The Odyssey (Oxford World's Classics Hardback Collection) Read online

next to the fine mixing-bowl; he was the only one who hated

  the suitors’ reckless deeds, and was indignant with them all.

  The narrator’s comment on Leodes’ decency is expanded by Leodes himself in his appeal to Odysseus (22.312–19), yet Odysseus rejects the supplication and cuts off Leodes’ head while he is still speaking (22.326–9). Thus both Athena and her human protégé kill the two more virtuous suitors with equal ruthlessness. The parameters of vengeance among both gods and mortals are seen to be similarly harsh — but as we saw above with Odysseus’ men and the Phaeacians, such punishment (based on collective responsibility in the case of Amphinomus and Leodes) is entirely predictable and avoidable, and the destruction of all the suitors (without exception) embodies the stern but fair system of Homeric justice.

  Fortunately, as mention of Athena reminds us, the divine system is not just about punishment of the wicked, but has a positive side too, not least in the gods’ protection of their favourites. Athena’s care for Odysseus is also a feature of the Iliad, where (for example) the goddess protects him in battle (especially in Book 11) and helps him win the running-race at the Funeral Games for Patroclus (in Book 23). In the Odyssey, with its focus on her favourite hero and a much smaller cast of divine characters (compared to the Iliad), Athena is even more central to the unfolding of the plot and to Odysseus’ success. From raising the issue of his return in the divine council of Book 1 through to settling the peace on Ithaca in Book 24, Athena’s assistance is crucial.

  But why does she do all this for a mere mortal? Their relationship is unusually close, and the reason for this emerges at their first meeting in the poem, as Odysseus finally reaches the shore of Ithaca in Book 13. When Odysseus tries to dupe Athena (who is disguised as a young man) with a lying tale, the goddess strokes him with her hand (13.287–8) — a gesture that elsewhere evokes the closeness of mother and son or the intimacy of man and wife — and remarks fondly on how similar they are to one another (13.296–302):

  ‘Come now, let us not talk like this any longer, since we are both

  well versed in deception: among mortals you surpass all men in

  plotting and tale-spinning, while among all the gods I am well

  known for cleverness and cunning. But you did not recognize

  Pallas Athena, daughter of Zeus, I who have always stood

  by you in all your trials and have watched over you; it was

  I who made sure you were welcomed by all the Phaeacians.’

  The goddess clearly recognizes herself in Odysseus, so much so that, when Odysseus persists in his caution and distrust, asking whether this really is Ithaca or is she out to deceive him, Athena reacts not with anger (as one might expect, based on other divine–human interactions), but with renewed affection (13.330–2): ‘This is always the way that the mind within you works! | And that is why I cannot abandon you in your unhappy state, | because you are so shrewd, sagacious, and firm of purpose.’ Though not based on ties of blood (as with Poseidon and Polyphemus), Athena’s desire to protect Odysseus is no less personal, based on her strong sense of similarity and ­sympathy.

  In conclusion, the Homeric poems provide their audience with a compelling picture of the world, and of the ways in which gods and humans act and interact within it. For all their personal biases, the gods act as guarantors of justice, showing a collective concern for morality, which is seen most clearly in the punishment of the suitors.

  Marriage and family life

  The importance of domestic life and personal relationships is often stressed in the Iliad, but the post-war context of the Odyssey and its focus on the hero’s return to both family and homeland make these themes even more prominent. Odysseus returns in the nick of time to prevent the loss of everything — his wife, wealth, kingdom, and identity. Moreover, the restoration of the family unit is the climax of the narrative, coming after Odysseus’ vengeance upon the suitors (and not before, as in other versions of the ‘returning husband’ story).

  Books 1–4 (known since antiquity as the ‘Telemachy’) present ­Telemachus’ search for news of the absent Odysseus. We see the son, who grew up fatherless, gradually come of age among the wider community of adult men, as he hears exemplary stories of his father from former comrades, Nestor in Pylos (Book 3) and Menelaus in Sparta (Book 4). The two storylines (‘return of the father’ and ‘maturation of the son’) eventually converge in Book 16, as father and son are reunited, and Telemachus takes on the self-control and concealment of his father, enabling them to exact vengeance together. As Odysseus prepares to throw off his disguise and kill the suitors, Telemachus takes his stand beside him, demonstrating that heroic excellence has been successfully transmitted from father to son (21.431–4): ­‘Telemachus, | the dear son of godlike Odysseus, slung his sharp sword | about him and grasped his spear firmly, and took his stand | by his father, next to his seat, armed in flashing bronze.’

