Gilgamesh, Prologue and Book 1

Even mostly avoiding the sketchy bits, you had a good discussion of the opening of Gilgamesh. The point I wanted to make about Shamhat and Enkidu is how she civilizes the beastly Enkidu with her “love-arts.” He “could not longer run/like an animal, as he had before….he knew that his mind had somehow grown larger,/he knew things now that an animal can’t know” (79). In our culture, this power given to female sexuality makes us very uncomfortable, so I can understand your reluctance to discuss this scene, especially with me, but it is an important aspect of the epic that reveals a profound cultural difference between the ancient Sumerians who wrote the story and modern Americans who create stories in which female sexuality is seen as the source of evil and as emasculating. Consider the character of Grendel’s mother in the movie version of Beowulf.

When considering the passage quoted above, also consider the way that humans and animals are distinguished from one another. Though, as you pointed out, even the greatest of humans, Gilgamesh, has animal traits. A number of times, Gilgamesh is compared to a “wild bull,” which you noted is a violent animal with uncontrollable strength. As king, Gilgamesh is “a wild bull of a man,” suggesting his great power but also that his power is not always under control (71). Even those who care for the wild bull can get trampled, as Gilgamesh tramples his people, if they get too close.

Beowulf, the end

I must commend you for the comfortable pattern you have fallen into regarding class discussions. Though the beginning of class is usually chaotic, it is not unproductive, as we work through vocabulary words. (Look for the return of grammar in January, too). Though, given the trend in vocabulary quizzes, must wonder if we need to do something differently. At any rate, once you settle down and focus on the book, you focus on the book. I don’t know whether Beowulf requires more attention than The Odyssey or whether you are merely becoming more adept at literary analysis and discussion, but whatever the reason, I am pleased. Today was no exception.

The idea of cycles again rose to the fore today, which is not surprising because, as you mentioned, the poem ends with Beowulf’s funeral as it began with Shield Sheafson’s. Also, again a kingdom finds itself without adequate protection. As Hrothgar’s age and complacency seemed to inspire the violence of Grendel against the Danes, Beowulf’s death leaves Geatland open to attack from enemies that seem already massing on the borders. A Geat woman, “sang out in grief,/with hair bound up, she unburdened herself/of her worst fears, a wild litany/of nightmare and lament: her nation invaded,/enemies on the rampage, bodies in piles,/slavery and abasement” (3150-55). Though given time I could write more about this amazing passage, I merely want to reiterate that the cycle of peace ending violence and peace giving away to violence is repeated. The one difference is the violence here is entirely human.

Your most interesting debate today was whether as a king Beowulf became more corrupt or more mature. You noted that before the battle, his pledge to win the dragon’s gold “’by [his] courage’” makes no mention of God, which is a change from his boast about his fight with Grendel (2537). You also noted that he later says that he hopes that God will recognize that he “’stood by things in [his] keeping’” (2737). A number of you interpreted this focus on gold and things as signs of Beowulf’s corruption, symbolized by the snapping of his sword in his battle with the dragon. As Beowulf grew older, you argued, he became more concerned with the material world and forsook his God.

Others of you, however, argued that the “things” in Beowulf’s keeping referred not to material objects but responsibilities like the protection of his people. You noted that after being wounded, Beowulf gives praise to God: “’To the everlasting Lord of All,/to the King of Glory, I give thanks” (2794-5). You argued that Beowulf remained steadfast in his service to his God. However, you did not address the issue that God seems to forsake Beowulf in this battle. One way to reconcile the two sides of this debate is to see the corruption represented as not moral but physical. Beowulf is old. His body is corrupted by age and, like his sword, it snaps in battle.

Lastly, for those of you are interested, I made “Wiglaf” by Marisa de los Santos available in Moodle.

Beowulf (1887-2390)

I don’t have much time to reflect on another good discussion that began with the juxtaposition of the role of a queen to the role of the king. The queen “should weave peace” (1942). The king should spend his time “dispensing rings” (1970). Though you didn’t explicitly compare these two roles (perhaps the subject of a future conversation?) you did note the queen’s role as weaver associates her with the same distaff work Penelope did in The Odyssey. You spent more time considering the symbolism of rings. The dispensing activity symbolizes the king’s generosity. The acceptance of such a gift signals the vassal’s loyalty. Rings are also round, and are suitable symbols of the cyclical nature of power in the poem. As circles, rings symbolize eternal unity and permanence. One can never come to the end of a circle. I also liked your notice of the kenning “sky-plague,” which describes the dragon. He spreads havoc like a plague, consuming whole villages. His association with fire also connects him with evil out of hell. I wish you had spent more time following the nuances of this metaphor. Similarly, I wish you would have looked more carefully at the dragon’s lair and the circumstances that wake him up. I am out of time and so will hope to hear more on Monday.

Beowulf (836-1320)

Aside from the explosive digression into religion, you had another good conversation this morning. Much of the discussion centered on the conflict between paganism and Christianity in the poem. This continues the discussion from previous days, so I am not going to detail today’s class. I do wish to say, however, that you are very good at identifying and arguing for the thematic to various lines through out the poem.

I would like to see you go more deeply into the language, into the allusion, and into characterization, though. For example, Hrunting, Unferth’s sword reveals some interesting things about him. You made the interesting observation that Unferth’s human made sword was ineffective against Grendel’s mother, and that it took a giant made sword to kill her. That the sword from pre-Christian times succeeds where the sword from the Christian era fails suggests something interesting. Looking at the details about the swords might have revealed something more about the monsters and about Unferth. Indeed, my observation that the sword was fashioned by semi-divine creatures called Nephilim, who were a source of evil in the world, was an attempt (disastrous) to model how you can pursue the nuances of allusions.

I appreciated your recognition of how powerful the poet’s description of the death of one of the monsters in the mere: “a strange lake-birth, a loathsome catch” (1440). I would have liked you to take on the kenning, “lake-birth” used in the context of describing a death. The poetry is truly elegant here. Don’t forget to look at kennings and other figures of speech.

You engaged in some of this analysis today. For instance, you noted how “the water burns” upon the lake, representing the unnatural evil residing therein, but you did not go on to explain how the fire represents evil. Also, Natalie made a good connection to one of the themes in the move, making me glad that I took you to see it, noting that the evil monsters are “fatherless creatures,” suggesting that as did the moviemakers, the poet roots the evil in the world in something female, or at least not male. You did well to see that fatherless may mean literally born to and raised only by a mother, but also without relationship to a fatherly god.

Also, kudos for the connection between Hrothgar and Grendel through the word “harrow” and for noticing that the slaying of Grendel is described from Beowulf’s point-of-view, while the fight with Grendel’s mother was from her point-of-view.

Beowulf (836-1320)

Though saying Beowulf is Jesus may be a bit farfetched, the ascendancy of Christianity is clear in Beowulf’s victory over Grendel as your analysis of last night’s reading shows. The poet credits the Christian God with making Beowulf victorious. Beowulf defeats Grendel “with the Lord’s assistance” (939). The “wondrous gifts” showered upon Beowulf give the strength by which “he overcame the foe” (1271). Clearly, God is given credit for this victory over a descendent of Cain’s clan.

