The Fate of Achilles by Bimba Landmann

When I read the review of this book in David Meadow's post at rogueclassicism I thought it would be a great way to get my boys interested in a version of The Iliad. Unfortunately neither of them was inclined to pick up the book on their own but they have responded well to my reading of it to them.

The review is pretty much spot on. The first half of the book tells how the arranged marriage between King Peleus and Thetis happened and Achilles' education under Chiron. The second half covers the storyline of The Iliad. The book combines the different sources for the material into a coherent whole. The style mimics Homer, addressing the characters and raising questions that are fun to cover with the kids, such as choosing between Achilles' destinies or how Zeus will intervene to fulfill Achilles' wishes.

Regarding what level of reader for which the book is best, the story is a little much for the 6 year old but he gets most of it. The 9 year old understands it easily but has trouble with a few of the words and many of the names--he latches on quickly, though. The recommendation from the Getty Publications site (see below) is ages 9 to 12, which I think is about right for the age to read it. As I mentioned, younger kids should enjoy it if it is being read to them.

From the description on the Getty Publications page:

When Achilles was born, the Fates―the three female deities who shaped people's lives―announced that his destiny would be tied to that of Troy. Son of the nymph Thetis and Peleus, king of the Myrmidons, the fiercest warriors in all of Greece, Achilles was raised by the centaur Chiron, who taught the boy fighting skills and imbued him with a strong sense of honor.

When asked to help avenge the Greeks against the Trojans, who had kidnapped the Greek princess Helen, Achilles answers the call, even though his mother warns him that battling the Trojans will bring him eternal glory but will cost him his life. Fighting alongside the troops of King Agamemnon, Achilles's sense of honor and capacity for empathy are both tested. Achilles goes on to meet his fate against the Trojans but, in the end, who really decided his fate? Was it the gods, or was it Achilles himself? This epic tale is enlivened by bold and beautiful illustrations reminiscent of ancient Greek art.

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 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 Iliad summary

Book 8, lines 245-253 in a Greek manuscript of the late fifth or early sixth century AD
Picture source

Generations of men are like the leaves.
In winter, winds blow them down to earth,
but then, when spring season comes again,
the budding wood grows more. And so with men—
one generation grows, another dies away.
Book VI, lines 181 - 185 (translation by Ian Johnston)

Posts on The Iliad:

Online resources

Discussion on the book:

Books I - IV
Books V - VIII
Books IX - XII
Books XIII - XVI
Books XVII - XX
Books XXI - XXIV

Other posts:

An Iliad - a partial review (and examining some of the work's themes)

Some thoughts on The Iliad and The Odyssey (and memory in The Odyssey)

The Iliad discussion: An Iliad — a partial review (and examining some of the work’s themes)

This is a partial review of Alessandro Baricco’s An Iliad (translated by Ann Goldstein)—partial because I could not finish it. The book does raise interesting questions (more about his choices, but some about the original work). I’ll outline Baricco’s introduction and end note (in slightly different order than he presented them) and then go into further details on each one.

Baricco set out to read the entire Iliad in public but realized he needed to make some changes if he wanted to accomplish this in one performance. The first change he made was to avoid repetitions. The next was to use some of the language directly from the work while making other parts more succinct. Baricco then lists four “interventions” he made:

• Stylistic (eliminate archaic language, set a certain tempo, etc.)
• Make the narrative subjective
• Remove “all the appearances of the gods”
• Additions (“bring to the surface intimations that The Iliad could not express”.

The endnote, “Another Kind of Beauty: Note on War”, expounds on Baricco’s overall view of the work and philosophy on what he was hoping to achieve, explaining much of his additional text.

The stylistic changes are generally fine. The repetitions in the original work add meaning plus sound good to me, although reading them sometimes feels a little tedious. One place where the repetitions are essential is when there are slight changes. For the “embassy scene”, Odysseus repeats what Agamemnon has told him and then adds additional points of his own. His additions are crucial to understanding the diverging opinions among the different Achaean officers. In addition, when I saw a “As I said” and then a restatement of what was said just a few lines earlier (on the second page of the book), I questioned the criteria for reducing repetition. (For all I know this is the only instance in the book where there was such an instance, but it was very off-putting given the claim and when things worth repeating are excised.) At times the tempo feels too fast and the segues seem rushed, but in general the pacing is OK. I realize he is trying to cut this down to a manageable time so that the audience’s rears don’t fall asleep. I’m ambivalent on the language changes. Sometimes using archaic language in a translation sets the work in the original setting without losing any universality. And if you are going for a subjective point of view (the next point), a conversational tone can add a folksy, believable feel.

Changing the narrative from an omniscient narrator to a subjective point of view definitely intrigued me. It gives the opportunity for some of the “lesser” characters to become more fully rounded, but for an adaptation that is limited in time that means the major characters are scaled back. The very first narrative raised questions for me, however, when Chryseis continues for a couple of pages on what happened in the Achaean camp after she sailed home to her father. A little picky, maybe, but if you’re going for subjective I would imagine having a credible witness to the scene is essential. And Baricco must have felt that too at times since he has the nurse (who assists Andromache) specifically cite what she saw versus what she heard when she didn’t witness something. Again, I like the idea but I’m not sure it will work successfully all of the time for this work. To make matters worse, many of the participants’ stories seemed lifeless as well. The characters seem flat since Baricco is relying on the original but stripping it of the repetitions and ornamental language. Scenes or experiences that should be highly charged stir nothing.

I was also intrigued by the attempt to remove “all the appearances of the gods”. Note that doesn’t mean there aren’t gods (how else could you have Achilles, Aeneas, Sarpedon, etc.) or that the characters don’t believe in the gods (there are priests, interpretations of omens, etc.). It does mean that Baricco intends not to show any god, nor attribute any action in The Iliad to the gods. His explanation that most of the time there is a dual explanation for actions, both human and divine, works some of the time but not every time. It is believable that Achilles managed his fury and did not draw his sword on Agamemnon instead of Athena warning him not to fight. However, Paris being spirited away by Aphrodite from his fight with Menelaus is a lot more believable than having him crawl away from the fight when Menelaus wasn’t looking. Paris was a lot of things in The Iliad but cowardly wasn’t one of them (although you could say the same thing about Hector, who fled twice). In another case, it is easy to show Achilles with his new armor when he returns to battle, but isn’t just a tad interesting to show how he came to obtain it? Also, if you say you aren’t going to show the gods, then don’t show the gods. Yet there is Thetis on page 8, calming Achilles and giving him instructions on what to do. Plus Achilles says he knows his two fates since his mother told him—there is no possible way to work around Thetis or her divine status by saying divine action is an extension or metaphor for human action. Gods that show up as mortals (Dream as Nestor in Agamemnon’s sleep, Aphrodite as an old lady to Helen) are a little easier to work around using this premise, although in the original work the mortals recognize the gods many times.

This raises the question of why the gods are in The Iliad. What is their purpose in the story? The easy answer is that is how the ancient Greeks saw the world, so the story reflects their view. But there is more going on than just that. Baricco says he is trying to bring “into relief the essentially human story.” But the story itself is about humanity and mortality! The gods serve as the “not human” element, helping highlight what it means to be human. Zeus (as well as other gods) muses on how miserable it is to be a human, but maybe the humans in the story have a different viewpoint. The essential lesson in The Iliad (as I see it) is to explore what it is to be human, what it means to be mortal, and how to deal with death—ours and others. Setting up a contrast of human and “not human” behavior helps illustrate the human condition. Put a different way, why do the gods many times act like petulant, spoiled beings? They have glory. They have immortality. They do not have to achieve anything—they already are and have everything. Humans, on the other hand, have to achieve their glory. They will never be immortal except through a memory living on as part of an epic tale like this. Mortals have everything to risk, the gods have little to lose. Although humans can act like spoiled children as well. Witness Achilles sitting out the battle, but he is trying to obtain glory (be god-like). So removing the gods, while an interesting approach, defeats a major reason they are in the story and damages the essential lessons the story has to impart.

