H.D.F. Kitto, The Greeks

May 29, 2010

Kitto wrote in the 1950s, so you won’t find the most recent archaeological evidence here, but this is a description of ancient and classical Greece any lover of that time and place would enjoy. In a few, readable pages Kitto gives us the political background, the accomplishments and what he conceives to be the meaning of The Greeks.

In his chapter on Homer, for example, he does not see Homer as a war reporter or a recorder of ancient traditions. Instead he sees him as the creator of a structure for his subject: the wrath of Achilles.

He is not going to write about the war, not even about part of it, but about the theme which he states so clearly in the first five verses. What shapes the poem is nothing external, like the war, but the tragic conception that a quarrel between two men should bring suffering, death and dishonour to so many others.

He devotes several chapters to the Polis – the Greek city state — and its centrality to the life of classical Greece. Here is a particular strength of The Greeks. Kitto admires individuals like Pericles , but he sees them in a society which shapes their thoughts and actions.


Caroline Alexander, The War That Killed Achilles

May 21, 2010

The subtitle of Caroline Alexander’s book about the Iliad is “The True Story of Homer’s Iliad and the Trojan War.” A little long-winded that subtitle, but accurate. This is a recounting of the Trojan War as Homer told it and Alexander now interprets it. The key players are the combatants, Achilles and Hector, and their leaders, Agamemnon and Priam.

The Iliad glorifies the heroes, but it does not glorify war. Achilles is not at Troy in fulfillment of a pledge to defend the husband of Helen of Troy (originally of Sparta). He is there for glory, and yet he is reluctant to fight. He quarrels with Agamemnon not just because Agamemnon took the girl Briseis who had been awarded to Achilles, but because in the taking Agamemnon showed himself to be capricious and unjust and out for more than his fair share. The booty awarded to a warrior after a battle or a raid honored  the glory he had won, but it was not the glory itself, as Achilles understood. Agamemnon did not understand, and probably did not care to.

The new reader of the Iliad comes to it, expecting the story of the Trojan War. It is not. It is the story of a few days during the tenth year of that war, days during which Achilles withdraws from the battle, Patroclos is killed, and Achilles returns to the fight and slays Hector. We know the rest of the story — the beauty contest of the three goddesses, the abduction of Helen by Paris, the death of Achilles, the Trojan horse, the sacking of Troy — from other sources. Alexander explains,

The complete story of the war was once told by a series of six other epics, known collectively as the Trojan War poems of the Epic Cycle. Composed  at various dates, all considerably later than the Iliad, they also, like the Iliad, drew on much older common traditions.

In Alexander’s analysis of the Iliad she points out many places where Homer’s poem is at variance from that older tradition. Homer skillfully chose his incidents and characters to make real the meaning of leadership, friendship and death in the lives of the Greek and Trojan warriors. He also shows us the grief of mothers and of aged fathers, as parallels are developed between the suffering of Priam and the sorrows of Achilles’ mother, Thetis.

Thetis is a sea nymph, one of the immortals. Married to a mortal man, she gave birth to the mortal Achilles. She is destined to see him die while she lives on. (This is a disadvantage to immortality I had not considered before.) Alexander develops the idea of the inequality of the relationship between the gods who will live forever and the men who will not.

Of greater interest than the nature of the gods per se is the nature of their relationship with mortal men. The Olympians of the Iliad know everything about the mortals they look down upon…. Rarely indolent, usually zestful and opinionated, the extended family of Zeus aggressively engages with the mortal world. In disguise, the Olympians move, speak, and act freely among men, partaking of the human experience….

By contrast, despite the busy flow of divine activity that drums through their lives, the Homeric heroes and heroines know very little about their gods.

Because they know so little, men must propitiate the gods out of a proper caution for the future. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. One has a sense here of why Homer still speaks and we still listen: the gods know all including the future toward which men must grope blindly.

There is so much in this book that my comments here are just picking threads off the surface. I enjoyed the comparisons with other myths and folktales, the analysis of names and language, the evidence from archaeology. Best of all was the differentiation of character that Alexander perceives in the Iliad and the way Homer’s construction of the story conveys his views of gods and war and men and, especially, Achilles.

