Book Review: The Odyssey by Homer, translated by Robert Fagles

All the hubbub around the recent movie inspired me to read the book. But first, I had to decide which translation to read. A helpful blog post described the salient features of four popular translations. I landed on the Falges’ translation because it was best for “narrative momentum”, with a “dramatic free verse” style. “Cinematic energy” was its strength and it was less faithful to the structure - all of these sounded exactly to my taste. It is freely available on the internet archive.

I knew little of Greek mythology when I started reading this book, and hadn’t watched the movie yet. Starting to read, I was immediately overwhelmed - so many people and places named and events alluded to! I had to keep looking them up online for context. 10 pages in, I stopped - it was too slow and tedious to look up so many things. However, after watching the movie I gained enough context for the characters and back stories to be able to read faster. Perhaps I should have started with the Illiad…

The writing, as promised by the blog, is indeed wonderful - a lovely example of the power of active verbs; something I was taught in writing classes. From sunrises, to sailing ships, from Odysseus’s lonely struggles in the ocean against mighty Poseidon’s wrath, to the description of how Menelaus tamed the Old Man of the Sea, the writing throbs with energy and momentum. I could clearly visualize events and follow the action. For example, the depiction of the monster Scylla in the movie pales in comparison to its description in the book:

“Scylla lurks inside it—the yelping horror,

yelping, no louder than any suckling pup,

but she’s a grisly monster, I assure you.

No one could look on her with any joy,

not even a god who meets her face-to-face …

She has twelve legs, all writhing, dangling down

and six long swaying necks, a hideous head on each,

each head barbed with a triple row of fangs, thickset,

packed tight—armed to the hilt with black death!”

It was a joy to just read the beautiful and memorable sentences. For example, Telemachus proclaims of the suitors that when Odysseus returns,

“… they’d all pray to be faster on their feet

than richer in bars of gold and heavy robes”

and tells his swineherd “Bashfulness, for a man in need, is no great friend” Although clearly written in verses, it doesn’t feel like a traditional poem - which for me was a huge advantage.

The book offers candid glimpses into ancient Greek society. In some aspects, disappointingly little has changed in the last 2500 years. Patriarchy, double standards, and treating women like property seemed the norm already back then. I longed for a righteous feminist outburst from Penelope - she clearly did not want to marry any of the suitors. So why didn’t she simply say so? Was she not allowed to? Did she really lead them on as some of the suitors claimed? If yes, then why? Was she hedging her bets? - but very surprisingly found it in Calypso instead; perhaps Homer believed such heretic ideas could only originate in gods. On the topic of gods, bribing them with regular sacrifices of cattle and wine seems to have been the favorite pastime of the rich. Such sacrifices were almost always followed by feasts. Given their almost daily occurrences, I wonder if the piety in reality masked the greedy desire for daily festivities. Either way, it seems that the gods’ blessings were invoked for every little task. And gods’ responses were seen in omens like thunder and more interestingly in bird behavior - people specialized in interpreting gods’ will through the actions of eagles and doves. And it goes without saying that all these festivities were paid for by peasants - in at least two instances kings casually declare that the costs of gifts they give would be recovered by levying more taxes; the tyranny of the rich is not novel. A couple of interesting tidbits: ancient Greeks knew about grafting, as evidenced by a description of a domestic olive tree grafted onto a wild one and they seemed to venerate Egyptians - describing them as children of the healing gods and heaping praise on their herbs.

I was struck by the similarity to Indian culture. Like the ancient Greeks, Indians (pre-British) would welcome travelers (usually pilgrims) into their home and share their meal and provide a roof to sleep under. Like the ancient Greeks, Indians (still) are very inquisitive about the private lives of strangers. Rituals for the gods (including the use of incense) and the libations are also common in India, but not usually with meat and wine. However, unlike in ancient Greece, Indian gods never involve themselves in the day to day lives of humans. You’d need years and years of penance and meditation in harsh conditions for a brief glimpse and perhaps a boon if you’re lucky.