Baricco’s additions are quite a different matter and the final reason I stopped reading the book. But I’ll start with the good. Adding the chapter by Demodocus telling about the fall of Troy (lifted from The Odyssey) is a nice touch, one that modern audiences probably enjoy for closure. But much of the other additions come from Barrico’s ultimate goal with his version of the tale. He spells this out in the end-note, “Another Kind of Beauty: Note on War”. His view of The Iliad is that it is a “monument to war,” something I believe could not be further from its purpose. As usual, I reserve the right to be completely wrong. But carefully describing a decapitated head sitting next its body with a spear stuck in the eye socket, does not strike me as glorifying war. There are no punches pulled in describing the cost of war, whether through the casualties in battle, the personal expense involved, the loss experienced by family and friends, or the crippling of community. If anything, The Iliad asks anyone considering going to war to look at the realities of what happens in battle and how wide the circle of war's impact becomes.

Baricco mentions those that seek the front line in order to find themselves, to experience life at its fullest. Are there people who view war as the ultimate personal test? Undoubtedly and he lists a few writers who thought so. But I think it takes a deliberate misreading of The Iliad to think the work supports that outlook. What the original work highlights is the irony of battle for humans—an activity that can cause their death also gives the opportunity for great and heroic feats. Man can achieve great things, but oftentimes the risk in doing so is accelerating his death. That is part of the nature of humanity, dovetailing with my notes above on the differences between mortals and gods. War is part of the human condition, as is peace. Reducing Achilles carrying his shield to the description “holding the world” excises a wealth of imagery and symbolism. As well as meaning.

Regarding the additional text added by Baricco, I found it distracting, heavy-handed, and counter to the original work most of the time. Thersites, the ugly soldier who heckled Agamemnon (and was beaten by Odysseus) has this deep insight early on in his section: I want to tell you what I know, so that you, too, will understand what I understood: war is an obsession of old men, who send the young to fight. Aside from the banal bumper-sticker philosophy, the story contradicts this in many different ways. Menelaus, only a few pages later, calls for King Priam to be summoned, saying “he is an old man, and old men know how to look at the past and the future together, and understand what’s best for all” when a peace settlement is offered. Hector makes it clear over and over again that he would rather not fight this war but it is his duty to do so. Peace is desirable, but to ignore man’s nature, and war as part of that nature, misreads the work completely. Which is the confusing part of Baricco’s version—he states that he understands this yet he is adding desired text (and meaning) that cannot be supported. His entire ‘feminine’ discussion in the end-note seems to me a Rorschach test of what is hiding between the lines. You see what you want to see regardless if it isn't really there.

I highly recommend listening to a recorded version of the original Iliad. Given the amount of time it will take to make your way through the work, I understand it isn’t an option for everyone (which leads to the potential appeal of Baricco’s approach). I can’t recommend his book, but I hope I gave enough information on his approach for those it might appeal to. I think it speaks highly of the original work that the story can still shine through despite many different approaches and changes. In the introduction Baricco talks of doing a similar project with Moby-Dick. I fear for the white whale’s fate in his hands, suspecting it will succumb to anthropogenic global warming after surviving Ahab. I hope I’m wrong…

The Iliad discussion: Books XXI – XXIV

Andromache mourning Hector
Jacques-Louis David
Picture source

“Revere the gods, Achilles! Pity me in my own right,
Remember your own father! I deserve more pity…
I have endured what no one on earth has ever done before—
I put to my lips the hands of the man who killed my son.”
Book XXIV, lines 588 – 591 (translation by Robert Fagles)

The final four books of The Iliad covers some of the most famous sections of the work. As usual, I’ll only touch on some of the major (OK, and minor as well) themes and motifs.

The association between Achilles and fire (and thus a natural force) continues, most directly in Book XXI. Achilles kills so many Trojans, discarding them in the river Scamander and choking it up with bodies and chariots, that the river god complains and fights Achilles. Interestingly enough, this is the only time Achilles is in danger of being overwhelmed in battle—water fighting fire. Hephaestus joins the battle so that the water stands down to both a fire god and hero.

The superhuman Achilles from the previous section continues his path of death and destruction. From the time he reenters the battle, every death shown comes from his hands. Another example of Achilles operating outside the norms happens when he refuses Lycaon’s supplication. Every request for suplication in The Iliad is denied, but for Achilles mercy was not considered in either of his cases—he has become a death-dealing god. He makes good on his promise to burn twelve Trojans alive during Petroclus’ funeral. Petroclus’ ghost has to beg Achilles for his own burial. Revenge for Petroclus’ death was the initial reason for Achilles’ rage, transferred to desecrating Hector’s corpse when killing Hector did nothing to satisfy his anger. Yet Achilles makes it clear he wants glory too—Athena and Poseidon promise him glory given certain restrictions, Achilles stops to strip the armor of some of his victims, and the poet describes Achilles’ heart as seeking glory. Knowing that death awaits his chosen course of action he seeks the only immortality available to him, choosing his own death while unable to accept the death of his friend.

The structure of The Iliad allows the reader/listener to hear of similar events or characters in order to compare and contrast what happened, the differences highlighting the poet’s point. The most obvious comparison is between Achilles and Hector. Hector is human in every sense of the word. We see him as a soldier, prince, husband, father, son, brother, brother-in-law. He would rather have peace but accepts his role as prince and defender of the city. He doesn’t always listen to good advice. Hector embraces life and humanity while still knowing that death is a possible outcome in what he does. He is uncertain as to what the future holds for him and his family. In addition to the city belonging to him, he belongs to the community. Achilles represents the polar opposite in almost every case. He has cut himself off from the community of soldiers in addition to being far from family and home. We hear of his father and son but we never see them. We do see his mother but she is a goddess, his half-god status lending him additional difference from those around him. He is aware of his choice of fates. After Petroclus’ death, he moves further outside humanity, not just in his killing rage but in his refusal to perform basic human acts (sleep, eat, bathe, etc.).

The final conflict between Hector and Achilles highlights the differences between them. Hector asks for basic courtesies if he is killed, something Achilles is unable to do. Achilles cites what Hector has done to him as the reason he will grant no mercy, yet it is Achilles that has killed most of Hector’s family and actively seeks to destroy his town. Hector, acting human, panics at one point and runs from Achilles. It is interesting that he decides to stand and fight when he believes he has a comrade nearby. He has panicked and fled previously, but that was caused by a god. Here he panicked when alone, cut off from his city and comrades. He decides to stand and fight when he believes he has a comrade nearby, one of many tricks played on him by the gods. Achilles promises defilement of Hector’s corpse, denying Hector the chance to enter Hades (which, ironically, is similar to Achilles’ denying Petroclus the same courtesy). While Hector is the more sympathetic character between the two, I found him more human in this second reading of The Iliad, which includes frustration with him at times as well as sympathizing with his plight. (As an aside, if you have wondered how the word “hector” came to mean ‘to bully’ (as in “Hector hectored Paris”), see the explanation on this page.)

The opposition of Achilles and Hector also highlights what has been at play during all of The Iliad. So many things have been put into opposition with each other, most of all the human condition. As symbolized on Achilles' shield, the two cities, one at war while the other is peaceful. War and peace are both part of the human condition, the tension composing our very being. Also, Achilles' anger at man's mortality drives him to kill, completing an act he does not accept. The action continually highlights the differences between gods and mortals, and the sometimes blurring of both beings as embodied by Achilles himself.