Interestingly, you connected Grendel to Unferth through Cain. Grendel descends from Cain, whom God doomed to wander the earth marked as an outcast for killing his brother Abel. Unferth, who is “sick with envy” of Beowulf, also killed his brother (503). I’m intrigued by the connection you drew between Unferth, Cain, and Grendel. Cain and Grendel, whom you see as representative of pagan evil, are outcasts. Unferth, however, has not been cast out of his community for killing his kin. You suggested that by not exiling Unferth, who is connected to the worst of pagan acts, Hrothgar allows paganism to remain in his court. I’m not sure how much I agree with the point, but I am intrigued and will have to think further on it.

Some points of clarification: Wealhtheow pledges her faith in Hrothulf when she tells Hrothgar, “He will not let you down…and will use the young ones well” (1181-2). She is worried about Hrothgar’s adoption of Beowulf as a son. She worries that Beowulf will claim the throne from her sons should Hrothgar die before they are old enough to defend themselves, and she gets Beowulf to swear to leaving Heorot. Also, after Beowulf’s victory over Grendel, the scop, or bard, sings of two legendary figures, Sigemund and Heremod. Sigemund is meant as a flattering analog to Beowulf. Heremod is meant as a contrast and as a warning of how power can corrupt.

As I look back at my notes from today’s discussion and examine the line numbers you cited, I find that they come from the beginning of the poem to the section you read last night. The connections you made across so many lines of poetry are truly impressive. Well done!

Beowulf (320-835)

Life has been busy, so I have not had a chance to reflect on last Friday’s discussion about Beowulf in the blog until now. I feel especially bad about this delay because the conversation on Friday was interesting and extensive. I can only hope that my notes can help me recall sufficiently what you said. In general, you noted three main themes: the conflict between paganism and Christianity, Grendel’s violence, and the role of fate.

You noted that Grendel descends from Cain and that the pagan gods of the Shield Danes are ineffective in eradicating his evil. In contrast, the poet argues, “but God can easily/halt these raids and harrowing attacks” (478-9). You noted that the poet places faith in God’s superiority over the pagan gods because God can end the attacks. The instrument of God is Beowulf, described as “prince of goodness” (677). Beowulf also pledges to fight Grendel without a weapon, trusting that “the Divine Lord/in his wisdom” will “grant glory of victory/to which ever side He sees fit” (687-9). Beowulf’s faith in God places him in opposition to Grendel’s evil.

As Grendel approaches Heorot, the poet describes him as “spurned and joyless” (720). Because of the mark of Cain, Grendel is ostracized from human society. When he hears the celebrations at Heorot, he grows angry. The poet tells us that Grendel’s “glee was demonic, picturing the mayhem” (730). Indeed it is devilish to find glee or enjoyment in the violence of killing and devouring men. However, even more chilling is that Grendel has not yet reached Heorot. He imagines the pain and suffering that he will shortly cause, making the violence premeditated and decidedly human.

Grendel does not imagine the fate that awaits him, thought he poet does, and he gives god power over that fate and has Beowulf accept the fate. He tells that “the Lord was weaving/a victory” for Beowulf (696-7). As the threads of fate are spun and cut by the gods in Greek mythology, God determines the fate of Beowulf and Grendel. Furthermore, like Christ at the Last Supper, Beowulf “accepted the cup” of his fate (626).

You also made much of Beowulf’s boastfulness. You seemed to dislike Beowulf for talking so big. However, the poet tells us that Beowulf issues a “formal boast” (639). When something is formal, like the dance this Saturday, it follows established conventions and rules. The Danes expect Beowulf to boast of what he will do. If he did not, he would have broken protocol, sinned against the social conventions, like showing up to a formal dance in a tattered jean skirt.

Beowulf (1-319)

Your first discussion of Beowulf started off very well. You totally lost focus by the end of class, though. In future discussions, try better to stay on task. I know the snow today was a bit of a distraction, but to understand Beowulf to the fullest extent possible, you must pay attention to the text the way you did in the first part of the class.

You immediately noted the complicated relationship between paganism and Christianity in the poem. You noted that according to the poet, “the Head of Heavens…was unknown to” the shield Danes (182-3). Head of Heavens obviously refers to the Christian God, though you did not analyze the interesting epithet. You did note, however, that the Danes do not have a relationship with this god. Indeed, when Grendel attacks, the Danes, “Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed/offering idols” (176-7). The poet goes on to make clear, however, the “heathenish hope” the Danes derive from these pagan practices remains unfulfilled (179). He even argues that the idol worshipers are “cursed,” while those who have a relationship with the Christian god are “blessed” (183, 186).

Enter, Beowulf, who, along with his Geat companions, “thanked God” when he arrives safely from his journey (227). You shrewdly noted that Christianity is associated with the force of change and good in the epic, while paganism is part of an ineffectual past.

One way you reached this conclusion was to not Grendel’s origin as one of “Cain’s clan” (106). You did not go nearly far enough into this allusion to understand the full significance of Grendel’s parentage. Cain commits the first murder, according to Genesis. He angrily kills his brother, Abel, because he envies God’s blessing of Abel’s work. God punishes Cain by banishing him to wander the earth, “marked” as a murderer. More remains to be said. The ambitious among you with a little bit of extra time will read Chapter 4 of Genesis.

You also noted that “Grendel waged his lonely war” against Hrothgar, but really did not delve into the passage, nor did you look very carefully for the motivation of Grendel’s violence. It is at once horrifying and heartbreaking.

Book 23

In between chaotic moments of digression and simultaneous talking (at least one started by yours truly, mea culpa), you had a really good discussion today. The moments of misrule were short lived, thankfully, and I did not have to work terribly hard to get you back on track. Today’s discussion, of course, focused on the bed and Odysseus and Penelope’s reunion. The reunion cannot be complete, however, until Penelope recognizes Odysseus for who he is.

You began the conversation with the observation that Homer describes how “Penelope felt her knees go slack, her heart surrender” (23.231), and how Penelope tells her husband, “’You’ve conquered my heart’” (23.258). You noted that the words “surrender” and “conquer” connote how protected Penelope keeps her heart, as if it were locked inside a fortress. She surrenders to the “raider of cities,” who conquers her heart. Penelope’s ultimate test of this stranger claiming to be her husband centers on the bed Odysseus built his house around.

You connected the bed to Penelope through Odysseus’s question, “’Does the bed…still stand planted firm’” (23.227). You astutely argued that the bed stands for Penelope in this case, and that Odysseus really is asking her about her own loyalty. You connected this image of the rooted bed to the many instances in which Homer and his characters testify to Penelope’s steadfast loyalty. Like the bed cannot be moved by another man, Penelope is rooted and cannot be pried from her love of Odysseus. You also talked about how the bed is made from an olive tree (23.219), a symbol of peace and prosperity, and an emblem of Athena. Around this bed, growing organically from Ithacan soil, this rock solid relationship, Odysseus built his house.