This leads us to the impact of gods on people. Given how frequently they interfered in seemingly trivial actions of people, one could even ask if the people had any free will. The people did believe that their actions were driven by gods’ wills. For example, Helen blames Aphrodite for inciting her to abandon her home. King Alcinous says - rather elegantly trivializing the horrors of war - of the destruction of Troy:

“That is the god’s work, spinning threads of death

Through the lives of mortal men,

And all to make a song for those to come …”

King Menelaus was stranded because he didn’t sacrifice to the gods before setting off. While the gods are certainly petty, I don’t think they can be blamed for the fates of humans. Odysseus, who likes to call himself the unluckiest man alive, not content with escaping the cyclops, repeatedly taunted him, earning the wrath of his father Poseidon. His crew ate the cattle of the Sun despite being warned not to. Aegisthus was specifically told by the gods to not covet another man’s wife - he ignored the warnings and paid for it with his life. So, I agree with Zeus, when he grumbles that people always blame the gods for reaping the results of their choices.

“Ah how shameless — the way these mortals blame the gods.

From us alone, they say, come all their miseries, yes,

but they themselves, with their own reckless ways,

compound their pains beyond their proper share.”

Now for the elephant in the room: what kind of man was Odysseus? Friends, family and even gods sometimes call him “great.” However, nothing I read convinced me of this. Granted, I am viewing his actions with 21st century eyes, but still. His friends constantly claim he was desperate to get home; yet he spent a whole year with Circe feasting on her island before he gave in to one of his crew’s demands to return home. Did he love his wife? He slept with Circe, Calypso and “his share” of the women he captured when he sacked cities. Was he a good warrior? Athena played a huge role in him killing the suitors in his palace. His attitude to others leaves much to be desired. When his nurse, an old lady who cared for him since he was a baby, recognizes him with tears of joy on his return, he grabs her throat and threatens her life if she reveals him to anyone! He tortures and kills his female servants who have been sleeping with the suitors. Overlooking his own philandering ways these last years, he tests Penelope’s devotion to him. He sacked cities and killed people who never harmed him, yet the suitors deserved death simply for eating a lot of his food? He kept getting help, but kept complaining how unlucky he was. In fact, he conveniently omits to mention the help he received when he tells his stories, e.g., the sea nymph Ino gives him a scarf that would carry him safely across the raging ocean between jagged rocks, but he never acknowledges her help when he recounts the tale. If all this wasn’t bad enough, Odysseus seems to be a pathological liar - unnecessarily inventing a character for himself with an extremely detailed backstory that includes murder and human trafficking, or twisting narratives to show him in a good light. This sly and cunning nature seems to be appreciated by Athena. I, however, do not.

From a narrative point of view, the novel would have benefited with some edits - at least by today’s standards. Minor characters like the swineherd Eumaeus, the murderous seer Theoclymenus, Irus, a random tramp in Ithaca, all get significant on-page presence for low to no part in the story. While this perhaps makes the story feel real, it causes substantial digressions.

My husband asked, after patiently listening to my rant about Odysseus, “So what was the point of the story?” That got me thinking. What was the point? Was there one? I first asked myself if there was any character development. Odysseus cries a lot, but it is unclear if that is because he repents his deeds (what nonsense I let slip through my teeth!) or because he’s feeling sorry for himself. Telemachus became bolder, but given his cruel outbursts at his mother and torture of his servants, he did not become more likable. Any lessons learnt? My only takeaway was that if the gods like you (for whatever reason), you’ll be successful. Perhaps, the epitome of respectability back then was to be god-fearing (as an Indian, I can completely believe that that could be a moral) and this story is really a warning of how you will lose your way if you anger the gods.

Overall, the Fagles’ translation of the Odyssey is a beautiful work of literature. Fagles does a great job enthralling the reader with his energetic writing - you can feel the churns of the sea, the pounding waves, the beautiful sunrises and more. The writing is elegant and memorable. You will learn a lot about life in ancient Greece. Homer is certainly imaginative in his work, and you’ll often find yourself incredulous at the turn of events. All these make the book worth reading, despite the long digressions.