The interaction of the gods, both between themselves and with the humans, becomes a crucial part of the story. When given the green light by Zeus to enter the battle, the gods lustily fight with each other. They help or disrupt participants in the funeral games. The humans’ offerings are considered by the gods. In two moving speeches, the relationship and/or difference between humans and gods are highlighted, the first by Apollo upset with the way Achilles is treating Hector’s corpse and what that means to the gods:

“You gods are cruel and vindictive.
Did Hector never sacrifice to you,
burning thighs of perfect bulls and goats?
And can’t you now rouse yourself to save him,
though he’s a corpse, for his wife, his mother,
and his child to look at, and for Priam, too,
his father, and the people, who’d burn him
with all speed and give him burial rites?
No, you want to help ruthless Achilles,
whose heart has no restraint. In that chest
his mind cannot be changed. Like some lion,
he thinks savage thoughts, a beast which follows
only its own power, its own proud heart,
as it goes out against men’s flocks, seeking
a feast of cattle—that’s how Achilles
destroys compassion. And in his heart
there’s no sense of shame, which can help a man
or harm him. No doubt, a man can suffer loss
of someone even closer than a friend—
a brother born from the same mother
or even a son. He pays his tribute
with his tears and his laments—then stops.
For Fates have put in men resilient hearts.
But this man here, once he took Hector’s life,
ties him behind his chariot, then drags him
around his dear companion’s burial mound.
He’s done nothing to help or honour him.
He should take care he doesn’t anger us.
Though he’s a fine man, in this rage of his
he’s harming senseless dust.”
(Book XXIV, lines 36 – 65, translation by Ian Johnston)

Achilles drags Hector's body
Engraving by Johann Balthasar Probst
Picture source

Man is given a “resilient heart” in order to accept the death of loved ones. The resilient heart is needed for man's two possible situations available, neither of which is ideal. Achilles sums it up for Priam:

That’s the way the gods have spun the threads
for wretched mortal men, so they live in pain,
though gods themselves live on without a care.
On Zeus’ floor stand two jars which hold his gifts—
one has disastrous things, the other blessings.
When thunder-loving Zeus hands out a mixture,
that man will, at some point, meet with evil,
then, some other time, with good. When Zeus’ gift
comes only from the jar containing evil,
he makes the man despised. A wicked frenzy
drives him all over sacred earth—he wanders
without honour from the gods or mortal men.
(Book XXIV, lines 647 – 658, translation by Ian Johnston)

The moving scene between Priam and Achilles is one of my favorite in the story. It is easy to forget the anger or rage that is still burning just beneath the surface for Achilles, or that these two have been fighting each other for over nine years. The assistance of Hermes is crucial in order for Priam to make Achilles’ camp, a fact that does not escape Achilles. The tension surfaces a few times, once when Priam asks for Hector’s body before Achilles is ready to relinquish it and again when Achilles orders Hector’s body bathed and wrapped in order to avoid possible conflict with Priam. Also mentioned several times is the concern for the other Achaeans, especially Agamemnon, who may see the Trojan king in Achilles’ camp. Under these circumstances, Priam is still able to plead for his son’s body from the man responsible for his death. Achilles has been unable to act humanely or stop grieving until he sees the grief of his adversary. Having ignored his comrades and the gods’ suggestions for so long, Achilles comforts Priam with the same advice repeatedly offered to him. While he has chosen the path that will lead to his death, Achilles is finally able to accept the death of his friend.

Foreshadowing future events occurs on several levels in this final section, providing pathos and irony. Ajax’s futility in the funeral games would be humorous if this didn’t prefigure his suicide upon not receiving Achilles’ armor. Priam and his family are a particularly painful example of the reader knowing their fate, Achilles’ refusal of mercy foreshadowing the complete lack of humanity upon the fall of Troy. Andromache, fainting upon the sight of Achilles dragging her husband’s body around Troy, provides a poignant reminder of what will soon happen. As she faints she loses her wedding headdress, a symbol of both marriage and fidelity. Having it fall away calls to mind what will happen to the city and the women once Troy falls. I will not claim to be an expert on the ancient Greek language, but with Andromache’s headdress Homer provides an interesting play on words: in addition to headdress, krêdemnon can also mean the battlements of a city. Homer’s audience would understand the wordplay as the headdress falls and what was in store for Troy. (See this page for more on the word)


In the end, Achilles accepts the human condition by realizing the grief of Priam, the futility of war, and the sorrows we all must face. He (and we) know he will soon die. Fittingly enough, Helen, the cause of this war, has the last words spoken in the epic just before they bury Hector. My first time through the work I felt the ending a little stilted, stopping in medias res just as it began. This time the work feels more complete as I paid more attention to the structure of the work and the closure that Hector’s burial provides. The forces will face each other again soon, but for now the very human hero Hector has been laid to rest while Achilles, soon to die, has embraced the human condition.

Homer gives the ultimate last word to Achilles, however, in The Odyssey. Odysseus, praising Achilles for the glory he achieved, gets a subdued lecture from an unappeased Achilles on which choice is to be preferred:

But was there ever a man more blest by fortune
than you, Akhilleus? Can there ever be?
We ranked you with immortals in your lifetime,
we Argives did, and here your power is royal
among the dead men’s shades. Think, then, Akhilleus:
you need not be so pained by death.”
                                                                         To this
he answered swiftly:
                                         “Let me hear no smooth talk
of death from you, Odysseus, light of councils,
Better, I say, to break sod as a farm hand
For some poor country man, on iron rations,
than lord it over all the exhausted dead.”
The Odyssey, Book XI, lines 569 – 581 (translation by Robert Fitzgerald)

Achilles fights by the river Scamander
Engraving by Johann Balthasar Probst
Picture source

The Iliad discussion: Books XVII - XX

Automedon with the Horses of Achilles by Henri Regnault
Picture source

And Iris racing the wind went veering off
as Achilles, Zeus’ favorite fighter, rose up now
and over his powerful shoulder Pallas slung the shield,
the tremendous storm-shield with all its tassels flaring—
and crowning his head the goddess swept a golden cloud
and from it she lit a fire to blaze across the field.
As smoke goes towering up the sky from out a town
cut off on a distant island under siege…
enemies battling round it, defenders all day long
trading desperate blows from their own city walls
but soon as the sun goes down the signal fires flash,
rows of beacons blazing into the air to alert their neighbors—
if only the’ll come in ships to save them from disaster—
so now from Achilles’ head the blaze shot up the sky.
(Book XVIII, lines 233 – 246, all translations by Robert Fagles)


Achilles came to Troyland
  And I to Chersonese :
He turned from wrath to battle,
  And I from three days' peace.

Was it so hard, Achilles,
  So very hard to die ?
Thou knewest and I know not-
  So much the happier I.

I will go back this morning
  From Imbros over the sea ;
Stand in the trench, Achilles,
  Flame-capped, and shout for me.
-- excerpt from an untitled poem by Patrick Shaw-Stewart

One of my favorite sections so far, but I’ll only be able to do it partial justice. I will focus on a few of the themes and motifs from this section:

Achilles armor—the tie-in between Achilles’ armor and death becomes explicit. After Patroclus dies, Hector puts on the armor while Zeus watches and comments on his impending death. The original audience would know of Achilles’ later death in battle as well as the greater Ajax’s suicide (over not being granted the armor), making it one of the most cursed props in literature. The new armor made by Hephaestus stuns all Achilles’ countrymen so much they can’t look at it. There has been much written elsewhere on the shield, the centerpiece of the new armor. I’ll just mention that the entire cosmos is presented, with special mention on the two cities depicted. One city is at war while the other depicts a wedding and a trial, showing many of mankind’s characteristics and achievements: life, death, joy, sorrow, agriculture, justice, kindness and malice. While it is a cliché, in a sense Achilles carries the world on his arm into battle.

