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.