One comment you did not pursue, which I thought you might have, was a critique of how Odysseus speaks about the bed: “Around it I built my bedroom” (23.215). The pronouns are singular. Though he refers to the actual work of construction, in which Penelope played no part, if the bed represents their solid relationship, why does he take all the credit? He built only the literal bed; the metaphorical bed would wither and die without her strength and loyalty.

Ultimately, there reunion is sweet, though, and Athena even “held back the night,” so that they had more time together, enough time to Odysseus to tell his tale and for them to enjoy “delight in sleep” (23.353). Homer compares the joy Odysseus feels to the joy a shipwrecked sailor feels upon making landfall. Penelope here, once again, is the rock solid land (we can talk later about the sexism involved in the woman being immobilized while the man freely travels the waves). You also noted that Homer’s syntax through the epic simile—the long series of clauses, rising and falling like waves, and taking a long time to come to rest at a period—echoes the experience of the shipwrecked sailor.

Book 22

Two themes were caught in the best moments of today’s discussions: hospitality and weaving. Odysseus’ opening shot hits the theme of hospitality as he hits his victim, Antinous, with a “stabbing arrow,” just as the suitor is “lifting a golden loving-cup to his hands” (22.8-9). The cup symbolizes Odysseus’s wealth that Antinous has been exploiting by drinking his wine and eating his livestock. The symbolism of Antinous’ death is underscored by how the suitor dies: “food showered across the floor,/the bread and meats soaked in a swirl of bloody filth” (22.19-20). The filth comes from Antinous’ blood mixing with the dirt floor. This mixture of dirt, blood, bread, and meat symbolizes the way Antinous spent his life over the past few years, sacrificing it to his illegal and immoral pursuit of Penelope and his wasting of Odysseus’ wealth.

You also connected the epic simile describing Odysseus killing the suitors to the theme of weaving. Homer describes Odysseus as a fisherman trawling for fish, “great hauls of them down and out like fish that fishermen/drag from the churning gray surf in looped and coiling nets” (22.410-11). Nets are woven, like Odysseus’ plan, to catch their prey unaware as they swim in the sea. Likewise, Odysseus weaves a plan that catches the suitors off guard, “lusting for fresh salt sea” (22.412). In addition to the way the simile dovetails with the theme of weaving, you also noted the oxymoron of “fresh salt” water. It’s clean, perhaps, but briny, seasoned. You even connected the suitors’ lust for the salt sea to their lust for Penelope. In Book 11, Agamemnon describes Penelope as “much too steady, her feelings run too deep” (11.504). Though in class, when we couldn’t find the reference, you argued that Penelope was the salt sea. However, Agamemnon compares her to a sailing vessel that gains its stability in the sea from its depth. The association still works, just in a different way.

Book 20

The class needs a reminder that discussions are not competitions. If someone beats you to a passage, your role is to engage with and build on their ideas, not to scurry to find a competing passage or to denigrate the contribution of others. If the discussion does not leave time to consider your favorite passage, don’t try and squeeze your ideas into a discussion on another point. Instead, work with the ideas under consideration. Discussions should be exercises in collaboration in which you all help each other to a deeper understanding of the text.

In spite of the competition today, you continued to make connections to ongoing themes as you did yesterday with weaving. Today, you looked at sleep and Telemachus’ maturation. Everyone from Athena to the young man himself seems to recognize that Telemachus has grown up. He even tells the suitors, “the boy you knew is gone” (20.347). Clearly, the suitors do not yet know the man who replaced him, but they will.

Your discussion of sleep was especially interesting because you connected Odysseus’ resistance to sleep to his past troubles with sleep, his seeming distrust of Athena, and his connection to Penelope. Athena tells Odysseus, “so surrender to sleep at last” (20.56). Sleep here is pictured as an enemy of Odysseus, something he must surrender to. Odysseus certainly has treated sleep like an enemy in the past as he fought going to sleep in order to sail single-handedly back to Ithaca from the island of the wind god (10.32-2). Sleep defeated him then as it did on Helios’ island as well.

Interestingly, Odysseus doesn’t trust Athena to take care of him, as shown in her challenge to him, “’Why still awake?’” (20.37). He is awake because he wants to be on watch, not trusting Athena to keep him safe.

Your conversation was far more interesting than I have time to represent here, so feel free to add your own comments, and stop competing in class!

Book 19

Though you did a good job with the epic simile you examined, I was most impressed with the discussion of dreams that “are hard to unravel” (19.631). The verb “unravel” triggered the association with the theme of weaving. Dreams, which come from the gods, are intricately woven; their patterns create beautiful pictures, like the geese of which Penelope says, “’I love to watch them all’” (19.604). However, the individual threads of meaning are hard to separate. Penelope remarks, “Two gates there are for our evanescent dreams,/one is made of ivory, the other made of horn” (19.632-3). The ivory door leads to confusion and the horn gate leads to truth. You could have paid more attention to this remarkable passage, but you at least noted that the difficulty with dreams is figuring out what is mere diversion and what is truth.

Also, Penelope has spent two decades weaving a dream of Odysseus’s return, and she’s having a hard time unraveling it.

Currently, Odysseus and Penelope are weaving plans of their own, plans that they hope will be difficult for their foes to unravel. You underscored this connection between the two by noting that Homer describes Penelope with the epithets “wise” and “seasoned,” which he also uses to describe Odysseus.

Lastly, I want to reiterate my question of whether or not Penelope suspects she is talking to Odysseus when she orders Eurycleia to “come and wash your master’s…” (19.407). I want to Penelope to recognize Odysseus. If she doesn’t, she remains the overly emotional and passive woman who doesn’t earn the epithet, “wise.” If she does recognize Odysseus, then her choice of contest—one she knows that only he can win—shows that she wants to set the stage for his return. She wisely keeps quiet because otherwise Odysseus might become suspicious about how easily she might believe every stranger claiming to be Odysseus.

Book 18

Classes like today’s support my belief that taking our time through The Odyssey leads to a deeper understanding of the book. Not only do we get to share a sense of endless journey with Odysseus J, we get to consider passages in greater detail and with greater deliberation. Your insights into the complexity of Odysseus’ identity exemplify the benefits of such an approach.

You noted that after disposing of Irus, Odysseus tells him, “’no more playing the beggar-king for your, you loathsome fool’” (18.123). From Irus’ perspective, Odysseus disguised as beggar has supplanted him as the king of the beggars in Ithaca. You noted, however, how Odysseus’ choice of words perfectly captures who he is at this point in the novel. He is the king but disguised as a beggar. Furthermore, without the recognition of his regal identity, Odysseus is literally reduced to the level of a beggar. He begs sustenance from Eumaeus and he begged clothes and riches from the Phaeacians.

You also did a great job connecting this dual identity to the epithet Homer uses for Odysseus a few lines later when he calls him, “the one who knew the world” (18.144). Interestingly, you didn’t even bother to note the literal truth to this epithet. Odysseus ahs traveled the extent of the Greek world. Instead, you focused on the figurative meaning. Odysseus knows what it is like to be a king and what is like to be a beggar. He knows the world in the sense that he knows the extremes of human existence (at least for men).