Here was a hero with both the nature and the stature to think and speak as an individual, to stand apart and challenge heroic convention. In the hyperstated mortality of Achilles lay the origins of something potentially greater even than epic — and that was tragedy.


Classical Myth: Troy

May 4, 2010

A tourist took this picture of the walls of Troy today, a reminder that we all go down in the end. Some power fades slowly, some quickly and with violence.

This is my last post on Barry Powell’s Classical Myth. In it he devotes several chapters to the Trojan War, including what came before and what came after. His chronological account is valuable because we know the story in bits and pieces from many sources. Powell quotes extensively from Homer, but also from Euripides, Aeschylus and Virgil. He gives us the modern interpreters: Tennyson, Yeats, Cafavy and the artists — Lorrain and Turner and all those Greek pots.

That is how it stretches, from some unrecorded events in the Bronze Age through oral song through Homer’s version and then on through Ovid and Virgil to Marlowe and Shakespeare and James Joyce. We cannot top those towers or stop those stories.

If you are interested in myth, here my earlier posts on the book Classical Myth:

Getting Started

Myths of Creation

The Olympians

Fertility and Death

Heroes and Heroines


Virgil’s Aeneid

December 9, 2009

I come to The Aeneid very late in life. Perhaps we read some fragments in Miss Williams’ Latin class, but they were only that, fragments. The story? I knew that. Defeated at Troy, Aeneas travels to Italy and founds the city that will eventually be the Roman Empire. But, as someone said in our Ex Libris discussion yesterday, “It’s not the what, it’s the how.” Perhaps, if my Latin were strong enough, I would be charmed by the poetry but, in David West’s competent prose translation, I find I do not like the how. I did not like the violence, the gory details of hand-to-hand combat, Aeneas’ pious convictions of the importance of the future Rome, and the heartless caprices of the gods as they instigated yet more bloodshed.

This is totally different from my late-in-life reaction to The Odyssey. Homer pulled me in with the adventures of Odysseus, whose shortcomings were the tough reactions of one who had lived through many troubles. The intervention of the gods felt like the fickle finger of fate conveying the good luck and the bad.

Someone in the group said that Virgil tells a story about nation building by Aeneas, that pious future Roman. If so, did the nation really need to be built? Yes, another said, in Virgil’s time, the gates of war were closed after 200 years of struggle, and it was cause to celebrate the power and benevolence of Rome, the triumph of the rule of law.

“Take the pessimistic view,” was another suggestion. You are meant to be turned off by a violence that was the necessary precursor to reconciliation and peace, so that you will appreciate the value of what civilization has gained. Here is the sort of thing you find on almost any page of the later books:

Aeneas drove his mighty sword through the middle of the young man’s body, burying it to the hilt, the point going straight through his light shield…. Book 10, line 815

He then took the sword in the throat with full knowledge and poured out his life’s breath in wave upon wave of blood all over his armour. Book 10,line 908

I omit an example of what happens to a man’s brains when some mighty warrior cleaves his head with a battle ax.

It did seem like the glorification of violence to me or, more precisely the glorification of individual acts of courage, whether in a good cause or not. The warrior ethic. Life is unfair and men must suffer. They are admirable when they suffer bravely. Cities get built and the construction cost is high. From war may come peace, especially when all combatants are thoroughly exhausted. I wish Aeneas’ story could have reconciled me to these truths, but it did not.


What I Read in November 2009

December 1, 2009

Reading this past month reflects the Bison Bison project, my book groups, and preliminary reading for a future course on Louisa May Alcott and Zora Neale Hurston.

Henry James, The Wings of the Dove
Ernle Bradford, Ulysses Found
Chinua Achebe, A Man of the People
Stephen Ambrose, Crazy Horse and Custer: the Parallel Lives of Two American Warriors
Elizabeth Strout, Olive Kitteridge
Harriet Reisen, Louisa May Alcott: The Woman behind Little Women

I have posted on all of these except Olive Kitteridge. That book was a disappointment.

With my course over for now and the book groups taking some time off for the holidays, I look forward to some different kinds of reading.


Ernle Bradford, Ulysses Found

November 12, 2009

UlyssesDuring World War II, a young British sailor who served in the Mediterranean carried a copy of The Odyssey in his kit bag. He returned after the war to sail the Mediterranean on his own. He no longer saw the sea and the islands from the deck of a naval cruiser, but from a small, open boat like the one in which Odysseus journeyed.

