The Iliad of Homer - Part Two

In my last post, I shared details of reading The Iliad, and of being pleasantly surprised with its accessibility. In this post I want to add a footnote about an unusually compelling theme that was referenced in the afterword of my Rouse translation. I don’t count this as a spoiler because knowing about it will only enhance your reading experience. (BUT IF YOU DON’T ALREADY KNOW HOW THE STORY ENDS, READ NO FURTHER.)

For Homer, suffering is hinged to an unresolvable conflict between two inescapable elements of human nature: the ties that bind (family, friendship, community) and the blades that cut through those bindings (such as war). The war is shown against the backdrop of the people, homes and families of Troy. It is violence against domestic order.

To Homer, the city, the realm of family and connection, makes a stand against the chaos. In Troy, woven cloth becomes the medium for his story. When Helen first appears, she is in the hall of her house, weaving. In Book 3, she is working woven images into a tapestry showing the battles that have been fought over her. Helen, as she remembers the source of grief, becomes like Homer, the weaver of the tale.

[Outside the gates of Troy] where the battlefield is a careless and pitiless place, the allure and goodness of the besieged city become ever more precious. Achilles is determined to destroy the Trojans. They flee from his wrath back into the city – all except Hector, their champion, who must remain out on the plain with his adversary.

This is not just the meeting of Achilles and Hector; it is the deathly confrontation of two ways of understanding the world. The city is goodness and connection; the battlefield is horror and death. With Hector’s death, the city’s fabric is irreparably torn.

I have to confess that I missed that theme entirely! But like any classic, there will always be layers of meaning that surface with each subsequent reading.

I will close with just one quote comparing the two versions that I read. (Pope gets a bad rap for his translation, but I enjoyed his energetic eloquence.)

Few and short had his days been when Ajax laid him low, and he never paid to his parents the debt of a grateful son. (W.H.D. Rouse)

Lamented youth! In life’s first bloom he fell, sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell. (Alexander Pope)

P.S. Regarding translations, the majority of readers on the Lit Life Facebook page recommend Lattimore. Coincidentally, the Literary Life Podcast last week was about how to get started reading the ancient classics, which was very helpful for those of us who continue to pursue a life of self-education.

Blessings,