By noticing Homer’s brief biography of Odysseus told in epithets—Laertes’ son, raider of cities, master of exploits—you also noted how Odysseus’ identity is complex and multi-faceted.

One idea I would have liked to have heard more about is Athena’s desire to make “anguish cut” into Odysseus (18.393). You connected this line to Athena telling Odysseus to test the suitors in book 17, but you didn’t ask why such testing is important to Athena. You did, however, question why Athena would make Odysseus look so strong when fighting Irus when Odysseus wants to remain anonymous. You didn’t really come to any conclusions, and I’m not sure there is one definitive reason, but I think it has to do with the tightrope Odysseus is walking. He wants to remain hidden, but he also wants the suitors to be on edge, to be off kilter.

Book 17, end

Today’s conversation centered on the states of mind of Odysseus, Penelope, and Antinous. Odysseus appears in control, while Penelope and Antinous seem to be losing their grips.

Still disguised as a beggar, Odysseus receives a blow from Antinous. Contrary to his character so far, Odysseus does not react with passion. Instead, he remained, “silent, his mind churning with thoughts of bloody work” (17.513). As you noted, Odysseus normally gives in to his impulse so his silence here suggests that he has already begun the work of removing the suitors. That work, which expects to be bloody, requires him to toil. The violent image of churning also supports his gory mission. His thought don’t merely mull, they churn, like a machine in which many moving cogs and wheels intermesh or like boiling water in an overflowing pot.

While Odysseus remains calm in the face of abuse from suitors, Penelope loses some of her reserved. When Telemachus issues a “lusty sneeze,” Penelope is “seized with laughter” (17.604). The laughter counters Penelope’s usual reserve. That she is “seized” suggests that someone or something else controls her, like a seizure. Her laughter erupts out of her control. She then gives voice to her own bloody thoughts, hoping that among the suitors, “not a single man escape his sudden doom!” (17.609).

Antinous also loses control by throwing a stool at the beggar, Odysseus. He does so in the heat of the moment, but even his fellow suitors understand the risk he takes. They remind him, “gods do take on the look of strangers” (17.537). Though Odysseus is not a god, he has the backing of the gods, and he is not as he seems to Antinous. The main suitor would do well to heed the advice of his fellows, though even if he did, the gentlest treatment of Odysseus would not save him form his “sudden doom.”

Indeed, Homer underscores the coming trouble for the suitors by ending Book 17, “The day was over. Dusk was falling fast” (17.677). The day of constant partying at Odysseus’ expense, the day of celebration and hope for future power in Ithaca is over. Dusk, with its connotations of murky darkness concealing danger is “falling fast.”

Book 17 (1-360)

Your conversation today bounced around a bit, but included a number of good thoughts. It might be easier to make sense of your notes—and this blog—if you got more into the habit of thinking quietly for a few seconds about what someone has just said before moving on to the next idea. That way, you can exhaust a topic of conversation in a focused manner rather than having to circle back to it again and again. Today, though, some of your circling was productive. I will touch on just a few of those moments.

I was intrigued by how significant even small words can be. Class began noting that Odysseus, “told his swineherd” (emphasis added) (17.5). The question soon arose whether Odysseus considered Eumaeus “his” out of affection or ownership. Odysseus both cares for the swineherd and owns him because Eumaeus is his slave. In this case, “his” could refer to feelings of friendship or to the fact of ownership. That Homer identifies Eumaeus by his occupation underscores his role as Odysseus’ slave, as the king’s property. Thus, the line becomes a poignant reminder of the unequal status of Odysseus and Eumaeus.

You also noted the metaphorical aspects of Odysseus’ request, “Just give me a stick to lean on,/…the road/is treacherous, full of slips and slides” (17.211-13). The figurative value of the treacherous road is easy to see. Odysseus, though back in Ithaca, faces a difficult journey back to his throne, one that must take him past 115 suitors who fill his great hall. They provide the slips and the turns. Your conversation about the symbolism of the stick was more creative. The stick symbolizes Odysseus need for support on his journey. You also saw the stick as representing the kind of help Odysseus can count on. A stick is common, uncrafted and unpolished as a staff might be. The polished supports for Odysseus’ kingdom should be the noble and rich lords who now court his wife. However, he can only count on support from the common Eumaeus.

One of the images you circled back to was of the dog, Argos, and how, old and forgotten, he corresponds to Odysseus disguised in rags. You also contrasted Argos’ reaction to Odysseus to the reaction of the dogs that have grown up without him. Lastly, I remind you to keep an eye on Melanthius, the goatherd.

Book 16

Shifting identities might be the theme of your discussion of Book 16 in which Odysseus reunites with Telemachus. Telemachus at times adopts and almost Odysseus-like persona. Odysseus literally changes in the course of Book 16 from beggar to godlike king back to beggar again, and Eumaeus ironically takes on the identity of Telemachus’ father.

In the opening lines, Homer uses an epic simile to describe Eumaeus greeting Telemachus. He describes the swineherd’s embrace of the younger man, “As a father” (16.19). The elaborate imagery that follows shows the depth of Eumaeus’ paternal attachment to his king’s son. Ironically, Odysseus, not at all looking like a man who could greet such a noble son, watches another play his role. Eventually, though, Homer tells us, “Odysseus rose,” metaphorically echoing his rise from beggar to king that is to come.

You noticed that in this book that describes the restoration of Odysseus’ identity as king, Homer refers to his hero with a new epithet, “great Odysseus” (16.210). With his return to Ithaca, Odysseus is no longer the unhappiest of all men, but “great Odysseus.” Outwardly, Odysseus remains—at least at the start of the book—outwardly the “long enduring” one (16.210). When he transforms into his glorified true self and when Telemachus refuses to believe his father has return, Odysseus tells his son, “’That man and I are one’” (233). As much as Odysseus is now the returned king, he also is the beggar. He remains cut off from power and dependent upon others, including his son.

Homer reinforces the story of the Telemachy, the story of Telemachus’ development, by describing the boy’s return as the return of a “rover home at last” (16.30). This identity mirrors Odysseus’, suggesting that Telemachus has grown into kingly young man. He roves like his father and returns home changed by his travels.

Book 15

Today’s conversation was a bit distracted, not one of your best. Nonetheless, you did seem to get what you needed from Book 15. The main point of the book, of course, is that Telemachus has grown up. Though at the beginning of the book Athena must still, “remind the hero’s princely son/of his journey home and spur him on his way” (15.2-3), by the end of the book, Telemachus “gave the men commands” (15.563). Given the sumptuous reception he receives in Sparta, his lethargy is understandable, though the use of the word “spur” suggests how violently Athena needed to prod the prince.

Athena also motivated her young charge by reminding him of his mother’s situation. She suggests that the motivations Penelope must feel as woman, “to build the wealth of her new groom,” etc., would predispose her to choose a new husband if Telemachus is not there to prevent her (15.23). Interestingly, you were more interested in disputing whether Penelope’s father and brothers wish to sell her like a slave than you were in challenging this view of women as naturally wanting to make the success of husbands and sons the focus of their lives. I suppose it is shocking to consider that Penelope, whom Athena calls Telemachus’ “irreproachable mother” is to be sold for a “bride-price” (15.18-21). However, equally sexist is the assumption that all women want so serve their husbands’ interest and bear them sons.