Man’s lowly state—there have been many references by the gods on the pitiful state of mankind, but many more comments and allusions to our lowly state populate this section. Some comments are direct, such as Thetis’ mourning for Achilles’ short life or her resistance to marrying a mortal man. But I wanted to expand on one device used by Homer that directly and subtly addresses the gods’ view—Achilles’ immortal horses. I believe it was in Book XVI when these horses, yoked to one regular horse (which died in battle and was cut loose), were introduced. But in Book XVII the immortal horses weep over Petroclus’ body (and had been since his death).

And Zeus pitied them, watching their tears flow.
He shook his head and addressed his own deep heart:
“Poor creatures, why did we give you to King Peleus,
a mortal doomed to death…
you immortal beasts who never age or die?
So you could suffer the pains of wretched men?
There is nothing alive more agonized than man
of all that breathe and crawl across the earth.

A no-so-great view of the human condition, but one that makes sense coming from a god. The gods are immortal, never suffering the “doom” of death but they are aware of it. Animals die, but they are not aware of their looming death. Man will die and is aware of his impending death, elevating (or rather lowering) them in the gods’ eyes the most pitiful of creatures. The gods have their favorites among the humans, especially their offspring, and the death of a beloved usually yields the only time they show emotion at a mortal’s death. Zeus mentions that “the mortals do concern me, dying as they are.” By yoking immortal horses to a human, Zeus realizes that he has involved them with “wretched men” and they will suffer because of that. There is grief even when the gods grant everything that man wants, as Thetis reminds Achilles that Zeus has done given him all he wanted (while taking away a lot as well). Death is part of the human condition even if a mortal chooses not to accept it. The irony of the warrior culture and of kleos comes from man achieving glory (and a type of immortality) through actions centered around death.

Glory and death—the resolution between Achilles and Agamemnon is a bit of a let-down after the rancor shown between them. Agamemnon offers to give all the gifts offered from the embassy visit, but Achilles says he doesn’t care if he receives them or not. Achilles is beyond the traditional concepts of timê or kleos, focused solely on revenge. Agamemnon still operates based on those concepts however, forcing the soldiers to view the conferment of gifts. Hector operates under these concepts as well, explicitly linking glory and timê when offering half of his spoils to the soldier who secures Petroclus’ body: “His glory will equal mine!” Another linkage, implied up until this point, occurs when Achilles explicitly chooses death and glory after Petroclus’ death by seeking revenge.

Thetis Bringing Armor to Achilles by Benjamin West
Picture source

Achilles: dead or god-like?—also at this point Achilles seems anything but human. On hearing of Patroclus’ death, he sprawls in the dirt with grief, appearing dead himself. When Thetis arrives at Achilles’ tent she cradles his head, mimicking the Greek artistic convention of mourning the dead. At times, the language used to describe Achilles portrays him as lifeless, while at other times he turns his back on life and death. He refuses to bury Patroclus until he has killed Hector, in a sense not accepting his death (although Thetis also encourages him to do this). For himself, Achilles shuns food and drink and other normal human activity. Athena infuses Achilles with ambrosia and nectar to offset his fasting. While this seems to associate him with god-like activity, it also resembles Thetis’ treatment of Patroclus’ body with ambrosia and nectar in order “to make his flesh stand firm” and not decay. At other times, Achilles is so far beyond normal or acceptable behavior, his anger diffused toward everything around him. He vows human sacrifice. He does not consider a suppliant’s pleas. His rage, supplemented with help from the gods, makes Achilles appear like a force of nature.

Achilles and flames--The use of flame imagery has been used in The Iliad several times up to this point, but starting with Book XVII the description of Achilles or his armor in terms related to fire is repeatedly hammered home. Fire was a stolen gift from the gods, useful to man when controlled but dangerous when out of control. Achilles’ actions take him well beyond any sort of control. Just a few of the references: flame-capped Achilles appearing before the Trojans (see the quote at the start of this post), his armor made by the god Hephaestus, similes to nature “like inhuman fire raging on through the mountain gorges”, and his blazing armor. The repetition adds to the feeling that Achilles is beyond human, a force of nature. In an interesting foreshadowing when the gods choose sides and line up against each other now that they are free to enter the fray (early in Book XX), Hephaestus lines up against the river god of the Scamander. File that tidbit away for the next discussion.

Aeneas--On the Trojan side, Hector claims the role of principal or greatest fighter. Very few other Trojan soldiers are shown over the course of the work, Aeneas being one that is given a higher supporting role. He distinguishes himself in battle each time and directly faces Achilles in Book XX. While this is a minor point in the overall tale, the reason the gods protect him from death at Achilles hands will lead to the basis of Virgil’s The Aeneid. It has been interesting to mentally note his exploits and Book XX is where he is given the most exposure in the tale.

The final four books are next. I wasn’t sure what else to do in conjunction with The Iliad. I’ll see if my library has An Iliad by Alessandro Baricco as I would like to see how her first persons’ narrative compares to the original.

Thetis Consoling Achilles by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo
Picture source

The Iliad discussion: Books XIII - XVI

Menelaus and Meriones lifting Patroclus' body on a cart
Picture source

Book XIII continues the battle among the ships. The Achaeans are now fighting a defensive battle, trying to protect their only way home. The ebb and flow of the battle changes as the gods participate. Zeus has instructed no interference from other gods, but Poseidon disobeys while Zeus’ attention is elsewhere. The gods inspire and hinder the humans in battle, influencing a marked change in the individual they choose to manipulate. I had mentioned in the previous post about memorable deaths in The Iliad and this book contains another two that stayed with me long after the first reading. The first one is Imbrius:

So the rampaging, crested Aeantes hoisted Imbrius high,
stripping his gear in mid-air, and the Little Ajax,
raging over Amphimachus’ death, lopped the head
from the corpse’s limp neck and with one good heave
sent it spinning into the milling fighters like a ball,
right at the feet of Hector, tumbling in the dust. --all translations by Robert Fagles

The second involves Alcathous, a spear struck through to his heart while “the heart in its last throes jerked and shook the lance— / the butt-end quivering into the air till suddenly / rugged Ares snuffed its fury out, dead still.” The work pulls no punches in depicting the reality of battle.

The involvement of the gods in battle calls forth comparisons and contrasts with the humans. The basic premises regarding differences between mortals and gods are always front and center—in particular, the immortality of the gods. But there are additional subtle comparisons that accumulate and add significantly to the differences. In Book XIII, Poseidon travels to the battle in his chariot with “the bronze axle under the war-car never flecked with foam”, which is in direct contrast to a recent description of the underside of soldiers’ chariots soaked in blood. Also, in The Iliad a soldier’s aristeia (his preparation for battle, the description of his armor and arms, and his performance of outstanding exploits) has an amusing contrast with Hera’s aristeia (or at least I think it can be so described) in Book XIV. She dresses and “arms” herself to seduce Zeus in order to distract him from the battle in the same manner as a soldier. The contrast between her preparing for seduction and Diomedes (or Petroclus, or Hector, or Achilles, etc.) arming for battle highlights the difference in what is at stake between humans and gods.

Hera’s seduction of Zeus becomes comic relief to the slaughter around Troy. The scene itself is humorous, compounded by Zeus’ comments on how aroused he feels. Their interlude happens while the battle continues, Hector being hit and stunned on what was supposed to be his day of glory. Meanwhile, Agamemnon suggests yet again that the Achaeans should leave under cover of night, the third time he has said this and apparently the second time he has meant it. Odysseus and Diomedes upbraid him again on his fecklessness. The arguments against leaving start with the soldiers’ code and appeal to honor, ending with discussing how impractical such a retreat would be.