  At the beginning of the poem, however, we see disorder in Odysseus’ household and kingdom. His prolonged absence has created a dangerous power-vacuum, since Penelope, as a woman, cannot take on a full role in governing Ithaca, while Telemachus is as yet too immature to assert his independence and authority. These tensions erupt in a dispute between mother and son, as Telemachus rebukes Penelope when she objects to the bard Phemius singing about the Greeks’ return from Troy (1.353–9):

  ‘So let your heart and spirit be strong to listen; Odysseus

  is not the only man at Troy to lose the day of his return

  home, since many other men perished there as well.

  Go back to your rooms and take charge of your own tasks,

  the loom and the distaff, and order your women servants

  to go about their work. Talk must be men’s concern, all of

  them, and mine especially, for the power in the house is mine.’

  Since Athena (in disguise) had just instructed Telemachus to behave like an adult male, expelling the suitors from the house and arranging for his mother’s remarriage (1.272–8, 296–7), his sudden assertiveness, which astonishes both Penelope and the suitors (1.360–1, 381–2), marks the beginning of his growth to manhood. But at this stage (before his meetings with Nestor and Menelaus, and before he can learn from Odysseus) he is not yet ready, and his claim, ‘the power in the house is mine’, is shown to be premature: the suitors ignore his demand that they leave the house, and Telemachus himself breaks down in tears as he addresses the Ithacan assembly (2.80–1).

  Telemachus’ development as a man is one part of the restoration of family life, but by far the most important element is the reunion of husband and wife. The marriage of Odysseus and Penelope is contrasted with a variety of flawed relationships, particularly those of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, and Menelaus and Helen, which act as foils to the hero’s ideal union. Thus, for example, the shade of Agamemnon advises Odysseus in the underworld (11.441–5):

  ‘For this reason [i.e. because Clytemnestra killed me] you too should

  never be indulgent to your wife,

  nor give her a full account of everything that is in your mind;

  you should tell her some of it and keep the rest concealed.

  Still, Odysseus, your wife is certainly not likely to murder you;

  she is utterly loyal, circumspect Penelope, Icarius’ daughter,

  and the thoughts in her heart are always right and proper.’

  And when Telemachus visits Menelaus and Helen in Sparta, they tell him very different stories from the Trojan War. Helen recalls how she helped the disguised Odysseus escape from a secret mission to Troy because (or so she claims) she desired to return home to her dear husband Menelaus (4.235–64). Menelaus, on the other hand, recalls an episode from the end of the war, as the Greeks crouched inside the Trojan horse; Helen imitated the voice of every Greek hero’s wife, trying to make them cry out and reveal their stratagem (4.266–89). The contrasting tales — was Helen an unwilling prisoner or a scheming traitor who tried
to get all the Greeks killed? — illustrate the instability of their marriage.

  Odysseus’ commitment to Penelope is tested by a variety of women, both mortal and divine. The goddesses Calypso and Circe delay him in different ways. Calypso saves him from shipwreck at the end of his wanderings, but then keeps him as her (increasingly unwilling) lover for seven years, before finally succumbing to pressure from Zeus to send him on his way. Circe is more overtly hostile, turning some of his men into pigs, but Odysseus subdues her and departs (albeit after a year of lovemaking). Calypso, whose name (‘concealer’, from kaluptō, ‘I hide’) suits her function, offers Odysseus immortality, but even this is not enough to deflect him from his desire to return home (5.203–24). The mortal Nausicaa, princess of the Phaeacians, is the last temptation. Their encounter is structured around the familiar ‘handsome stranger meets eligible princess’ story-pattern, and the fairy-tale possibility that Odysseus might marry her (hinted at by her own father Alcinous, 7.309–16) creates great tension and interest in Books 6–8.