You also noted the portentous bird signs that foreshadow the death and destruction of the suitors at the hands of Odysseus and the strange party favors Telemachus receives from Menelaus and, especially, Helen. You did not, however, talk much about Theoclymenus, the fugitive prophet picked up by Telemachus.

Book 14

As has been your pattern of late, once you settled down you had a good conversation that included some good close reading. You bounced around Book 14 quite a bit, but I believe you understand the essentials Odysseus’ reunion with his swineherd. Eumaeus pines for Odysseus, loyally serves his master’s estate, and worries bout Telemachus. He even does his best to husband Odysseus’ livestock against the conspicuous consumption of the suitors. Your conversation also sustained a few more length inquiries.

You promoted some interesting theories as to why Homer directly addresses the swineherd lines like, “And you replied, Eumaeus, loyal swineherd.” You suggested that addition of such direct address gives the impression that Odysseus tells the story as he reminisces with Eumaeus. You suggested that lines foreshadow that Eumaeus will receive some great reward from Odysseus because Odysseus seems to address him as an equal. You also suggested that Homer intends for the reader to identify with Eumaeus and his loyalty to Odysseus.

You best close reading came with your examination of the first line of Book 14 and with your discussion of Eumaeus’ concern for Telemachus. Homer begins the book, “So up from this haven now Odysseus climbed a rugged path” (14.1). You focused initially on the ruggedness of the path, arguing that it suggested that Odysseus faces a difficulty journey. As paths usually provide passage between places, you offered the hope that Odysseus would find a haven on the other side of his journey. You also noted briefly that a haven is a protected place. As long as Odysseus stayed in the haven he was protected, but now on his path to a new haven, faces danger and difficulty.

Eumaeus’ news that “The gods reared Telemachus like a fine young tree” evoked some interesting thoughts (14.202). First of all, that the gods reared Telemachus underscores that Odysseus did not. You found that Eumaeus implied as much when he chose a young tree to which to compare Telemachus. Tries, once planted, receive no tending from their parents. They depend upon the gifts of nature—sunlight, water—to develop. You also noted that trees gain character from the land on which they grow. Telemachus, being a young tree, though, has not spread roots deeply and remains vulnerable to erosive wind and rain (the suitors). The shallowness of his roots and vulnerability of the young Telemachus may explain why Eumaeus believes Telemachus to have made a mistake to leave Ithaca at the hands of the suitors.

Book 13

You will be pleased to know that our visitors on Friday recognized the way you handled your discussion of Book 13 as the way they held discussions in graduate school. They even asked of you, “so were they seniors?” I too was pleased with your discussion, though, as always, I yearn for closer attention paid to certain passages.

You noticed the two big epic similes in the book and deftly identified what the similes compare. Though I was just joking about teaming with Ms. Virtue and Mr. Moriarty on trying to determine the speed of the Phaeacian cutter from the description in the simile, I do think you could have teased some more nuance out of the similes, in particular the comparison of Odysseus looking forward to the final leg of his journey home to the way a farmer feels after a long day in the field.

You did, however, say wonderfully interesting things about the teasing, almost romantic relationship Odysseus has with Athena. You picked up on the good natured tone the two take with each other. You also did a great job putting together Odysseus’ exhortation “Come, weave us a scheme…” (13.441) with Homer’s narration, “And now she appeared as a woman…skilled at weaving (13.325-6). You noted how the word “weave” unites Athena’s function as the goddess of war tactics and her identity as a woman. You named many was that weaving works as a metaphor for strategy. To weave, one must pull together many different strands of fabric, the way a tactician blends the talent and strength of his or forces with the circumstances of battle. To weave well, one needs training and experience. Imperfections in weaving are glaring and lead to the ruin of the whole garment. Weavers must know colors, as a general must know the individual strengths and weakness of fighters, to make a pleasing and complementary design, or a successful design of a battle. And then there was my personal favorite: threads in weaving go over and under as plans of a battle must at times be overt and at times covert.

Book 12

It’s getting late, so I will write a short blog today. My main purpose is to once again applaud you for the work you did in class to deepen your discussions. By your discussion of Odysseus’s confession, “Then I knew that some power was brewing trouble for us,” you revealed your ability to make deep and interesting connections. You may not be aware of it, but you focused for about 5 minutes on a single word: brewing. You noted that brewing is a process that takes time, so that Odysseus implies that the trouble will manifest in the future because of heat being applied now. You compared Odysseus’ line to the brewing of a storm. The violent weather may be a distant event but subtle atmospheric changes or storm clouds on a horizon portend future calamity. You also compared his line to something brewing on a stove top. At the beginning of the process, no change can be perceived by an observer. Whatever brews, does so slowly. Eventually, though, tiny bubbles caused by heat appear. The mixture left unattended, as Odysseus leaves his crew unattended when he falls asleep, will boil over. Lastly, you compared the line to the brewing of tea, with the clouding of the water barely imperceptible at first, but the water darkens and darkens over time until the liquid is too bitter to drink. All of these images add meaning and vivid texture to the foreboding Odysseus feels when agreeing to allow his crew to land on Helios’ island. More like today!

Book 11

What a difference a day makes. You need yesterday to stretch out your atrophied brain, and today you were as limber as ever. You spent some time talking about Odysseus’ conversation with Achilles in which each character claimed the other had a better existence. Odysseus argues that “there’s not a man in the world more blest than you” (11.548). He may be merely being polite, but he acknowledges the glory and esteem bestowed upon Achilles. Achilles, however, counters somewhat bitterly, “’No winning words about death to me, shining Odysseus!/By god, I’d rather slave on earth for another man” (11.555-6). Death, then, to Achilles is worse than being a slave, working for another person’s wealth. He would rather be “a dirt-poor farmer” than to be a king “over all the breathless dead” (11.557-8). Though you did well to notice the disagreement, I would like you to also look at the words. Look especially at evocative images like “dirt-poor” and “breathless dead.” They add so much to the poetry, but as of yet, you are not comfortable with such analysis.

You also spent some time looking at the implications of Agamemnon’s speech. His gruesome experience at the hands of wife and her lover (notice he doesn’t mention his lover or his sacrificial killing of their daughter, Iphigenia) leads him to argue that Clytemnestra “bathes in shame/not only herself but the whole breed of womankind” (490-1). You quickly understood the implications of this claim for Odysseus, who still seeks his way back to his wife. However, her too, you missed an opportunity to examine the connotations of words, like “bathes” and “breed.”

Indeed, though Agamemnon acknowledges Penelope’s loyalty, he counsels Odysseus to be suspicious of her. On the one hand he tells Odysseus, “Not that you…will be murdered by your wife,/She’s much too steady, her feelings run to deep” (11.503-4). On the other he recommends that when Odysseus arrives in Ithaca he do so “in secret,” adding “the time for trusting women’s gone forever!” (11.517-18). I like that you noticed this contradiction and immediately became curious about whether Odysseus will follow Agamemnon’s advice. However, you also missed a very subtle metaphor. Agamemnon compares Penelope to a deep body of water, one that has a steady current because of its depth and is unlikely to be altered in its course by trivial events.