The speeches on glory stand out even more in this section since the fighting is at its most intense. Poseidon encourages the Achaeans in many ways, including shaming those holding back in the lines (“the worthless coward who cringes from fighting”). In Book XV there are several stirring speeches appealing to the code of the warrior. The first is from the great Ajax:

Dread what comrades say of you here in bloody combat!
When men dread that, more men come through alive—
when soldiers break and run, goodbye glory,
goodbye all defenses!”

Nestor’s admonition takes the same tack and goes even deeper:

”Be men, my friends! Discipline fill your hearts,
maintain your pride in the eyes of other men!
Remember, each of you, sons, wives, wealth, parents—
are mother and father dead or alive? No matter,
I beg you for their sakes—loved ones far away—
now stand and fight, no turning back, no panic.”

A topic I found of special interest in this section revolves around the interaction of gods and fate. In Book XV Ares sets out to avenge the death of his half-mortal son, Ascalaphus, until Athena talks him out of it. Ares’ and Athena’s main concern is retribution from Zeus for interfering in the battle. More complicated is Zeus’ feelings toward his son Sarpedon. Early in Book XV, Zeus lays out what will happen regarding all the principle characters including the death of Sarpedon, having foresight into the fates of humans. Yet in Book XVI Zeus wants to save his mortal son from death at the hands of Patroclus until Hera talks him out of interfering in the battle. While the gods could change a human’s fate, the obstruction of what was fated is definitely frowned on (especially since the intrusion into one fate would cause a proliferation of interference from the gods). Sarpedon’s death and Zeus’ actions to protect the corpse foreshadows divine interaction after Hector’s death.

Book XVI focuses heavily on Patroclus’ aristeia, which leads to his death at the end of the chapter. There is a lot that can be read into the relationship and comparison between Patroclus and Achilles, but even at just the superficial level (Patroclus caring for wounded a wounded soldier while Achilles stews in his camp) is enough to highlight the differences. Achilles compares Patroclus’ concern for his fellow soldiers to that of a little girl clinging to her mother’s skirt. After his amazing speeches in Book IX, revealing his dual fates and musing on the ultimate end of all mortals, his speeches to Patroclus seems to be a major step back to a one-dimensional character. His concern for Patroclus is less on his proxy’s safety and more on potential imposition on Achilles’ glory. Achilles admits he was not planning on staying angry at Agamemnon forever. While he doesn’t mention his dual fates directly or his choice between them, the resolution has been spelled out already by Zeus. In addition, the choice is implied with Achilles’ focus on glory—if it is glory he seeks, the outcome is preordained. I suppose the selfish focus of Achilles is not completely at odds with his speeches in Book IX, but his earlier concern for extending life is in contrast to achieving glory.

The appearance of Patroclus in Achilles’ armor demonstrates the respect given Achilles. The interaction between humans and gods takes on additional dimensions throughout these books. At one point in the ensuing battle Hector panics and flees due to the fear put into him by a god. Patroclus tries to lessen Hector’s glory in battle, noting that Hector was the third one to inflict damage. The first was Apollo who stripped Patroclus of some of Achilles’ armor, setting him up for death (the start of the relationship between Achilles’ armor and death). The ancient Greek connection between near-death and prophecy surfaces as well, with Patroclus (as he is dying) foretelling Hector’s fate. Hector laughs at the prophecy, saying he may be the one to strike Achilles instead. Yet Zeus has already foretold what will happen, making Hector’s taunts sound hollow. Like the earlier speech to his wife, it is as if Hector comes close to seeing what will happen but is unable or unwilling to fully recognize it. The death of Patroclus sets into motion the final actions sealing the fates of Hector and Achilles.

Menelaus supporting the body of Patroclus
Picture source

The Iliad discussion: Books IX - XII

The Ambassadors to Agamemnon Visiting Achilles
Jean Auguste-Dominique Ingres
Picture source

Book IX begins with Agamemnon declaring that Zeus has tricked him and he is planning on going home. Unlike Book II’s ruse, this time he seems to mean it. This is an interesting time for him to feel that way. Things have gone badly during the recent fighting and it is clear that both the Trojans and Achaeans believe Hector and his troops have the upper hand, but the outcome is far from determined. Diomedes’ speech declaring he will stay and fight sets the stage for Nestor’s council to Agamemnon. Agamemnon agrees that he was wrong to insult Achilles and allows the selection of three emissaries to offer gifts to the warrior for his return tp battle. The gifts, the men chosen, and their arguments all bear close attention.

The gifts include tripods, gold, horses, seven women plus Briseis (untouched) brought to Achilles immediately. In addition, if the Achaeans take Troy Agamemnon offers twenty Trojan women, more gold and bronze, the choice of Agamemnon’s daughters for marriage, and a dowry including land and cities to rule. It is interesting to note that these gifts echo the choices given during the judgment of Paris (wealth, power and women), although there is no direct reference to the precursor to Helen’s abduction in The Iliad (the judgment story may have come after the poem, which means there is not a timing question regarding Achilles’ age). The chosen emissaries are an interesting mix as well as providing insight to the warrior code. Note that Agamemnon does not go himself, but assumes that significant timê will automatically make everything better. He also assumes the usual parts of the code will persuade Achilles to resubmit to Agamemnon, the older man and greater king. Phoenix represents a familial tie, having helped raise Achilles in addition to being Peleus’ proxy during the war. Ajax, being a great warrior, can appeal to duty and comradeship. Odysseus’ oration skills were commented on by Priam, a great tactician in speech as well as in the field. While Agamemnon seems to assume the gifts are enough to convince Achilles to return, Nestor’s choice of emissaries is meant to ensure no angle is overlooked.

The speeches follow the general reasons each emissary was chosen. Odysseus lays out the military situation, recites the list of gifts offered, and adds a short postscript of his own. Odysseus realizes that Achilles may still hate Agamemnon, but calls on his sense of duty and comradeship to assist the other soldiers. In doing so, Odysseus stresses the kleos Achilles will earn. Achilles’ reply stands the warrior code and the entire concept of kleos on its head. “The same honor waits / for the coward and the brave. They both go down to Death, / the fighter who shirks, the one who works to exhaustion.” The entire speech is masterful as Achilles works through his new feelings. His argument is roughly that we are all going to die so what does it matter how we meet death? Agamemnon has made timê irrelevant since he arbitrarily grants it or takes it away. Achilles essentially declares the code and shame culture no longer have meaning to him. Even more astounding is the revelation on the alternative fates available to him (as relayed by his mother): die fighting Troy but earning kleos, or having his glory die but living a long life at home. Not only is it uncommon for a mortal to know his fate, but to have a choice of fates is essentially unheard of. The second fate lies outside the codes and standards of the day, but it is the one Achilles says he has chosen. This floors the emissaries—they do not know how to respond to this although they try, using their prepared speeches even though Achilles has made it clear that he is beyond their reasoning.

Phoenix makes a nice try, cloyingly recalling Achilles' younger years and his role in raising the young warrior. Phoenix mentions his own fight with his father over a mistress and leaving home over the dispute, the reason he found himself in Achilles’ household. (A fight over a concubine with an older male authority figure—that sounds familiar doesn’t it?) Phoenix adds a story demonstrating the need for timely acceptance of gifts when they proffered. The use of an older story, meant to provide guidelines on appropriate action, does not reach Achilles who has made it clear he is beyond such guidance. Ajax addresses the comradeship and friendships that Achilles is turning his back on, which finally makes a partial dent in Achilles’ pride. He declares he may eventually fight, but not until the Trojans have fought to his ships. Odysseus relays Achilles’ responses to Agamemnon but he does not include Achilles’ comments to Ajax, mentioning that Achilles still intends to leave first thing in the morning. The Achaeans have no response to this, they are all struck dumb until Diomedes rallies them to rest before what promises to be a long day of battle.

