Seoul Hero

After a very busy last few weeks, I haven’t had much time for writing, but I now have a moment to cover books 10 and 11 of “Homer’s” Odyssey.

One of the two things that struck me most was that I felt that these books had that “Homeric” voice so familiar from The Iliad. The characteristic epithets appeared, characteristic in their quantity as well as quality. Also, Odysseus appears more like the Odysseus of the war epic, not the whitewashed saint that Telemachus and Penelope make him out to be. For instance, the episode where Odysseus’ men become resentful of his position and possessions tells against the idealistic portrayal drawn so often in the earlier books. The scene from the realm of the dead also exhibits many points of contact with The Iliad. That scene made me chuckle, actually, when Odysseus questions the ghosts of the notable ladies one by one–always a ladies’ man, even when they’re dead! The graphic manner in which Odysseus’ killing of the stag is described in Book 10 also recalls the descriptions of the individual combats of the war epic. Meanwhile, the presence of the description of the hospitality at Circe’s house (complete with the “golden pitcher” and the “silver basin”), ties this material into the earlier books, especially the first four.

The other really notable point, for me, was the presence of numerous stories within stories. Here is a brief diagram showing what I mean:

Various other minor thoughts: the scene with the dead reminds me of many from movies and literature, including an episode from Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. The description of Circe, singing so beautifully as she works at “her great immortal loom, her enchanting web a shimmering glory” reminded me of Tennyson’s Lady of Shallot: “She left the web, she left the loom..singing in her song she died, the Lady of Shallot.” I was very surprised at the treatment of Heracles. I was always under the impression that Heracles was placed in Olympus after his death, but the narrator here places him among the dead, notwithstanding Odysseus’ clarification of what he saw: “his [i.e. Heracles'] ghost, I mean: the man himself delights in the grand feasts of the deathless gods on high.” I suspect these lines are a later addition meant to harmonize Homer with the received tradition of Heracles (which, notably, Euripides will go against in emphasizing Heracles as a human born of humans). Finally, I couldn’t help thinking that the scene in which all the dead heroes are recalled acts like a mini-repository of stories and lore, to be called upon when needed. Indeed, many of those characters, Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, Orestes, and the rest, will appear in the works of the three great Tragedians.