Book 11, 1-377

Okay, I can appreciate that starting back at school after four days off can be a challenge. No doubt, you stayed up late and got up late many of the past few days so that getting up early for school this morning left you overly exhausted. This fatigue showed in your discussion this morning, which took more prompting from me than should be necessary. Each night’s reading is short enough to allow you time to reflect on at least one significant passage in discussion the next day. Push yourselves to read at least one passage very closely, noting not only plot implications, but the connotations of words chosen by Fagles to represent Homer’s Greek.

Without prompting today, you noted that the sexism of Homer’s society comes through in the way that Odysseus interacts with the souls of the women he encounters. Their glory, their reason for being noticed, and their importance all grow from their connections to fathers, lovers, sons. You also talked about the ritual of the ghosts drinking the blood of animal sacrifice. For example Odysseus describes how his “mother/approached and drank the dark, clouding blood” (11.174-5). Blood, you noted, gives substance to the wraiths. Blood connotes life. Its darkness and clouding, furthermore, connote its substance. It is not clear and ghostlike the spirits; it is associated with mortality; it is physical, tangible.

I had to prod you into discussing Tiresias’ prophecy, which provides huge clues for reading the rest of the epic. It foreshadows Odysseus’ trip to Thrinacia, the island of the sun god Helios, and suggests that even upon returning to Ithaca, Odysseus will remain in disfavor with Poseidon until Odysseus spreads Poseidon’s influence among people unconnected with the sea.

I also had to prod you to discuss Odysseus conversation with Anticleia, his mother. She lays the mother of all guilt trips on him and, more importantly, reveals that Penelope remains true to him.

Book 10.1-301

As I said in class, your discussion of Odysseus’ relationship with his crew was the best discussion you’ve had all semester because people on both sides of the debate supported their assertions with specific readings of the text. Some argued that Odysseus cared for his crew only in that they were instruments in his return to Ithaca. The opposition argued that Odysseus cared deeply enough for his crew to be willing to sacrifice his life (if not his pride) for them.

Interestingly, both sides cited Odysseus’ response to Eurylochus, who tries to keep Odysseus from attempting a rescue of his men from Circe. Odysseus tells his second in command, “’Necessity drives me on’” (10.301). That Odysseus identified necessity as his motivation led many to argue that he really didn’t care for his crew. He needed them for his own purposes and therefore must try and rescue them. Others noted that according to Eurylochus, who urges a quick exit from the island, they “could still escape” (10.297). Eurylochus’ statement reveals that the crewmembers trapped by Circe were not necessary for the operation of the ship.

Furthermore, Odysseus reports being “sick at heart for the dear companions” he lost (10.14). Only people one cares for are dear, and heartsickness or grief connotes an emotional attachment to his men. For some reason, though, no one contrasted Odysseus’ willingness to face danger to Eurylochus’ craven flight from Circe’s lair. In the end, I side with those that argue that Odysseus cares for his crew, though perhaps not as much as he should. Think of how his pride leads to misfortune for his crew.

Notice that second paragraph of this blog contains a mix of past and present tense verbs. Normally when writing about literature, one writes in the present tense. However, because the story told in Book 10 is in the past from the perspective of Odysseus, who at present is safe among the Phaeacians, I wrote about it using the past tense.

Book 8

I commend you for taking to heart my exhortation to root your comments in the text. The past two days have included numerous references to the text and better discussions. You are even beginning to pry open the text and make connections and illuminate connotations. Eventually, you will make many attempts at any particular passage before moving on to the next one.

One moment in Book 8 that captured your interest was the story of Hephaestus, Ares, Aphrodite sung by Demodocus, the harper. We learn that Poseidon offers to pay Ares’ fine if the smith sets the war god free. Though among the other gods, “laughter broke” (8.386), Poseidon finds nothing amusing in the embarrassing display in which two gods are caught in a net by a third who humiliates himself by so brazenly displaying his jealousy. I was intrigued by your insight that Poseidon seems set against Hephaestus as “the cripple wins by craft.” Odysseus, too, is crafty. Poseidon is straightforward in his anger. You could take this association even further by analyzing the word, craft.

You also noted that the Phaeacians all had names connected to the sea and sailing, and reflecting their primary identification as a people and the economic activity that sustains their country. The prophecy remembered by Alcinous as he promises to give Odysseus safe passage home seems far more poignant when one considers how deep the Phaeacians’ association with the sea runs.

You also noted a very good epic simile describing Odysseus as he wept at the harper’s song about Troy: “Great Odysseus melted into tears...” (8.595). Homer compares Odysseus to a woman who watches her husband die and then dragged at spear point into a life in bondage. You did a very good job revealing the main thrust of this comparison: that Odysseus remembers seeing so many comrades die before being held captive by Calypso. You could, however, find even more interesting meaning by looking at the words Homer, and Fagles the translator, chose. Odysseus “melted.” The woman is “dragged” off. “Bondage” has interesting connotations for a female captive. I could go on.

Keep up the good work, but also keep pushing yourselves to examine words and phrases in greater detail.

Book 7

Because I carted your discussion today, I didn’t take notes, so cannot give you a very accurate reflection of the ideas you discussed today. I can say, however, that I didn’t have enough time in class to fully go over my discussion map, so I want to reiterate and deepen some points. Most importantly, the discipline you showed today far surpassed that of the past few discussions. Perhaps the knowledge that I was keeping track of how you shared the table kept you mindful of your behavior, but what ever the reason, I hope you emulate it often.
Regarding what you discuss, remember to look deeply into the next. You already do a good job figuring out plot and character; now use discussions to focus on specific words and phrase and tease out the connotations that support or challenge your more general insights. You may have realized that this kind of focused analysis is what I want you to do in your essays, and the class discussions give you ample opportunity to practice.

Book 6

When focused on Book 6, your class discovered a number of interesting ideas. However, repeatedly through the class your good discussion disintegrated nearly hopelessly into chaos. Part of the problem may be the seating arrangements in the class. Certain pairs and trios seem to play off each other and encourage each other into distracting behavior and tangents. Because we sit in an oval, does not mean that I can’t assign seats. If you want to continue to sit near your friends, be more disciplined about your behavior in class. Be aware when you start to pull the class away from its purpose.

Also, let people finish their thoughts before sharing your own. Beginning your comments before someone has finished hers communicates the message that you don’t think the rest of what she has to say is worth listening. If waiting until someone else stops speaking means that another person gets to talk next, that’s okay. You will get your opportunities. If you have shared a lot during a discussion, take a pause between the completion of someone else’s thought and the beginning of your own. If someone else fills the silence, give way. If no one does, offer your insight. You are not sharing the table right now, with some of you dominating, others holding back, and many of you talking while your classmates speak, which is just plain rude and must stop. Tomorrow, I will chart your discussion. More on that tomorrow.

