitor.”

A recurring theme in this section involves Odysseus continuing to determine which of his servants are loyal to him. While walking to his palace (still disguised as a beggar) with Eumaeus, Odysseus encounters the goatherder Melanthius. On top of insulting and kicking Odysseus, Melanthius curses Telemachus and wishes for him to either die or be overwhelmed by the suitors. The control Odysseus must show in order to maintain his disguise is constantly being tested by such encounters. Another test involves seeing his favorite hunting dog, Argus, on a pile of manure outside the palace. While the symbolism perfectly captures the state of the palace, the sentimentalism tugs a little too hard at the heartstrings. Odysseus has to display monumental self-control to stay in character when the suitors hurl insults and even a stool at him. Realizing the danger he is in, he is not afraid to be firm with those he can be certain are on his side. He almost strangles his nurse, Eurycleia, in order to keep her from announcing her recognition of him. A second herdsman, Philoetius, proves his kindness and loyalty and increasing the number of loyal servants.

Telemachus is being tested as well, both in the role of head of the household and in assisting Odysseus in setting the stage for revenge. In encouraging him to beg among the guests, he gives his father an opportunity to size up the suitors. Telemachus acts more and more like an adult, deliberately confronting the suitors and guiding the servants in proper behavior. He manages to have the two main suitors back him in order to manage a fair fight between his father and the beggar Irus. The authority he shows in commanding the suitors to leave for the evening astonishes them, but they do as he requests. Near the end of Book XX he forcefully reprimands the suitors again, much to their astonishment. Certain phrases he uses echo some of his father’s words.

My favorite theme in this section involves Athena egging the suitors on to their destruction. Even when a suitor may say or do something marginally humane, she continues to tempt and prod them to make sure no man would “escape destruction.” For example, some suitors reproach Antinous for throwing a stool at Odysseus, but they do nothing to end any of the abuses. Amphinomus seems to be one of the few suitors with a conscience, but even though Odysseus (as the beggar) encourages him to leave he will stay for his destruction as well. Athena really revs things up in beautifying Penelope and giving her the idea to appear before the suitors. Even though the suitors agree they should bring gifts to her, they send their heralds to do this task. Their desire is so aroused that they insist they will not leave the palace until she makes up her mind on which suitor to marry. One section near the end of this section sums up very well the game Athena has been playing with the suitors:

Once Telemachus had spoken, Pallas Athena
roused them all to laugh with no sense of control.
She unhinged their minds, so laughter from the mouths
Came from an alien source, and the meat they ate
became blood-spattered. Their eyes filled up with tears.

Book XX, lines 434 – 438
(All quotes are from Ian Johnston’s translation)

After this foreshadowing of the blood-spattered hall, Theoclymenus divines the hell the hall will become for the suitors. He, unlike the suitors, leaves the hall.

Athena may have disguised Odysseus as a beggar but the camouflage does not appear to cover everything. When Odysseus is hit by the stool thrown by Antinous or kicked by Melanthius, he does not flinch, providing hints that the “beggar” is really a sturdy, well-built fellow. This is explicitly shown in preparing for the fight with Irus (even before Athena “enlarged his limbs”). Penelope comments on the beggar’s intelligence, as well as comparing his hands and feet to those of her husband. Does she suspect the beggar is Odysseus? Eurycleia, also comments on how much the beggar looks like Odysseus (before she sees the scar).

The unresolved question of the book, as Howard Baker would say, is what does Penelope know and when did she know it? There have been hints as to the beggar being something more than he appears. And Penelope has been told several times, in prophecies and in dreams, Odysseus is in Ithaca plotting revenge against the suitors. Yet her manner swings between actions that make the most sense if she knows the beggar is Odysseus and others that make no sense in that context. Part of the tension comes from at least one servant in the room Melantho, being hostile to the beggar and sleeping with a leading suitor. The stakes of the couple’s meeting are raised because of her presence. Odysseus is skilled at telling lies that seem truthful, even to Penelope. The testing of Odysseus’ will continues as Penelope “sheds tears for her husband, / who was sitting there beside her.” As the beggar is telling Penelope that Odysseus will be home this month, he mentions that he has been detained because “to his heart it seemed a better thing / to visit many lands collecting wealth.” Not completely the truth, but neither is it a lie. This dance around the truth sums up much of the interaction between Odysseus and Penelope. For a story with the ending already foretold, the ambiguity helps build the tension nicely. The dream she asks him to interpret is one of the most straight-forward dreams ever recounted by Homer…it needs no interpretation. But she stresses the ambiguity of dreams, reinforcing the uncertainty the reader/listener is left with on the couple’s meeting. Even her test for the suitors could easily be interpreted several ways: either she doesn’t think anyone will win the contest and her hand in marriage, one of the suitors may actually win and so she’ll marry the equal of Odysseus, or if she suspects the beggar is Odysseus she can have it confirmed with the competition.

Earlier I mentioned some tests Odysseus has to endure in this section in order not to reveal himself, but the biggest test may be suppressing the urge to reveal himself. He reveled in declaring his identity to Polyphemus even though he provided the essential information for the Cyclops to curse him. He wants his identity known—after all his fame “extends all the way to heaven.” Knowing that he has to wait to make his identity known would be torture. In addition, the ironies pile up in this section, many times providing grim comedy. Several times the suitors tell the “beggar” Odysseus they wish the gods would grant “the thing you most desire” or happiness in future days. Little do they know that revenge is what he wants the most. And we will see that revenge in the next (and last) section.

Vase showing Penelope at her loom with Telemachus in attendance
Picture source

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.

---

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)