bloodygranuaile (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodygranuaile) wrote2023-12-30 01:54 pm
bloodygranuaile) wrote2023-12-30 01:54 pm
Don't you think it's time to stop the chase around the ring
I was stoked to see that Emily Wilson was following up her translation of Homer’s The Odyssey with a translation of The Iliad, and like a big nerd I bought it the day it was published in September. Then like a big pretentious twerp I waited until December to read it because I figured that while The Odyssey had summer vibes, The Iliad had winter “stay inside and read violent epic poetry” vibes (previously on in this series: the Icelandic family sagas).
I have been more or less familiar with the story of the Trojan War since I was wee and reading Baby’s First Greek Mythology type books like the estimable D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths (which I still have), but I’m much less familiar with the specific story told in The Iliad, which only covers a period of a handful of days about nine years into the war. The abduction of Helen by Paris is old news, and Odysseus’ genius idea for the Trojan Horse has not yet been conceived. This drama revolves mainly around Achilles, the preternaturally strong champion of the Greeks, and Hector, the also-preternaturally-strong-but-not-as-strong-as-Achilles champion of Troy.
The basic plot of this episode within the Trojan War is thus: Agamemnon, the general of the Greek army, imprudently decides to get in a “who can be more full of themselves” contest with Achilles and steals Briseis, a “trophy” whom Achilles had “won” in a previous battle, thus insulting Achilles’ honor in front of the gods and everybody. Achilles is not one to sit down and take being so flexed upon, so he decides to do the manly thing and go sulk in his tent indefinitely, so that Agamemnon will be sorry he pissed him off and realize the Greeks can’t win this war without him. This might sound insanely immature on all sides but, with the intervention of many equally immature and petulant deities, it serves as the basis for many hundreds of pages of intense battle, atrocious violence, and political shenanigans as Hector repeatedly kicks the Greeks’ asses just to the edge of total destruction. There are duels and melees and negotiations and gods spiriting their favorites off the battlefield at politically inopportune times, and Agamemnon eventually repents of pissing off Achilles for no good reason and tries to coax him back into fighting with lavish gifts and the return of Briseis. Achilles, however, is exceeding wroth in a way that only a strong young man who makes his living by violence and domination can afford to be, and even then “can afford” is a bit of a stretch because bad things are about to happen for Achilles.
Patroclus, Achilles’ best friend/closest comrade/work wife, manages to beg leave of Achilles to put on Achilles’ fancy and easily distinguishable armor and go strike some fear into the hearts of the Trojans. This he does, but then he makes the mistake of chasing after Hector to fight him in single combat, even though he isn’t actually Achilles and everybody knows that Achilles is the only player in this game more overpowered than Hector. Hector then slays Patroclus. The Greeks put up a vicious fight to bring Patroclus’ body back to camp so the Trojans can’t desecreate it. Achilles stops being mad at Agamemnon because now he has a new target for his wrath: Hector. Achilles gets some new, even fancier, even more easily distinguishable armor from the forge god Hephaestus, because Hector has stolen his old armor off of Patrocles’ corpse, and returns to the war with a vengeance, specifically vengeance upon Hector, whose ass he is single-mindedly determined to kick. He does this, and then he drags Hector’s corpse back to the Greek camp, ties it to his chariot by the heels, and drives it around Patroclus’ burial mound every day. This is a shocking atrocity to both the Greeks and Trojans, even several millennia before the Geneva Convention, where the difference between war and a war crime was nowhere close to being conceived of. Eventually the gods knock some sense into Achilles to the point where, when Hector’s father comes to Achilles’ tent, alone except for an elderly attendant, bearing lavish gifts and supplicating Achilles most abjectly, Achilles relents and lets him take Hector home to bury, having finally realized that no amount of vengeance is going to bring Patroclus back to life and he’s already done about as much vengeance as it is humanly possible to do, so he might as well take the compensation and move on.