As far as the substance of Book 6 goes, you did well to notice Odysseus’ craftiness. The phrase, “Odysseus, torn now” perfectly captures his strategic dilemma: embrace the Nausicaa’s knees or flatter her first (6.154). You did not consider why embracing her knees might be a good strategy (perhaps you will when you discuss Book 7) and why it is the wrong choice here, but you did note the effectiveness of Odysseus’ flattery: “I have never laid eyes on anyone like you” (6.174). Nausicaa clearly begins imagining marriage to Odysseus and helps him because of it.

You also offered a good reading of the epic simile beginning on line 142. The simile shows Odysseus’ physical power in that he “stalked/as a mountain lion.” He is so driven by hunger, literally from lack of food, but also metaphorically for his home, that he is driven to approach the princess, the “best-defended homestead.”

Return to Book 4

The Discussion: We seem to have reached the inevitable point in the semester where you are no longer afraid of me and no longer overly worried about succeeding in 9^th grade. The collective sigh of relief manifests in the fun of following random thoughts, especially when they’re humorous or about attractive movie stars. On the one hand, I am thrilled that you’re feeling relaxed and safe enough in my class to have fun. On the other hand, indulging too much in the fun of random association, keeps you from making progress in your understanding of The Odyssey and in your development of critical reading and writing skills. Continue to have fun, please. However, also work on developing the discipline to stay focused in your discussion. Nearly every page in The Odyssey offers rich possibilities for insight, like the excellent reading of Menelaus’ response to Helen’s story.

In that reading, you focused on the connotations of specific words. These connotations revealed important discoveries about the relationship between Helen and Menelaus. Menelaus responds to Helen’s story by saying, “There was a tale” (4.298). You noticed that the word tale implies a fictional narrative. The choice of that word suggests that Menelaus does not believe his wife’s version of what happened. You then went on to reveal how Menelaus sets himself up as an expert when he says “I have studied” and recounts his broad experience of the world. He even goes as far as to imply that Helen is evil, attributing her motivation for her actions outside the Trojan horse to some “dark power” (4.308).

Similarly, you noted that Helen’s story seemed very egocentric (“I alone” (4.281)). You also noted the frosting over of the scene after the exchange of stories as Helen speaks “briskly” to her servants. Furthermore, you picked up that Telemachus picks up on the tension he is the one who “ventured” (4.327) the idea that it is time to end the part. He is “Clear-headed Telemachus,” after all, and he would not have to venture a suggestion if there was no danger; he could just offer it.

Granted, I’m something of an English teacher geek. I have a hard time seeing how anything could be more fun than revealing the kind of literary insight outlined above. However, if this fun is not a strong enough inducement for you to stay disciplined in your discussions, remember that I do grade each discussion that you have.

Book 5

Okay, so you put the wheels back on the bus except for when you made your teacher feel as if he had misled you into thinking that there was something called an epic smile when he had actually typed epic simile!

Calypso was the focus of your conversation today, though Odysseus is the hero of the story. Perhaps you focused on Calypso because she is the one caught in a dramatic conflict. Hermes, voicing his disdain for Calypso’s out of the way neighborhood, delivers Zeus’ message that she must let Odysseus go, though she wants to keep him. She even invites Odysseus “to be immortal” if he will stay with her (5.231).

However, though Odysseus admits to Calypso that Penelope “falls far short” of Calypso in beauty, he still wants to go home to her. He says, “”Nevertheless I long—I pine, all my days—/to travel home and see the dawn of my return” (5.242-3). Yet, that night Odysseus and Calypso “lost themselves in love” (5.251). To explain this seeming contradiction and Odysseus’ reluctance to stay with Calypso despite her beauty and offer of immortality, you suggested that his feelings for Calypso tended more toward lust, and that he loved Penelope. You offered Odysseus’ tears and longing as evidence of his love of Penelope (though I wonder whether he longs so much for Penelope as for Ithaca). However, you offered no such proof that Odysseus only lusted after Calypso except, an a very elegant bit of interpretation, that Calypso’s possession of Odysseus makes him unable to trust her enough to love her.

Odysseus, when told of the gods’ plan for him, greets Calypso with skepticism and doubt: “Surely you’re plotting/something else, goddess” (5.192-3). Clearly, Odysseus mistrusts the woman he’s been sleeping with for years now. He feels compelled to share her bed. You brilliantly suggested that Odysseus lack of trust may come from Calypso’s unwillingness to treat him as an equal. Even in her invitation to stay—“stay right here, preside in our home with me”—you found an unwillingness on her part to allow Odysseus any autonomy. Though she acknowledges the home would belong to both of them, she implies that she is the one currently presiding over the home and his ability to preside with her would be at her discretion.

I was surprised that you were less upset by the way Hermes treats Calypso, especially given her charge that the male gods get to sleep with any mortal woman they want, but don’t allow the female gods the same pleasure. You also spent little energy on the injustice of Odysseus sleeping with other women while Penelope is expected to remain steadfastly loyal.

Lastly, keep examining epic simile for their nuanced meanings and the way they promote Homer’s themes. Perhaps the blog would be a good place to make note of epic similes, not epic smiles?

Book 4

The wheels came off the bus a little bit today. Your discussion was scattered and difficult to follow, and as a result several of you began whispered conversations with the people sitting next to you. (Yes, I notice such things even when I don’t acknowledge them in class). Part of the problem stems from the length of Book 4. There’s a lot to talk about. with Telemachus being welcomed by Menelaus, Helen drugging their wine, Helen and Menelaus sniping at each other, and the story Proteus tells Menelaus. When faced with such riches, choose one aspect to begin with.

Though Book 5 is shorter, a good deal happens in it as well. You might decide to begin tomorrow by discussing Odysseus’ relationship with Calypso, or you might decide to focus on the gods. Which ever path you choose, make sure you refer to the text and challenge yourselves to read more deeply into the passages you quote before giving up and moving to the next topic.

Today, for example, someone quoted, “’I yearned/to sail back home again! I grieved too late for the madness/Aphrodite sent me, luring me there, far from my dear land’” (4.292-3). You noted that the speaker, Helen, voices contrition for her role in the war and then moved on. However, these lines contain much more than Helen’s regret. Notice she identifies her feeling as a yearning, an aching for something absent, suggesting that she feels bereft of something important in her life. She also experiences this emptiness as a loss because she grieves, as one grieves for the lost life of a loved one. Notice she refers to Sparta as “home” not Troy. Though she lived in Troy within the royal family, she reports feeling alienated from Paris and Deiphobus. Helen also calls her decision to run away with Paris, “madness” sent to her by Aphrodite. Here, she denies responsibility for her actions. Temporarily insane, Helen left Menelaus. She goes to great pains, even referring to her old self as a “whore” (4.163), to represent herself as a different person than the one who hurt Menelaus so many years ago. Clearly, from his response, Menelaus is not ready to forgive, though they have been back together for 10 years at this point.

One last note: On page 135 you will find an epic simile. Can anyone tell me what an epic simile is and what the one on page 135 does for Homer?

