“As soon as Dawn with her rose-red fingers shone once more […]”
Homer’s Odyssey is one of the 500lb (or 226.796kg) gorillas I’ve been reading as of late. I came to it strangely. You see, eventually I want to read James Joyce’s Ulysses (a gorilla estimated to weigh a half-tonne). I knew that it was going to be a slog, so I did some research in preparation. Lo, it was suggested I read The Odyssey, as Ulysses tends to make reference to it. And thus, the Fates, if not Athena herself, recommended my next book.
The Odyssey isn’t a novel, but rather a song/poem much in the same way as the ancient epic, Gilgamesh (and if you don’t know what that is – and no, it’s not a reference to the evil magician from the Smurfs – don’t worry about it. I’m just trying to find another example that isn’t also another Greek work from the same period). It was never originally written down, but rather carried from person to person in the same way you would hand someone a CD of a song you’d like them to hear. Preserved through history as an oratorical epic, Homer’s Odyssey is an account of Odysseus, the Achaean king/hero, and his Job-like 10 year quest to return to his homeland, Ithica, having fought a decade before in the Battle of Troy (recounted in Homer’s earlier work, The Illiad).
What’s immediately engaging about the telling of The Odyssey is its surprisingly non-linear construction. We don’t start with the fall of Troy and Odysseus’ return to Ithica. Rather, we begin with the immortal goddess, Athena, seeking to undo the curse laid upon Odysseus from the earthquake god, Poseidon. From there, she confronts Odysseus’ son, Telemachus, living with his mother, Penelope, in Odysseus’ Ithican palace, now taken over with young suitors angling to wed Odysseus’ abandoned wife, laying waste to his kingdom in the process (note: the Greek gods tended not to come down and appear to mortals as themselves, but rather as fellow mortals – presumably shy folk that they are).
It is only after this substantial preamble that we – in filmic terms – cut to Odysseus, stranded on the isle of the immortal goddess, Calypso, where she has kept him for years as her…well…is “recalcitrant love-slave” applicable? Yes? Okay then. It is only through Athena’s indirect intervention that Odysseus is allowed to leave and finish his journey. Along the way, he is eventually allowed to provide the details of his painful journey since the fall of Troy: the land of the Cyclops, the Sirens, the Lotus Eaters, the thunder of Zeus, the House of Death, the nature of Poseidon’s curse. If you have any inkling or interest in swashbuckling adventure, heroic tragedy, monsters, mythology, or men transformed into sheep, there is no reason not to follow Odysseus’ tale.
Even preserved in verse-form (read: there’s half as much text on the page as in a typical novel), The Odyssey moves at a fast clip – though its thickness may intimidate you at first glance on the shelf. It’s a legendary tale that’s not like cough syrup to read – in fact, you may just find inspiration in its construction, evocativeness, and imagination.
The Odyssey, by Homer (ISBN: 978-0140268867) is available at a fine independent bookseller near you, or at any number of online sources. Please note: this review is based on the award-winning 1996 translation by Robert Fagles, who also produced a version of Homer’s Illiad. For those on the fence, there is a very readable summary of the book and its history here.
