The Illiad. As the foundation of Western literature, it may have received the greatest amount of hype that it is possible to receive.
I had attempted to read it and The Odyssey when I was much younger, in middle school, maybe too young, and failed miserably. But as it is always with cultural touchstones, references to it are inescapable, and a few years ago, in my mid 50s I overcame the reluctance accumulated in the intervening time and set out to read the Samuel Butler prose translation of 1898. Most of the translations I'd previously approached were in verse, which is in some ways its own hill to climb when one is customarily a prose reader, so this seemed perfect.
And so it was, and I was bowled over. It was a mind bending experience for me the likes of which I experience much to infrequently as age and experience take their toll on the novelties of youth. I can't say the last work I read I experienced as electrically. For all the stiltedness of epic story telling, the personalities of Agamemnon, Achilles, Zeus, et al are both vivid and convincing; the violence of battle is horrible, electric, and wierdly beautiful in a way that will resonate recognizably with fans Sam Peckinpaugh or Hong Kong action movies. Though the characterizations are far more stereotyped, as befits the age in which it was produced, than modern readers are accustomed to, they still evince a polish that rises above conventional story telling into true literature. Worth every ounce of effort you expend to summit this one.
My 9th grade English teacher read the Iliad to us, explaining words and phrases as he went along. It was an incredible experience. He also read Romeo and Juliet in the same way. I considered it a great gift to allow us to experience the truly great literature at that age, in a way that I think most of us could understand and appreciate.
I think I would have liked this. I had a 6th grade teacher who read aloud to us daily, something more age appropriate, though, and this experience a remarkably large, and fond component of my recollection of those days. Unfortunately I was promoted right into an "innovative" program of "individualized learning" which ultimately crashed and burned in about 6 years, but consumed all of my middle school years. I didn't really encounter anything comparable again until high school
Very much looking forward to Emily Wilson's forthcoming translation. She translated the Odyssey a few years ago, still in verse but with less stilted language, definitely makes it more accessible. Looking forward to reading it to my children when they're just a couple years older.
Emily translated the first line of the Odissey as "Tell me about a complicated man". She almost went with "Tell me about a straying husband". Neither complicated nor straying husband appear in the original text. Pope's description (The man for wisdom’s various arts renown’d...) is closer to the epithets we are taught at school (ricco d'astuzie or dal multiforme ingegno). πολύτροπος means resourceful, of many skills, well-travelled.
πολύτροπος literally means "one of many ways" or even more literally "multi-turned". Translating it as "for wisdom's various arts renown'd" is just as much poetic license as "complicated".
That's the first line of the proem and complicated tells us nothing about the protagonist. Everyone can be complicated, but only Odysseus is πολύτροπον. It's a quality of character few people possess. I feel like Pope's line, despite the artistic license, kept that uniqueness.
I also found her Introduction and Translator's note very good. She acknowledges her goal was not the most direct word for word accuracy but from what I remember more the general feel to how things would have been interpreted by the audience at the time. After all, these were oral works enjoyed by not just "intellectuals" in ancient Greece. The idea of having a single best translation isn't really the right goal to seek and it really wasn't her aim.
From reading her notes (and her twitter account) I've definitely gained an appreciation of how much an art in itself translation is.
Agreed. I remember when I read it I was like "wait, so modern epic blockbusters are actually > 2,000 years old". It's not "almost" as good as modern stuff, it's better than most.
It's kinda like the Western equivalent of how many of the tropes that make anime anime come from kabuki and other traditional forms of Japanese theater.
Try reading about and watching (video of) kabuki. Typical plots involve the standard hot-blooded hero with a strong sense of justice exacting vengeance on a villainous rival. Kabuki actors deliver their lines in an over-the-top fashion, strike cool poses as they're introduced, and even undergo "transformation sequences" that make important revelations and up the stakes in the plot -- much like anime characters. (Transformations in kabuki are effected with rapid costume changes and traditional stage effects.) Like anime, kabuki is also recognizable by being highly stylized, with realism de-emphasized in favor of spectacle and looking cool.
Anime tends to share with Japanese theater a much more lingering emphasis on the atmosphere of the setting and the emotional states and thoughts of the characters compared to fast-paced, exposition-heavy Western media.
Of course there are plenty of exceptions, and some anime is even explicitly styled after Western media.
In the same vein, the Mahabharata. Literally mind blowing character building and arcs and all of this more than 2 millennia ago. It is also 10 times the length of the Iliad and the Odyssey combined.
It's pretty hard to get your hands on a hard copy because of how large it is (usually published in multiple volumes for academia). The most accessible translation is Ganguli's, which you can find here [1].
I also enjoyed the N.K. Narayan translation/explanation of the Ramayana. That and Malgudi days really made me feel like I understood Indian culture. The Ramayana is also super important for other Buddhist countries, like Thailand and Cambodia.
Try The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel. By Nikos Kazantzakis, a true bonafide genius of a writer whose imagery in exploring the life of Odysseus after her returns home and finds it less than fulfilling after 20 years if adventure & struggle, with a son he sees as week and I unprepared for the world... It's poetry is as dense as either if Homer's works, and while I hesitate to say it, perhaps almost as good.
My favorite part about the Illiad is that it's very possibly a super super gay love and revenge story. The greeks were debating about the relationship between Patrocles and Achilles since antiquity.
I had attempted to read it and The Odyssey when I was much younger, in middle school, maybe too young, and failed miserably. But as it is always with cultural touchstones, references to it are inescapable, and a few years ago, in my mid 50s I overcame the reluctance accumulated in the intervening time and set out to read the Samuel Butler prose translation of 1898. Most of the translations I'd previously approached were in verse, which is in some ways its own hill to climb when one is customarily a prose reader, so this seemed perfect.
And so it was, and I was bowled over. It was a mind bending experience for me the likes of which I experience much to infrequently as age and experience take their toll on the novelties of youth. I can't say the last work I read I experienced as electrically. For all the stiltedness of epic story telling, the personalities of Agamemnon, Achilles, Zeus, et al are both vivid and convincing; the violence of battle is horrible, electric, and wierdly beautiful in a way that will resonate recognizably with fans Sam Peckinpaugh or Hong Kong action movies. Though the characterizations are far more stereotyped, as befits the age in which it was produced, than modern readers are accustomed to, they still evince a polish that rises above conventional story telling into true literature. Worth every ounce of effort you expend to summit this one.