A few quick notes on some highlights (to me) from the last three books in this section…
The sortie by Diomedes and Odysseus in Book X occurs that evening. Their execution of Dolon is the second plea for ransom that has been denied (Menelaus’ killing of Adrestus in Book VI was the first). Diomedes raises the point that Dolon would eventually return to battle, so killing him cuts short the possible annoyance. Dolon is a character we can pity, but to Greek audiences he was probably beneath contempt with his sniveling and cowardice. There are a couple of deaths in The Iliad that I remembered long after my first reading, and Dolon’s is one of them:

With that, just as Dolon reached up for his chin
to cling with a frantic hand and beg for life,
Diomedes struck him square across the neck—
a flashing hack of the sword—both tendons snapped
and the shrieking head went tumbling in the dust. (Translation by Robert Fagles)

As Diomedes finished, Dolon was intending
to cup his chin with his strong hand in supplication.
But with his sword Diomedes jumped at him,
slashed him across the middle of his neck, slicing
through both tendons. Dolon’s head rolled in the dust,
as he was speaking. (Translation by Ian Johnston)

People die in every conceivable manner, graphically detailed, but that image still haunts me as does the question of the denied ransoms. The kleos associated with the timê offered in each case would be great, yet after over nine years of war are they moving beyond a desire for war? Is it a comment on the true nature of war and the human cost involved on all sides? Or is it simply foreshadowing what happens after Troy's fall? Killing their captive appears to be acceptable under the rules (and provides its own honor), but that choice instead of gifts and honor stands out for me.

The dawn at the end of Book X leads to a long day, both in terms of action and pages. Early in Book XI, Agamemnon has his glory on the field, but that fades as he and the other Achaean leaders are wounded. Achilles shows interest in finding out about a casualty, but not out of concern for their well-being but instead wondering whether he will be begged to return. I had forgotten two details regarding Patroclus’ visit to Nestor. The description Patroclus gives of Achilles (when telling Nestor he does not have time to sit) echoes Homer’s descriptions of the gods with words like “awesome,” “quick to anger,” “great and terrible”. It is easy to forget at times that Achilles is only half human and how other humans around him view that status. The second detail comes when Nestor plants the idea in Patroclus’ mind to wear Achilles’ armor. While this excites Patroclus and ultimately leads to his death, the contrast with Achilles is apparent both from wanting to help his fellow soldiers by fighting with them as well as helping Eurypylus with his wounds.

I don’t have much to say about Book XII right now, although maybe more so in the context with the next section (Books XIII – XVI). The entire work is suffused with acknowledgment that the Trojan War occurred in a different age, calling to mind Hesiod’s different ages of man, and there are a couple of direct references in this book. During this story, gods interact directly with men, gods and mortals have offspring, and mortals were more powerful. The epics exist for several reasons, such as providing examples and guidelines on how to act or even simply to supply entertainment. But at times there is a wistful “they don’t make ‘em like that any more” feel within the story.

The next post should cover Books XIII – XVI, which continues this long day of battle and ends with Patroclus’ death.

The Iliad discussion: Books V – VIII

Aphrodite Wounded by Diomedes
Jean Auguste-Dominique Ingres
Picture source

Book V belongs to Diomedes despite Zeus’ agreement allowing the Trojans temporary ascendancy on the battlefield. I find the interplay between gods and humans fascinating, the gods protecting or abandoning people at the god’s whim. The battles that the gods wage against each other, using humans as intermediaries, must highlight the role the ancients felt in the world. There is a complex fatalism at work in the humans. Anything they are incapable of ascribing to logic or cause/effect they attribute to the gods. These explanations can cover mundane happenings (a “clouded mind” for example) or momentous events (Zeus granting Trojans an upper hand, or Aphrodite ‘giving’ Helen to Paris). Despite the human’s pawn-like role in this cosmology, uncertainty or impotence in determining an outcome is rarely an acceptable excuse for lack of determined action. There is a code for the soldier in particular and similar guidelines for others wishing to avoid reproof.

For Diomedes’ determination, Athena grants his wish for revenge and he is physically transformed (as are many of the humans divinely assisted in the tale), wounding two of the gods. (Sidenote: notice the gods’ response to being wounded—they flee the battle immediately. Kleos is not important to them as they are already immortal.) The gods also protect favorites on the battlefield as well, such as Aeneas. Given that the gods arbitrarily intervene and that prayers and requests to the gods are often denied, imagine the mindset that a soldier must have in order to be successful. The warrior code exemplified ined in The Iliad provides meaning and reason in such an uncertain and demanding role. War may be one of the natural conditions of man, but as shown when the Achaeans rush for their boats in Book II it isn’t necessarily desirable for the participants. The code helps offset such a reaction and ensures that warriors fight for not just themselves, their cause, or their fellow soldiers but to avoid shame as well. Some of the interesting (to me) examples and exceptions to the code will be pointed out as more of the work is covered.

Early in Book VI, with the Achaeans surging toward Troy, Menelaus captures Adrestus alive. Menelaus’ agreement to ransom his captive changes to a “rough justice” at the urging of Agamemnon. Has Agamemnon moved outside the code, caught up in his personal vengeance against the Trojans? If anything, Menelaus has more reason to be upset since it was his wife that was abducted. Or maybe Agamemnon is intent on proving that Achilles isn’t needed for the Achaeans to be successful? Whatever the reason, Agamemnon’s wish that not one Trojan escape their death at the Greeks’ hands is a timely reminder to the audience (who already know the bloody outcome of the war) as the story shifts inside Troy.

Just before the narrative moves inside the walls of Troy, Diomedes and Glaucus have an extended scene on the battlefield that highlights an exception to the warrior’s code as well as makes a commentary about this war in general regarding the Trojans. As the two soldiers face each other and boast of their lineage and accomplishments, they realize their families have a friend/guest relationship. They stand down and Diomedes offers to “trade armor” so that others will know of their friendly claim. Glaucus (whose wits were stolen by Zeus) agrees to the exchange, trading “his gold armor for bronze with Diomedes, / the worth of a hundred oxen just for nine.” Family friendships are established as an exception to the call for battle, but even more important is the symbolism in the exchange of armor. The scene immediately shifts to Hector entering the city walls, bringing the trade that the Trojan have made into relief—allowing Paris a few adulterous years with Helen in exchange for the destruction of Troy. Neither trade seems to be in the Glaucus’ or Troy’s best interest.

Even so, Hector’s treatment of Helen is better than his attitude toward his brother Paris. Again, Paris meekly accepts the reproof, knowing his brother fairly criticizes him. And it is easy to question Helen’s reasons for urging of Paris back to the battle—for his honor of his death? The reaction of Helen and several of Troy’s citizens toward Paris (the cause of the war) and the gods’ feelings toward Ares (the god of war) are similar, which seems more than just a coincidence. Just because war is inevitable does not mean everyone favors it.

Hector’s visit to his wife Andromache and son Astyanax provides for a tender and moving scene in the midst of the carnage. Agamemnon’s wishes remind the listener what will happen to the Trojans, making the scene that much more poignant. Hector’s prayers to Zeus for Astyanax’s future will come to naught. The scene also reminds the listener what is at stake for the Trojans—the defense of their homes and their family in addition to their honor. In his discussion with this wife, Hector provides a glimpse inside the warrior mindset and another aspect in the concept of kleos:

”Even so,
it is less the pain of the Trojans still to come
that weighs me down, not even of Hecuba herself
or King Priam, or the thought that my own brothers
in all their numbers, all their gallant courage,
may tumble in the dust, crushed by enemies—
That is nothing, nothing beside your agony
when some brazen Argive hales you off in tears,
wrenching away your day of light and freedom!
Then far off in the land of Argos, you must live,
laboring at the loom, at another woman’s beck and call,
fetching water at some spring. Messis or Hpyeria,
resisting it all the way—
the rough yoke of necessity at your neck.
And a man may say, who sees you streaming tears,
‘There is the wife of Hector, the bravest fighter
they could field, those stallion-breaking Trojans,
long ago when the men fought for Troy.’ So he will say
and the fresh grief will swell your heart once more,
widowed of the one man strong enough
to fight off your day of slavery. No, no,
let the earth come piling over my dead body
before I hear your cries, I hear you dragged away!”