I cannot overstate the degree to which this is one of those stories where everyone is an asshole and basically the whole story is about people behaving badly, mostly of the “overweening arrogance” variety. That this does not make the story one iota less gripping is a testament to how well deserved its status as a classic is. Wilson’s translation is readable and rhythmic, and its straightforward language doesn’t paper over the graphic violence and the tantrums and boasting by the dramatis personae. There’s a lot of people getting their brains turned to mush, and their arms and legs cut off, and their nipples stabbed, and all that kind of stuff you can’t show on television (not network television, anyway). Some of the blow-by-blow, anatomically implausible violence and lengthy speeches in the melee scenes kind of remind me of D&D sessions in a way that I find a little silly but also endearing. One of Hector’s horses is named Sparkle, which also sounds like D&D shit in a way that I find endearing.
I came into this book mainly attached to my boy Odysseus, ‘cause I knew in advance that later in the war he’s going to save the day by being clever and then he’s going to have a very bad time getting home again, but as I kept reading I also found myself getting attached to Diomedes, the guy who basically gets stuck taking on the Big Damn Hero role with his spear for the Greeks when Achilles is sulking in his tent, and on at least one occasion ends up fighting the gods, even though this is generally considered a bad idea (in this case it’s OK; he got permission from Athena). Ajax and Ajax are underdeveloped as characters, sorry Homer.
There is really nothing I can say about this poem that hasn’t been said by people much smarter and more erudite than me, and much better versed in the classics. All I can say is that reading the classics always makes me wish I’d been brave enough to follow up on being a little Greek mythology girlie and actually studied the classics at a not-baby level. Also, in the translator’s note, Emily Wilson says that studying the classics has changed the way she thinks about things and now she notices when her feet are not “well-oiled” when she puts on her sandals, and now I want to take Emily Wilson out for a pedicure. (The modern equivalent of “well-oiled” is “moisturized” because we’ve invented/discovered beauty products in addition to olive oil, like soap and shea butter. So now I’m also gonna think about “well-oiled” every time I lotion my feet, probably.)
Overall, great story, great translation. The iambic pentameter really feels like it wants to be read out loud, which I think is one of the most important parts of translating epic poetry but apparently is really hard and a lot of people suck at it. Emily Wilson is not one of those people; she has done a fantastic job with both Homeric poems and I take my hat off to her.
I have been more or less familiar with the story of the Trojan War since I was wee and reading Baby’s First Greek Mythology type books like the estimable D’Aulaire’s Book of Greek Myths (which I still have), but I’m much less familiar with the specific story told in The Iliad, which only covers a period of a handful of days about nine years into the war. The abduction of Helen by Paris is old news, and Odysseus’ genius idea for the Trojan Horse has not yet been conceived. This drama revolves mainly around Achilles, the preternaturally strong champion of the Greeks, and Hector, the also-preternaturally-strong-but-not-as-strong-as-Achilles champion of Troy.
The basic plot of this episode within the Trojan War is thus: Agamemnon, the general of the Greek army, imprudently decides to get in a “who can be more full of themselves” contest with Achilles and steals Briseis, a “trophy” whom Achilles had “won” in a previous battle, thus insulting Achilles’ honor in front of the gods and everybody. Achilles is not one to sit down and take being so flexed upon, so he decides to do the manly thing and go sulk in his tent indefinitely, so that Agamemnon will be sorry he pissed him off and realize the Greeks can’t win this war without him. This might sound insanely immature on all sides but, with the intervention of many equally immature and petulant deities, it serves as the basis for many hundreds of pages of intense battle, atrocious violence, and political shenanigans as Hector repeatedly kicks the Greeks’ asses just to the edge of total destruction. There are duels and melees and negotiations and gods spiriting their favorites off the battlefield at politically inopportune times, and Agamemnon eventually repents of pissing off Achilles for no good reason and tries to coax him back into fighting with lavish gifts and the return of Briseis. Achilles, however, is exceeding wroth in a way that only a strong young man who makes his living by violence and domination can afford to be, and even then “can afford” is a bit of a stretch because bad things are about to happen for Achilles.
