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Showing posts with label Homer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Homer. Show all posts

January 29, 2019

The Odyssey (700 BC) by Homer

It’s hard to write a review of The Odyssey without comparing it to The Iliad, which I liked. The battle scenes were viscerally affecting and it surprised me with its modernity. However, I found it a little too repetitive—I believe its English translation probably lacks the lyrical quality it must retain in its original Homeric Greek. Too many of the battle scenes are too similar; grand verse is dedicated to the poetic ways the Greeks and Trojans dismember each other, and the involvement of the gods is no minor thing, but this goes on for a bit too long and is rehashed a bit too often for my tastes, which leads to my hypothesis that The Iliad, in its original form, must have felt farm more song-like. The Fagles translation I read did a fantastic job of beautifying the language of his adaptation, but I still grew tired of it all by the end and ended up feeling like The Iliad was a bit too long in the 700+ page count of my Penguin edition. I was also surprised that it didn’t contain so many of the legendary events I’d grown familiar with via popular reputation: The sack of Troy, Achilles’ death, the Trojan horse, etc.

In general I’d say that I liked the book, but found it an uneven reading experience that’s probably far less enjoyable than it would have been in its native tongue.

I was surprised then, that The Odyssey turned out to be so different from its predecessor. Clocking in with 200 fewer pages than The Iliad, it manages to pack in a rollicking adventure tale brimming with wonderful locales and compelling, fantastical scenarios. Fantasy in general has never much been my thing, and the presence of gods, deities, and other immortal beings carelessly tossing about magic to suit the plot still turned me off, but I was nonetheless entranced by The Odyssey’s airy pace and appealing adventure. I suppose I should have expected it all along given its reputation, but I found it a fresh experience compared to its predecessor.


The Odyssey is a victim to some of the same repetitive pitfalls of The Iliad (I’d be curious to see just how many times the line “When young Dawn shone with his rose red fingers once more” and its minor variants appear in the text), but I’m not sure there’s any avoiding it if you want an accurate translation of the original. We’ll never get an English version of these stories that adequately recreates the poetry of the original Homeric Greek, but Fagles’ excellent version of The Odyssey is still a markedly more enjoyable read than its predecessor. Another criticism I'd make is the blatant deus ex machina resolutions which constantly occur throughout the book. Particularly egregious is that which occurs at the very end of the novel, in which Athena simply makes a bunch of people forget about how angry they are so everyone can live happily ever after. While this should have bothered me much more, the annoyance was dampened somewhat by the presence of so many similar resolutions throughout both The Iliad and The Odyssey already. If you can live with it up to this point then I suppose it won't wreck the story for you.

Despite these flaws The Odyssey proves itself worthy of its stature within the realm of classic literature and is recommendable to pretty much everybody considering its quick pace and satisfying conclusion. Especially recommendable to fans of modern fantasy, Homer’s tale seldom feels its age and is capable of standing toe-to-toe with the blockbuster Marvel films that are (perhaps unconsciously) inspired by it.


⭐⭐⭐⭐

November 2, 2018

The Iliad (750 BC) by Homer


The Iliad is surprisingly modern in its level, deep treatments of its characters on both sides. Achilles is a particularly interesting study in what a spoiled diva not unlike an '80s glam rock star would have been had they been granted godlike skill at arms and been transported to 13th century BC Anatolia. Its realistic depiction of violence and the horrors of war was surprising to me, the rang genuine when I expected a more romanticized version. I particularly enjoyed the character of Diomedes, someone I had never previously heard of but found quite memorable in action. His duel with Aphrodite stood out as a scene I'll never forget. The hulking figure of Ajax was equally inspirational.

Fagles' translation is often beautiful and I doubt a much better job will ever be done. The caliber of his English "prosetry" was something else that greatly surprised on reading this particular translation:
"Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away."
"Any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." 
"The sort of words a man says is the sort he hears in return." 
"The proud heart feels not terror nor turns to run and it is his own courage that kills him." 
"Even a fool may be wise after the event." 
"We are perpetually labouring to destroy our delights, our composure, our devotion to superior power. Of all the animals on earth we least know what is good for us. My opinion is, that what is best for us is our admiration of good." 
Homer
As with all translations, it's difficult to tell where Homer begins and Fagles ends, but regardless, the text is littered with great tidbits such as these that make it worth reading just by themselves. But despite Fagles' best efforts, I can't help feeling like there will forever be something lost in translation to readers not experiencing The Iliad in its native language. In English, Homer's great work unfortunately falls too frequently into a repetitiveness that lacks whatever poetic musicality it must have featured in Homeric Greek to instead become filler-esque bloat that drags down the entire work in its English form and hampers its flow.

Even despite that, this is a stunningly gorgeous read—even in the modern English language so far removed from its original Homeric Greek—and well worth a read for anyone interested in a fantastic, larger-than-life war story. It stands among the best ever penned, and I can't heap enough praise on Fagles' gorgeous English prose.

⭐⭐⭐