Showing posts with label iliad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label iliad. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 07, 2020

The Iliad seen by Tischbein



Greek heroes from the Iliad by Tischbein, from left to right 
-Menelaus, Paris, Diomedes, Odysseus, Nestor, Achilles and Agamemnon.

Saturday, November 28, 2015

A translator's thoughts on making a new Iliad

Arline shared this interview with Caroline Alexander, whose new translation of the Iliad recently was released to high expectations, including her own:
“I know this sounds arrogant,” Ms. Alexander said, but she couldn’t imagine taking on the project “unless you believed you could do a better job.” She spent five years on her translation. Her goal is for her version to become the “translation of record.”
Alexander's discussion of her decisions in this translation are worth reading. Some have to do with diction (lexis):
I worked hard for restraint, and my mantra was “trust Homer, trust Homer.” I knew that if I could find the simple English word for his simple Greek, work for cadence—spoken cadence, not the cadence of “high” poetry—it would work.
Asked about a recent Hollywood treatment featuring Brad Pitt, she moves to another level of the work of the translator -- this not so much on the lexical level as on the level of thought (logos):
I didn’t watch the whole film. But I did see his first big kill in the opening 10 minutes. A stunning bit of stunt-work, very athletic and adroit, and totally un-Achillean. It implied that Achilles’ greatness as a warrior lay in his skill. Having just finished working on a documentary about tigers, I would venture that confronting Achilles would be more like coming face-to-face with a tiger than with a tricky swordsman.
This too is reading -- translating lived experience and that of the poem into a new vernacular of living images.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

The textual intimacy of Penelope

Ovid begins his book of love letters with Penelope, writing to her husband whose fate is unknown. As she explains, she heard much of the tale of Troy from her son, Telemachus, who got it from Nestor. She got some information from Menalaos as well. Ovid, then, is grounding his poem in Homer -- the news of the war that is the Iliad, and fragments of the fate of Ulysses after Troy fell, which set the scene in the early books of the Odyssey.

So Penelope's letter is full of references to the two epics, and we could do worse than refresh our memory of some of the key characters and scenes that she mentions, as here:
And he told of Rhesus and Dolon dead by your sword,
so that one was betrayed by sleep, the other by guile.
It was brave, oh you, who are more and more forgetful of your own,
to enter the Thracian camp, with night’s deception,
and kill so many men, with the help of one!
Then you were truly cautious, and thinking first of me!
My heart shook all the time, with fear, while my dear hero
was depicted, riding through the army on Ismarus’s horses.
Dolon
The tale of Rhesus and Dolon (known as the Doloneia) takes place in book 10 of the Iliad, and concerns a night raid that Diomedes and Odysseus carry out. They capture and interrogate Dolon, a  Trojan spy (dressed as a wolf), then use his information to kill Rhesus, a rich king newly arrived to the war. It's a terrific episode of guile, Odyssean quick wittedness, and double-dealing. Apart from its value in the epic, we might think about why Penelope includes it in her letter.

Penelope also mentions minor characters, like Tlepolemos, a son of Herakles who dies at the hands of Sarpedon, and Antilochus, the youngest son of Nestor, whose best known feat, dying to save his father's life, isn't in the Iliad, but is remembered in Pindar's 6th Pythian:
Long ago, too, powerful Antilochus showed that he had this way of thinking; [30] he died for his father's sake, by awaiting the man-slaying commander of the Ethiopians, Memnon. For the horse kept Nestor's chariot from moving, since it had been wounded by Paris' arrows; and Memnon was aiming his strong spear. [35] The old man of Messene, his mind reeling, shouted to his son; the cry he hurled did not fall to the ground; his god-like son stayed on the spot and paid for his father's rescue with his own life, [40] and because he accomplished this tremendous deed he seemed to the younger men to be the greatest man of his time in excellence towards his parents.
It seems that Penelope was acquainted with the fates of characters even Homer doesn't include in his narrative!

Also, Penelope's letter is not celebrating the heroic life, as Pindar does in his Odes. If anything, as she weaves her web alone, far from the action, she speaks as the end term, the destination, of Ulysses. She is what was there before he left to help take Helen back, and she'll be there to hear the stories upon his return. But is she simply an auditor, waiting for the heroic song to arrive?

Thursday, June 19, 2014

The core of coeur-age

The first Olympian sets the scene for Pelops' address to Poseidon:


near to the gray sea, alone in the darkness, 
he called aloud on the deep-roaring god, 
skilled with the trident; and the god 
appeared to him, close at hand.

Pelops then says:



Since all must die, why should anyone nameless 
sit in the dark, foolishly stewing old age 
with no share in all that is good? As for me, on this contest 
I will take my stand.

Compare Sarpedon's speech that comes near the center of the Iliad (end of Book Twelve):

'Glaukos, why is it you and I are honored before others
with pride of place, the choice meats and the filled wine-cups
in Lykia, and all men look on us as if we were immortals,
and we are appointed a great piece of land by the banks of Xanthos,
good land, orchard and vineyard, and ploughland for the planting of wheat?
 
Therefore it is our duty in the forefront of the Lykians
to take our stand and bear our part of the blazing of battle,
so that a man of the close-armoured Lykians may say of us,
“Indeed these are no ignoble men who are lords of Lykia,
these kings of ours, who feed upon the fat sheep appointed
and drink the exquisite sweet wine, since indeed there is strength
of valour in them, since they fight in the forefront of the Lykians.”
 