The shame attached to his name being dragged down is just as repellant (more so?) as the thought of his wife being hauled into slavery. Hector has already outlined why he fights—to avoid shame as well as to earn glory for himself and his father. Here and elsewhere, the Trojans are presented sympathetically to a Greek audience. The Greek “enemy” is painted as more than just worthy opponents. In addition, the Trojans are painted as surprisingly similar to the Greeks. He knows the possibility of Troy being destroyed (stating that he knows it will fall at one point, then in the next breath wishing his son a long glory-filled life), his love of the city tied to the regard he has for his father as its ruler. Hector’s uncertainty as to his and the city’s fate provides the basic framework for how most mortals operate—either option may happen but he can’t be sure which will occur. This scene, as do many other in the book, sets the groundwork for a comparison with Achilles.

Book VII shows Paris and Hector returning to battle, the gods intervening yet again to set up a duel between Ajax and Hector. More divine intervention stops the battle for the evening without a clear winner. In council that evening, Paris responds to Antenor’s request to return Helen to the Achaeans by offering to return the treasure he took from Sparta. The desire to end the war with an inadequate offering makes the Achaeans believe the Trojans are desperate.

Zeus’ use of his scales in Book VIII highlights a complicated relationship between the gods and fate. Certain things are destined to happen, yet the gods can intervene to some extent. It is as if the destination is known, but the gods can influence the path toward arrival. There is much more opportunity to discuss the gods in this work, but a couple of their major roles is to provide a comparison or offset to humans as well as provide an explanation for things and events that humans cannot explain (as mentioned earlier). In the case of Book VIII, Zeus has the other gods refrain from interference (although not entirely) to let him control the action. The battle goes back and forth, but Zeus foreshadows events that will happen the next day.

I mention it several times, but it is important to remember that the original audience for this work was the Greeks. How do you make it palatable to the audience that your ancestors are to be routed, even just temporarily? Divine intervention provides the excuse, in addition to having the best warrior sit out the fighting. Achilles has been absent from the story, but will reappear in Book IX, one of my favorite chapters in literature.

The Iliad discussion: Books I - IV

The beginning of The Iliad
Picture source

Sing, Goddess, sing of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus—
that murderous anger which condemned Achaeans
to countless agonies and threw many warrior souls
deep into Hades, leaving their dead bodies
carrion food for dogs and birds—
all in fulfilment of the will of Zeus.
Start at the point where Agamemnon, son of Atreus,
that king of men, quarrelled with noble Achilles.
Which of the gods incited these two men to fight?
(translation by Ian Johnston)

Rage--Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles,
murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses,
hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls,
great fighters' souls, but made their bodies carrion,
feasts for the dogs and birds,
and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end.
Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed,
Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.
What god drove them to fight with such a fury?
(translation by Robert Fagles)

Note: unless otherwise noted, I'll use Robert Fagles' version on all quotes. I highly recommend it because of Bernard Knox's incisive introduction (and I always love the inclusion of maps). Also recommended is Ian Johnston's series of Essays on Homer's Iliad which helps in understanding the work both in Homer's time as well as our own. Finally, while I rarely listen to recorded books, I suggest listening to part or all of this. It is easy to forget that The Iliad was initially a performance and hearing the work unfold put me squarely in the tale.

Second useless note: how to approach writing about The Iliad? This is my second time through it (first reading it about 6 years ago). I resisted it the first time, but as I got to the end of it many aspects of the work began to ‘click’ and I found it engaging. My discussions will be geared for someone like me when I first read it—knowledgeable about some mythology and the culture but not in great detail, needing a little help to make some pieces fit together.

The Iliad starts off with little introduction, quickly detailing the circumstances where Homer will begin the narration. No introduction is needed to characters or the larger setting—all these things are assumed to be well known with the listener. So how can it possibly be interesting if the audience already knows how it will turn out? The key is to focus on a small part of the Trojan War, letting the known outcome lend irony and pathos to the narration as well as delving into the consciousness of one of the heroes.

The first word of The Iliad is mênin, meaning rage, anger or wrath (it is the accusative case of mênis). While the first sentence tells you the subject of the story, it concentrates it into the first word as well. While there are several words that could have been used to mean "rage", Homer's choice here is limited in the rest of the text to describe a god's anger (for a more complete examination of mênis in the work see Leonard Muellner's The Anger of Achilles). So right away the reader/listener is clued in that there is something special about Achilles and his rage.

A first time reader of The Iliad will see commentary on the concepts of kleos and timê. I initially shrugged at the explanations, but they are essential in understanding the action throughout the book. Timê is translated as honor, but there is a physical component to it. It is expressed as the prizes given or booty taken, whether armor, gold, or slaves. Kleos is the glory or fame that accrues to a person. This happens through being victorious in battle and/or how much timê is earned. There is obviously an interrelationship between the two concepts—the more timê, the more kleos. Kleos is important in the “shame culture” of the ancient Greek world, since what is said about you by others defines how you are viewed. In addition, what does a Greek look forward to if he believes his afterlife is spent as a shade in Hades? His kleos, the glory he has achieved in life and then communicated to others, will insure his immortality in at least one respect.

The chain of events leading to the feud between Agamemnon and Achilles has some similarities, but the differences are more important. Agamemnon is asked to give up Chryseis to appease a god and end a plague killing his men. He will suffer a loss of timê, but he is offered greater rewards as a replacement once Troy is taken. Agamemnon assumes his kleos will be reduced, but later actions provide clues that he is mistaken. The situation for his loss of timê is similar to a soldier refusing to engage in battle when a god assists the other side—retreat is an acceptable behavior in this case with no negative impact to honor. Likewise, there is no loss of honor in Agamemnon giving up Chryseis since the action is required by a divinity.

Achilles, however, has Briseis taken from him in order to appease Agamemnon, with no replacement or offset offered. This is a direct affront to him by another man and his kleos is diminished, the more so because it is done in front of other leaders and soldiers. Why fight if timê and kleos can arbitrarily be removed? But how should Achilles’ request to his mother to have Zeus assist the Trojans and harm the Achaeans be interpreted? The modern reader will probably think he acts like a petulant kid, unable to let his loss go. However his request fits in perfectly in such a system of honor, glory, and shame. Achilles wishes to restore his kleos and establish his worth (and not coincidentally make Agamemnon realize his mistake) by showing how much he is needed in battle. To reinforce these concepts, during a speech Achilles he rhetorically asks why he is fighting for Agamemnon. The implied answer is honor and glory since, as he mentions, the Trojans never did him harm nor stole anything from him (unlike Agamemnon).

The relationship between man and the gods is highlighted early in the work. The will of Zeus and the anger of Apollo are mentioned on the first page. The listeners would know of the gods’ involvement in starting the Trojan War. One intrusion I found interesting was Athena (with help from Hera) stopping Achilles from assaulting Agamemnon. Her enticement is that three times the “glistening gifts will lie before you” if he checks himself. The irony is not lost on the audience since they know of Achilles’ fate, also reflected in Thetis’ reaction to her son. “All I bore was doom” she mourns when she sees him. Even if Achilles lives a long time after returning home, it is still a short life to a god that does not experience death. The interaction between gods and men is one of the more fascinating and complex themes in the book, especially when a god is dealing with a human offspring.