Patroclus, Achilles’ best friend/closest comrade/work wife, manages to beg leave of Achilles to put on Achilles’ fancy and easily distinguishable armor and go strike some fear into the hearts of the Trojans. This he does, but then he makes the mistake of chasing after Hector to fight him in single combat, even though he isn’t actually Achilles and everybody knows that Achilles is the only player in this game more overpowered than Hector. Hector then slays Patroclus. The Greeks put up a vicious fight to bring Patroclus’ body back to camp so the Trojans can’t desecreate it. Achilles stops being mad at Agamemnon because now he has a new target for his wrath: Hector. Achilles gets some new, even fancier, even more easily distinguishable armor from the forge god Hephaestus, because Hector has stolen his old armor off of Patrocles’ corpse, and returns to the war with a vengeance, specifically vengeance upon Hector, whose ass he is single-mindedly determined to kick. He does this, and then he drags Hector’s corpse back to the Greek camp, ties it to his chariot by the heels, and drives it around Patroclus’ burial mound every day. This is a shocking atrocity to both the Greeks and Trojans, even several millennia before the Geneva Convention, where the difference between war and a war crime was nowhere close to being conceived of. Eventually the gods knock some sense into Achilles to the point where, when Hector’s father comes to Achilles’ tent, alone except for an elderly attendant, bearing lavish gifts and supplicating Achilles most abjectly, Achilles relents and lets him take Hector home to bury, having finally realized that no amount of vengeance is going to bring Patroclus back to life and he’s already done about as much vengeance as it is humanly possible to do, so he might as well take the compensation and move on.
I cannot overstate the degree to which this is one of those stories where everyone is an asshole and basically the whole story is about people behaving badly, mostly of the “overweening arrogance” variety. That this does not make the story one iota less gripping is a testament to how well deserved its status as a classic is. Wilson’s translation is readable and rhythmic, and its straightforward language doesn’t paper over the graphic violence and the tantrums and boasting by the dramatis personae. There’s a lot of people getting their brains turned to mush, and their arms and legs cut off, and their nipples stabbed, and all that kind of stuff you can’t show on television (not network television, anyway). Some of the blow-by-blow, anatomically implausible violence and lengthy speeches in the melee scenes kind of remind me of D&D sessions in a way that I find a little silly but also endearing. One of Hector’s horses is named Sparkle, which also sounds like D&D shit in a way that I find endearing.
I came into this book mainly attached to my boy Odysseus, ‘cause I knew in advance that later in the war he’s going to save the day by being clever and then he’s going to have a very bad time getting home again, but as I kept reading I also found myself getting attached to Diomedes, the guy who basically gets stuck taking on the Big Damn Hero role with his spear for the Greeks when Achilles is sulking in his tent, and on at least one occasion ends up fighting the gods, even though this is generally considered a bad idea (in this case it’s OK; he got permission from Athena). Ajax and Ajax are underdeveloped as characters, sorry Homer.
There is really nothing I can say about this poem that hasn’t been said by people much smarter and more erudite than me, and much better versed in the classics. All I can say is that reading the classics always makes me wish I’d been brave enough to follow up on being a little Greek mythology girlie and actually studied the classics at a not-baby level. Also, in the translator’s note, Emily Wilson says that studying the classics has changed the way she thinks about things and now she notices when her feet are not “well-oiled” when she puts on her sandals, and now I want to take Emily Wilson out for a pedicure. (The modern equivalent of “well-oiled” is “moisturized” because we’ve invented/discovered beauty products in addition to olive oil, like soap and shea butter. So now I’m also gonna think about “well-oiled” every time I lotion my feet, probably.)
Overall, great story, great translation. The iambic pentameter really feels like it wants to be read out loud, which I think is one of the most important parts of translating epic poetry but apparently is really hard and a lot of people suck at it. Emily Wilson is not one of those people; she has done a fantastic job with both Homeric poems and I take my hat off to her.