'Man, supposing you and I, escaping this battle,
would be able to live on forever, ageless, immortal,
so neither would I myself go on fighting in the foremost
nor would I urge you into the fighting where men win glory.
But now, seeing that the spirits of death stand close about us
in their thousands, no man can turn aside nor escape them,
let us go on and win glory for ourselves, or yield it to others.'


Friday, September 30, 2011

Mitchell "does" Homer

Stephen Mitchell has a new treatment of the Iliad:

It's Not All Greek to Him

The 'rock star' of translators produces a daring new version of the epic poem; the 'B' word

In various versions of Homer's nearly 3,000-year-old epic poem "The Iliad," the Trojan warrior Hector is referred to as "glorious," "flashing helmeted," and "man-killing." But he's probably never been described as a "son of a bitch" before.

ARENA
Getty Images

Menelaus pursues Helen of Troy before the altar of Apollo as recounted in 'The Iliad,' in an engraving by Piringer after the original Grecian vase.

Stephen Mitchell's take on "The Iliad," the first major new translation in nearly 15 years, is an action-packed, slick and contemporary rendering of the Trojan war saga. Mr. Mitchell took some unusual liberties: He cut about 1,100 lines, modernized the dialogue and left out most of the fusty-seeming descriptors attached to each character (swift-footed Achilles, bright-eyed Athena, crafty Odysseus).

The text is peppered with modern slang. Helen refers to herself at one point as a "bitch" (the Greek original is "dog-eyed one"). Elsewhere, Hector yells a phrase at a soldier that could be literally translated as "Begone, cowardly puppet." Other translators have struggled with the insult, rendering it as "wicked doll," "rag doll" and "glittering little puppet." In Mr. Mitchell's translation, Hector yells, "Go ahead, sissy, run!" And when Achilles rails at Hector, he doesn't call him, "You doer of deeds not forgotten," as the original Greek reads. Instead, Mr. Mitchell has Achilles say, "Don't talk to me of agreements, you son of a bitch."

Mr. Mitchell defends his movie-style dialogue. "If you translate literally, the English may sound stilted or phony," says Mr. Mitchell. Asked if he thought his version would stir controversy, he laughed. "Of course," he said. "That's how scholars earn their living, by disputing things."

Mr. Mitchell, 68, may be the closest thing that the translation world has to a rock star. He brings oblique sayings in ancient languages to the masses, upsetting established scholars and occasionally creating unlikely hits. His 1988 version of the Tao Te Ching sold more than 900,000 copies in the U.S. Several of his other popular translations, which include The Gospel According to Jesus, Gilgamesh and poems by Rainer Maria Rilke, have each sold more than 100,000 copies.

Some of his translations aren't, strictly speaking, translations, but adaptations. He knows Greek, Latin, Hebrew, French, German, Italian and Danish, but he's also rewritten works in languages he doesn't know—Chinese, Sanskrit and Babylonian. His interpretations of sacred texts have been criticized by evangelical Christians and "very irate Taoists," says Mr. Mitchell.

There have been plenty of English translations of "The Iliad," including several published in the 20th century. Mr. Mitchell says he felt he could do better. "I've never been able to read 'The Iliad,' actually, until I sat down to do this," he says. "I could never get past book one in any translation. I found the language very dull."

Several years ago, he picked up the original Greek text and began translating the opening lines for fun. He was quickly immersed in the dramatic story. The epic opens 10 years into the war, which the Greeks waged after the Trojan prince Paris kidnapped Helen, the wife of the Greek king Menelaus.

Mr. Mitchell, who was born in Brooklyn and studied comparative literature at Yale, bounced some ideas off Homeric scholars, including Martin West, who wrote a book about how "The Iliad" was composed. Using Mr. West's research as a guideline, Mr. Mitchell cut about 7% of the poem—because he believes those passages were added by later poets. He dropped book 10, which describes a nighttime raid against the Trojans, entirely. He left out most of the stock character descriptions because he felt that while the phrases serve a rhythmic function in Greek, they add nothing in English.

His next project: "The Odyssey."


Monday, February 15, 2010

Recent interactions with Homer

From the Wall Street Journal (Hat tip to Jutta and Shaw)

Homer Revisited

The Iliad and the Odyssey newly told and reimagined.


The tradition of reworking Homer is older than Homer himself. His Iliad and Odyssey were the culmination of an oral-poetry form whose practitioners, using a toolkit of narrative patterns and metrically convenient phrases, tweaked and shuffled the stories in the course of retelling them. Many translators since Homer have also adjusted the tales. Now, taking the practice another step, two novels boldly rewrite stories from the Iliad and the Odyssey and reflect on the nature of storytelling along the way.

Zachary Mason's marvelous "The Lost Books of the Odyssey" purports to be a translation of a "pre-Ptolemaic papyrus" discovered in the Egyptian town of Oxyrhynchus, the real-life site of an ancient trash dump that has yielded many valuable papyri. Mr. Mason says in his preface that the papyrus contains "concise variations on Odysseus's story that omit stock epic formulae in favor of honing a single trope or image down to an extreme of clarity."

...

Where Mr. Mason's approach is kaleidoscopic, David Malouf's in "Ransom" is microscopic. Zooming in on a few dozen lines from the Iliad, he expands on a climactic scene during the siege of Troy: the meeting between Priam, King of Troy, and Achilles, the killer of Priam's favorite son, Hector.