Athena holds Achilles from Agamemnon
Fresco from The House of the Tragic Poet
Picture source

After Zeus assents to Thetis’ request, the audience is treated to scenes from Olympus, the strife and war there mirroring what is happening around Troy. War is characterized as one of the natural states in the world and heaven, which is reinforced by the similes Homer uses in likening actions taking place during the war to events in nature. The humans may blame the gods for war taking place, but that is the characters' way to explain difficult or illogical concept since they live outside consciousness. More on this as the story progresses...

Book II opens with Zeus sending a misleading dream to Agamemnon, who then gives a misleading order to the men that he is abandoning the battle since the gods have tricked him (there are multiple layers of trickery going on here). To Agamemnon’s dismay, many of the men hightail it to their boats—after nine years of war they are ready to return home. Their commitment, now that there are no more potential prizes, is forgotten in a heartbeat. Hera and Athena have to intervene to keep the men from leaving, extending the war to satisfy their desires.

It is at this point that Thersites challenges Agamemnon and his leadership. Thersites is described as ugly, gimpy, and insubordinate, the jokester of the group. Yet his speech sounds amazingly like Achilles’ abuse, accusing Agamemnon of engaging in the war solely for his own reward of prizes, gold and women. Odysseus does not respond to the accusations directly but says “Who are you to wrangle with kings, you alone?” and belittle Thersites in front of the troops. The listener would find this interesting since Odysseus stood by when Achilles made the same accusations and that Odysseus has no answer to Thersites’ questions. This is part of the wonderful structure of The Iliad, where ideas continually circle and weave a pattern. The structure allows the listener to compare and contrast, to draw out what is different and interpret why that is. In this case, the differences between Thersites and Achilles goes beyond their status and prowess, going instead to the heart of being a soldier at that time. Achilles and Odysseus believe in the system or code they are fighting by, Thersites does not. He mocks the system since he cannot achieve what others do. Achilles turns his back on Agamemnon because he does believe in the system (at this point anyway) but that the code has not been applied properly.

Book II continues with Odysseus recalling Calchas’ divination that Troy would fall in ten years to the Achaeans, followed by a census of the Achaean troops. This part can be tedious to the reader, but there are a few points to make it interesting. First, by looking at the maps as the regions are named it is easy to see that this was the equivalent of a world war. Second, the relative position of the leaders is shown since the force a king commanded helps determine his rank. Even here, the exceptions are illuminating. For example, Odysseus only brought twelve ships yet he is one of the highest leaders, emphasizing ability and results to also determine rank. Third, this census would give someone reciting The Iliad the chance to embellish and expand descriptions for the local area where he was performing ("hello Cleveland!"). A shorter list of Trojan armies follows, but their census includes more foreshadowing and presentiment to the outcomes of some leaders. That the descriptions of the enemy are honorable and flattering highlights a different code for that time—defeating an honorable and strong army redoubles the credit that goes to the victor.

Book III begins with the armies amassed and ready for battle. Paris steps forward, eager to challenge his opponents until he sees Menelaus ready to meet him. Hector upbraids his brother Paris, “our prince of beauty”, for his cowardly action. Paris accepts the criticism as fair, but includes this ironic quote:

Still, don’t fling in my face the lovely gifts
of golden Aphrodite. Not to be tossed aside,
the gifts of the gods, those glories…
whatever the gods give of their own free will—
how could we ever choose them for ourselves?

The listener would not forget that this war came about because of Paris' choice of Aphrodite over Hera and Athena, her gift over theirs. Paris may be the most difficult character to asses in the poem. Speeches like this one leave you wondering what his appeal could possibly be, even though you know he will be the slayer of Achilles (which happens outside The Iliad). Then in the next moment he offers to end the war with a one-on-one battle with Menelaus, winner take all, and it is possible to have a high regard for him. Many of his action seem to embody one possible reaction to the interference of the gods in humans’ lives, something akin to a weary resignation. Other heroes accept the arbitrary and usually irrational interference of the gods as well, but never lose the verve and vitality that makes them heroes. Yet there must be something behind Paris’ stature since Hector and all the Trojans are delighted to see this match occur—given the stakes, they must respect his fighting ability.

It is in this book that we see Helen for the first time. The reaction of the old men on the city wall shows recognition of her beauty and how the war could happen because of her. Still, most would like to see her return to her original home in order to end the war. Priam, the one responsible and answerable for the death and destruction of his city, reacts the kindest of all to her. He blames the war on the gods, but leaves unanswered what happened when Menelaus and Odysseus visited to seek Helen’s return (before the war began). Obviously their request was denied, but who made that decision and what was the reasoning?

Priam’s request, in the ninth year of the war, to have Helen tell him the soldiers’ names seems a little displaced in time (wouldn’t that happen earlier during the fighting?). It is better to not get too troubled over these displacements since the war itself is a better example. Even adjusting for the long lead time to muster troops, how could Achilles be present in a war that had its origins at his parents’ wedding? Better just to note these questions and move on. This scene does give a nice glimpse of how the Trojans view the Achaeans. As mentioned before, irony abounds throughout the poem since the listener knows the outcome of Troy, of Achilles, of Priam, of Hector and others, even if the results are outside the scope of this work. The scene on the city wall provides an additional perspective when the listener is told of the death of Helen’s brothers as she looks for them among the soldiers. She blames her status without thinking of other possibilities. Helen is an interesting character as the poet reveals her self-loathing, her mixed feelings for Paris, and how Aphrodite toys with her feelings and desires for both Menelaus and Paris.

After Aphrodite spirits Paris away from certain death at the hands of Menelaus, Book IV switches to Olympus as the gods decide whether to end the war or let it continue. The scene cannot be comforting—Zeus would like to spare Troy, but the ease with which he allows its destruction is surpassed only by the ease Hera says she would allow the destruction of Argos, Sparta or Mycenae any time Zeus desires. Imagine living in one of these towns and listening to the poem.

The deception of the gods continues with the breaking of the truce. Menelaus is shot, and the resulting wound is described as and compared to a work of art. Instructions are given for the battle and some of the preparations reveal how the soldiers view the battle and their code. For example, the known cowards are to be flanked by experts so that they are forced to fight. Emphasis is placed on fighting as a group. Nestor, an aged warrior, is a sharp contrast to the old “cicadas” perched on the walls of Troy. Even though not in the thick of fighting, he realizes he can provide discipline and direction for the forces. His outlook is one of the most upbeat on being older: “the gods won’t give us all their gifts at once.” While preparing the forces to fight, Agamemnon provides an example of kleos when he meets Diomedes, commenting on the glory of the soldier’s father. Diomedes for his part recognizes the responsibility of Agamemnon, win or lose.

The battle begins in this book and the clash provides plenty of action and death. What I found interesting my first time through The Aeneid was that there was no (individual) anonymous death. Every victim was named, and many times their families or their achievements were mentioned. At the same time (on the first reading), watching the soldiers immediately try to strip the armor from a fallen enemy is rather puzzling if the concepts of kleos and timê are not understood. I remember thinking that the soldier could return to the field after the battle was over, but the importance of gathering the armor lies in the acknowledgment of victory over your victim.

Once again the gods stoke the desire for battle in the humans, Apollo and Athena insuring no one shirked their duty for long. The gods reward is the damage they cause:

And so the two lay stretched in the dust, side-by-side,
a lord of Thrace, a lord of Epeans armed in bronze
and a ruck of other soldiers died around them. And now
no man who waded into that work could scorn it any longer,
anyone still not speared or stabbed by tearing bronze
who whirled into the heart of all that slaughter—
not even if great Athena led him by the hand,
flicking away the weapons hailing down against him.
That day ranks of Trojans, ranks of Achaen fighters
Sprawled there side-by-side, facedown in the dust.

Achilles meanwhile is sitting by his ship. The impact of his withdrawal will be seen in the next section.

Picture source