title: The Odyssey by: Homer published: 2017-11-07 read: 2023-11 preview

A new translation of the Odyssey, by Emily Wilson, published in 2017. This is the first time I am reading the ‘original’ book; of course, the story I know, and I’ve read some versions around this epic.

To be honest it took me a while to purchase. Do I really want to read a 700-page long, 3000-year old book? Is it at least palatable, a good read? Will I have my Ulysses moment? And, it’s in verse, duh, can I cope with that?

Well, I did buy it. And I’m not going to bore you with a short version of the story. You probably know it. But did you know that Homer, the author of this book, was probably not a person? Or perhaps was? But could have been a group of people, or anything that works? That, and other analyses of the book create the prologue of this vast volume, and already is an entertaining read.

And so the book begins.

Tell me about a complicated man.
Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost
when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy,
and where he went, and who he met, the pain
he suffered in the storms at sea, and how
he worked to save his life and bring his men
back home. He failed to keep them safe; poor fools,
they ate the Sun God’s cattle, and the god
kept them from home. Now goddess, child of Zeus,
tell the old story for our modern times.
Find the beginning.

Oh, I can read that! One of the most striking features of Wilson’s translation is her commitment to clarity and readability. Instead of using an archaic and elaborate style, Wilson takes a direct, modern approach, using precise language. While preserving the story’s accessibility poetic nature.

And also, in the translation, Odysseus is not all good, presenting him as a complex and multifaceted hero. Her translation clearly showed the ambiguity of his decisions and the consequences of his homecoming.

Odysseus ripped off his rags. Now naked,
he leapt upon the threshold with his bow
and quiverfull of arrows, which he tipped
out in a rush before his feet, and spoke.
“Playtime is over. I will shoot again,
towards another mark no man has hit.
Apollo, may I manage it!”
He aimed his deadly arrow at Antinous.
The young man sat there, just about to lift
his golden goblet, swirling wine around,
ready to drink. He had no thought of death.
How could he? Who would think a single man,
among so many banqueters, would dare
to risk dark death, however strong he was?
Odysseus aimed at his throat, then shot.
The point pierced all the way through his soft neck.
He flopped down to the side and his cup slipped
out of his hand, and then thick streams of blood
gushed from his nostrils. His foot twitched and knocked
the table down; food scattered on the ground.
The bread and roasted meat were soiled with blood.

I loved this book.