  Penelope, the goal of Odysseus’ quest, represents the ideal wife (within the poem’s patriarchal culture): she oversees the domestic sphere and preserves Odysseus’ kingdom without usurping his authority, which is reaffirmed when he returns. Throughout the poem it is made clear that Penelope is not only stunningly beautiful (the suitors go wild whenever she appears to them in the banqueting hall), but also highly intelligent. Indeed, she proves herself more than a match for the clever Odysseus himself, whom she ultimately outwits. For as he stands before her, bespattered with the blood of the suitors, she refuses to believe that this man is her husband. Knowing, however, that their marriage bed is immovable, since Odysseus had built it from the trunk of an olive tree when the house was first constructed, Penelope orders that it be moved, which prompts the angry Odysseus to tell the story of the bed’s making (a secret shared by him and ­Penelope), thus confirming his identity for his wife (23.173–230). Penelope’s trick shows her to be her husband’s equal in cleverness and the skilled use of language, and proves their worthiness to be reunited as husband and wife.

  Penelope’s relationship with Odysseus thus embodies the Homeric ideal of marriage, which presents women’s excellence as complementary to men’s and no less essential to a flourishing human society. Indeed, a harmonious marriage is seen as central to a good life. This cultural ideal of harmony between the sexes is summed up in the notion of homophrosynē, or ‘like-mindedness’, which Odysseus hopes Nausicaa will enjoy (6.180–5):

  ‘ . . . may the gods grant you all that you desire in your heart,

  and may they bestow on you a husband, a house, and good

  harmony of minds (homophrosynē); there is nothing better

  or more powerful

  than this, when a man and his wife keep house in sympathy

  of mind (homophroneonte noēmasin)  —  a great grief to

  their enemies, but a joy to those who

  wish them well; and they themselves are highly esteemed.’

  It is this principle of harmony that underpins the marriage of Odysseus and Penelope, and its illustration by Penelope’s final trick (the marriage bed) makes a fitting climax to their story. Their positive relationship, in contrast to the negative models of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra or Menelaus and Helen, shows the benefits that come from a balanced partnership between the sexes, and celebrates the important roles performed by both women and men in Homeric society.

  NOTE ON THE TEXT AND EXPLANATORY MATERIALS

  The text of the Odyssey translated here is the Oxford Classical Text edited by T. W. Allen (2nd edn. Oxford, 1917–19). The Explanatory Notes begin with a succinct summary of each book and aim to clarify mythical references, place-names, and the like, while also discussing selected passages in the light of the key themes covered in the Introduction. References given in both the Explanatory Notes and the Index of Personal Names are to the book and line number in the translation. The Select Bibliography offers a brief guide to further reading in English.

  NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION

  This translation respects as far as possible the line numeration in standard editions of Homer, which means that references to the original text can easily be matched to the line numbers in the margin of this version. It does not claim to be ‘poetic’; my aim has been to use a straightforward English register and to keep closely to the Greek, allowing Homeric directness and power to speak for itself. The Odyssey employs a greater variation of voices than the Iliad, from the elevated to the everyday, and I am aware that some readers may find the occasional shift from current to archaic idiom awkward; all I can say is that this is the way in which Homer has led me.

  I have benefited greatly from the criticism and encouragement of friends in preparing this version, notably Peter Jones, Alistair Elliott, and James Morwood. Bill Allan has been the ideal collaborator. I owe an enormous debt to Paddy Johnston, who read and commented on every word with care; his ear for the telling phrase, and deep knowledge of seafaring and rural life, both improved my early efforts and shed a new light on Homer’s world. All surviving infelicities are entirely my own. As always, Judith Luna at OUP was wise, constant, and supportive, everything an editor should be; and Jeff New went beyond copy-editing to suggest useful and clarifying suggestions of his own.

  Anthony Verity

  SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

  This is a highly selective list, limited to books in English; more detailed bibliographies can be found in the suggested works.

  Commentaries

  Bowie, A. M., Homer: Odyssey XIII and XIV (Cambridge, 2013).

  De Jong, I. J. F., A Narratological Commentary on the Odyssey (Cambridge, 2001).

  Garvie, A. F., Homer: Odyssey VI–VIII (Cambridge, 1994).

  Heubeck, A., West, S. R., and Hainsworth, J. B., A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey Books 1–8 (Oxford, 1988).

  Heubeck, A., and Hoekstra, A., A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey Books 9–16 (Oxford, 1989).

  Russo, J., Fernandez-Galiano, M., and Heubeck, A., A Commentary on Homer’s Odyssey Books 17–24 (Oxford, 1992).