The Odyssey, Book 3

I don’t have a lot of time today, so I will make it quick. Your discussion was grand; I am very pleased with how well you listen to and build upon the comments of your classmates. The quality of your ideas is also quite good. Today the main focus staid on Athena and Telemachus and how she supports him and challenges him like a mother would a child. You noted that Telemachus remains hesitant in his adventure, that from his boat “he climbed out last” (3.14), but that Athena “mentors” him and pushes him to do the difficult tasks, like talking to the old war hero, Nestor. Homer relates, “the bright-eyed goddess urged the prince along” (3.15).

Much was made of Athena’s eyes. For the record, the brightness of Athena’s eyes may reveal her passion as well as her godliness, but the grayness of her eyes symbolize her and her wisdom. A common epithet for Athena is “gray-eyed goddess.” According to Merriam-Webster, an epithet is “a characterizing word or phrase accompanying or occurring in place of the name of a person or thing.”

The Odyssey, Book 2

Though yesterday was an impressive first attempt at discussing The Odyssey, today was even more stunning. You rose to my challenge of seeing ideas through. Even when you jumped from the beginning of Book 2 to the end, you did so in pursuit of a single idea. You proved yourself very adept at tracing a theme throughout the book. When I asked you to focus on specific words and phrases in support of your ideas, you added some nuance to your understanding of Telemachus journey toward maturity. As you become more adept at this method of discussion, I hope that you pay attention to the connotations of specific words as a matter of course. As good as the ideas presented during today’s discussion were, you should be most proud of the fact that everyone in the class spoke. This 100 percent participation rate means that all of you feel comfortable enough to speak, and that all of you are welcoming enough to make room for others to have their say. Keep up the good work.

It did not take you long to notice that Book 2 is about Telemachus beginning to grow up. From the opening lines in which Homer tells us he “sprang up from bed and dressed” (2.2), Telemachus makes attempts to gain control of his destiny as the son of his father should. The mastery embodied in the word “strode” (2.10) contrasts with Telemachus’ weakness the day before has he sat “Daydreaming…as he sat among the suitors” (1.138), and had his nurse tuck him in. Had we had time, you might also have noticed that the sword Telemachus dons at the beginning of Book 2 is “well-honed” (2.3), suggesting that Telemachus has sharpened his sword to be ready for action. He also straps on “rawhide sandals under his smooth feet” (2.4). The sandals symbolize Telemachus’ journey. They are rawhide and so durable and tough, suggesting his road will be difficult. That his feet are smooth tells us that he is not yet well traveled, that he has not taken many steps along his path. Such details can reveal a great deal. What other details did we not have time for you to share?

If you were to reflect on your ongoing development into young women, you would no doubt notice that your progress has not been linear. Though one moment you seem adult and mature enough to take command of your lives, in the next you may be a little girl again, petulantly bemoaning your circumstances. So too, Telemachus’ journey has its reversals. You noticed, for example, that he has difficulty commanding his crew without Athena’s inspiration. You also noted that after taking abuse from the suitors, he…. Tears are a complicated business, and you will see that they often had different meaning for men of Ancient Greece, but the action of throwing down his spear is quite childlike.

One detail I hope you notice is the name of the man whom Athena impersonates to help Telemachus.

The Odyssey, Book 1

How the Discussion Went: Book is long and offers much to talk about. For the most part, you did very well identifying important aspects of Book 1. You touched on the relationship Telemachus doesn’t have with his father, how Athena’s presence seems to have changed Telemachus, and the relationship between the humans and the gods in Ancient Greece. I think you could also have examined Penelope’s role in Book 1 and looked into the suitors a bit. You also gave up on teasing apart how Telemachus grows in Book 1, which is very important for the first four books of The Odyssey, which are known as The Telemachy.

You listened to each other well as well, though at times your rush to contribute lead to moments of confusion and chaos. Remember, it is all your collective responsibility to make sure that everyone speaks. If someone who has not said much is trying to get into the conversation, make room for her to speak. Also, rigorously and scrupulously refer to the text. When citing a passage, give page number and line number so your teacher and classmates may follow along. Speaking of your teacher, he will try to limit his involvement in the conversation to the role of facilitator and purveyor of background.

What You Said: You began by looking at how Telemachus reports his parentage. “Mother has always told me I’m [Odysseus’] son…” he tells Athena (1.249). You keenly noted that Telemachus confesses his lack of relationship with his father. He does not know his father. You also noted the implications of this lack of knowledge: Telemachus does not know what it means to be a man in his society and consequently weakly allows the suitors to take advantage of him. You impressively noticed that Homer connects Telemachus standing up to the suitors to him growing up. Athena tells him “You must not cling to boyhood” (340). Suddenly, Telemachus tells off the suitors and takes steps toward throwing off his boyhood.

Natalie also noted the not so nice connotations of Telemachus’ crack about his parentage, but the class did not give the insight its appropriate due. Women give birth, making their relationship to a child indisputable. Prior to DNA testing there was no way of a man being absolutely certain that he is the father of his children (one of the reasons female sexuality has been so rigorously policed over the centuries). Telemachus here suggests that someone other that Odysseus may have impregnated Penelope. Telemachus also must depend upon his mother to tell him how much he resembles Odysseus because he’s never seen his father.

The conflict between human self-determination and fate will resurface again and again in The Odyssey. As I have run out of time, I will address this conflict in a later blog. You can learn more about Agamemnon and his family at the Encyclopedia Mythica.

Medea

In general I was very pleased with your first attempt at discussion using the Harkness Method. You were particularly effective when you remembered to root your comments in specific passages from the play. Some of you had some difficulty breaking into the conversation. It helps to sit up at the table. Remember also that the group bears responsibility for the participation of everyone. You must keep all the participants in view and cede the table to those who have something to say but have not had the opportunity to speak. Somewhat predictably, the moments when yesterday’s discussion degenerated into wild and unstructured conversations were the moments when you gave up on finding specific passages in the text and when a few of you got locked into a debate that excluded others. Fortunately, these things did not happen often, and you succeeded in holding a very good first discussion.

The most interesting ideas debated yesterday dealt with the conflict between premeditation and passion in Medea’s character. On the one hand, Medea envisions a bleak future for her children in Corinth and concludes somewhat rationally that she must kill them. She tells herself “Forget that you love them, forget that you are their mother” (52). On the other hand, she tells Jason that she killed their children out of spite: “To break your heart” (58). She also argues that “passion is stronger than reason” though it is also “the grief of the world” (47). As a schemer and a sorceress, Medea plots to take revenge against those who hurt her and allows her passionate hate to overwhelm her love for her children. Unmentioned yesterday is the way the Euripides connects Medea’s unnatural passion to her eastern, non-Greek, roots.

You also briefly considered Creon’s actions in the play, and I think you could have looked more deeply into his conundrum. He tells Medea that he banishes her because “I am afraid you will harm my daughter” (20). He also says “I will strike first. In self-defense” (sound familiar?) (20). Yet he also goes against his better judgment and gives Medea a 24 hour reprieve.