Was it real, that Odyssey? Ernle Bradford believes that it was: not a trip to fantasyland but a description of the sea as the early Greeks came to know it. Adventure by adventure, he traces Odysseus’ voyage. He knows the positions of the stars in ancient times. He knows currents and wind directions and how fast you can travel with 12 men at the oars. More, he knows that Homer was chanting his poem to an audience who also knew these things.

Bradford has his feet on the ground with regard to men and affairs. In an early chapter he considers Odysseus’ family. Odysseus was a liar, with an eye for the main chance, and he came by these qualities honestly.

Laertes [father of Odysseus] had taken part in the greatest voyage of adventure and discovery then known, and could claim to be one of the pioneer sailors of the ancient world. It seems right that the should have had Ulysses for a son. It is for this reason that I ignore the slander of ancient commentators who have found Laertes’ wife Anticlea guilty of having palmed off on Laertes, as his own, her bastard son by Sisyphus. Ulysses traditionally had seafaring and royal blood on his father’s side, and a violent and somewhat crooked strain (even if reputedly of divine origin) on his mother’s.

But the real joy of the book is seeing the maritime world as Odysseus must have seen it. Can we make the harbor? Do we have water? Do we even know where we are going? Bradford takes us where Odysseus went; for example, when he left Calyso by raft and the raft was destroyed, he swam ashore:

Naturally he swam with the current, and after an unspecified length of time he found himself near the mouth of a small river. The river is one of the easiest things to find in the whole Odyssey. It is easy because small rivers or even streams are so rare in this part of the world…. The steam has ‘never-failing pools’, and it enters the sea at a point where there is an attractive beach…. …At the head of this bay the Ermones flows out into the Ionian Sea…. It is one of the most enchanting and idyllic places in the Mediterranean and it is the only place in Corfu which could correspond with the Homeric description…. Olive trees abound…. The basins into which the river Ermones plunger were used in comparatively recent times for wtermills, but they must always have been used by women for the family washing….

Odysseus has traveled almost 3,000 years to reach us, and he does reach us in Ulysses Found. Bradford shows us Odysseus’ sea, his islands, and creates for us a journey home that was a very real trip.


My Odyssey

October 19, 2009

I have just completed Homer’s Odyssey in a prose translation by Rieu and Rieu. How could I reach such an advanced age without having read it? Yes, I did know the story, but that’s not the same thing at all. Like knowing the plot of Hamlet without ever reading or seeing the play. About 30 years ago I stumbled through the Iliad. I didn’t like the Iliad very much: too many gods, too much blood and mayhem, too many petty quarrels over booty. There’s plenty of blood and booty in the Odyssey also, with many appearances by Athena of the bright eyes in various guises, but the feeling I have for it is entirely different.

Odysseus is a true Greek hero, brave but full of flaws. He looks for more booty instead of going straight home to wife and child. He enters the Cyclops cave without an invitation and eats his cheese, no less. Not satisfied to get away after losing several of his men, he has to taunt the blinded giant who is then almost able to sink his boat. We constantly hear that Odysseus is resourceful, clever, cunning. He is all these things, but he is also curious, hot headed and more than a little greedy. Again, while sitting in disguise among the riotous suiters of his wife Penelope, he almost blows the whole thing by provoking a fight. He is no gentle soul. When the old nurse recognizes him, he grips her by the throat:

I am indeed home after twenty years of grief and touble. But, since a god has revealed it to you, keep your moth shut and let not a soul in the house learn the truth. Otherwise I tell you plainly — and you know I make no idle threats — that if the gods deliver these fine Suitors into my hands I won’t spare you, though you’re my own nurse, on the day when I put the rest of the maids in my palace to death.

In the Odyssey, we travel in a different time, a time recorded by Homer over 2500 years ago but set in  an even earlier age. Men are violent, seeking food, women and treasure. They also seek adventure. They want to see the world. They know they are not perfect, yet they glory in such strength as they have and fear death. They are us, or we are them, but the focus shifts slightly, sometimes clear and sometimes fuzzy. Still, I think we can imagine them more clearly than they could have imagined us.


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