  Rutherford, R. B., Homer: Odyssey XIX and XX (Cambridge, 1992).

  Stanford, W. B., Homer: Odyssey, 2 vols. (London, 1958–9).

  Steiner, D., Homer: Odyssey XVII and XVIII (Cambridge, 2010).

  Companions to Homer

  De Jong, I. J. F. (ed.), Homer: Critical Assessments, 4 vols. (London, 1999).

  Doherty, L. E. (ed.), Oxford Readings in Homer’s Odyssey (Oxford, 2009).

  Finkelberg, M. (ed.), The Homer Encyclopedia, 3 vols. (Oxford, 2011).

  Fowler, R. L. (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Homer (Cambridge, 2005).

  Morris, I., and Powell, B. (eds.), A New Companion to Homer (Leiden, 1998).

  Wace, A. J. B., and Stubbings, F. H. (eds.), A Companion to Homer (London, 1962).

  Critical Studies

  Austin, N., Archery at the Dark of the Moon: Poetic Problems in Homer’s Odyssey (Berkeley, 1975).

  Burgess, J. S., The Tradition of the Trojan War in Homer and the Epic Cycle (Baltimore, 2001).

  Camps, W. A., An Introduction to Homer (Oxford, 1980).

  Clarke, H. W. (ed.), Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Odyssey (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1985).

  Clarke, M., Flesh and Spirit in the Songs of Homer (Oxford, 1999).

  Clay, J. S., The Wrath of Athena: Gods and Men in the Odyssey (Princeton, 1983).

  Cohen, B. (ed.), The Distaff Side: Representing the Female in Homer’s Odyssey (Oxford, 1995).

  Edwards, A., Achilles in the Odyssey: Ideologies of Heroism in the Homeric Epic (Königstein, 1985).

  Fenik, B., Studies in the Odyssey (Wiesbaden, 1974).

  Ford, A., Homer and the Poetry of the Past (Ithaca, NY, 1992).

  Frame, D., The Myth of Return in Early Greek Epic (New Haven, 1978).

  Griffin, J., Homer: The Odyssey (2nd edn. Cambridge, 2004).

  Hainsworth, J. B., The Idea of Epic (Berkeley, 1
991).

  Janko, R., Homer, Hesiod and the Hymns: Diachronic Development in Epic Diction (Cambridge, 1982).

  Lord, A. B., The Singer of Tales (Cambridge, Mass., 1960).

  Moulton, C., Similes in the Homeric Poems (Göttingen, 1977).

  Murnaghan, S., Disguise and Recognition in the Odyssey (Princeton, 1987).

  Nagler, M. N., Spontaneity and Tradition: A Study in the Oral Art of Homer (Berkeley, 1974).

  Page, D., Folktales in Homer’s Odyssey (Cambridge, Mass., 1973).

  Parry, M., The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry, ed. A. Parry (Oxford, 1971).

  Reece, S., The Stranger’s Welcome: The Aesthetics of the Homeric Hospitality Scene (Ann Arbor, Mich., 1993).

  Ricks, D., The Shade of Homer: A Study in Modern Greek Poetry (Cambridge, 1989).

  Rubens, B., and Taplin, O., An Odyssey Round Odysseus: The Man and His Story Traced through Time and Place (London, 1989).

  Rutherford, R. B., Homer (2nd edn. Cambridge, 2013).

  Schein, S. L. (ed.), Reading the Odyssey (Princeton, 1996).

  Scodel, R., Listening to Homer: Tradition, Narrative, and Audience (Ann Arbor, Mich., 2002).

  Segal, C., Singers, Heroes, and Gods in the Odyssey (Ithaca, NY, 1994).

  Snodgrass, A., Homer and the Artists: Text and Picture in Early Greek Art (Cambridge, 1998).

  Stanford, W. B., The Ulysses Theme: A Study in the Adaptability of a Traditional Hero (2nd edn. Oxford, 1963).

  Thalmann, W. G., The Swineherd and the Bow: Representations of Class in the Odyssey (Ithaca, NY, 1998).

  Thornton, A., People and Themes in Homer’s Odyssey (London, 1970).

  Tracy, S. V., The Story of the Odyssey (Princeton, 1990).

  West, M. L., The East Face of Helicon: West Asiatic Elements in Greek Poetry and Myth (Oxford, 1997).