I am pretty sure this was supposed to have been read along my academic career and I likely snagged the Cliffs Notes version and watched a movie to pass the test. I have never read it.
I moved all of my 'classics' to the hall bathroom, where the tub is, and now that winter is here, chances are more of these will pop up.
I read the W.H.D. Rouse translation from 1937.
It is one of the more plain-spoken versions, which made it seem like it would be easier to get through, despite my love of Shakespeare and Jane Austen who are both rather flowery in their own way.
It took me something like two months to read the whole thing through, I got hung up on names and places and had a hard time sorting them simply because I am HORRIBLE with names, even those of the children I birthed and named myself. Long names that I can't associate with anything are even worse. At least I just call my kids each others names, sometimes the names of the pets...occasionally my husband's name...
What I learned from the story very early on is-don't tell the truth (about your name) and then nearly immediately, tell the truth (about the content of the bag of winds). If O had just been a little more humble, he would have been home way sooner. And I think that's where he ends up, learning to be humble and then-as a rag covered beggar-he is finally allowed to return home.
But, as with all my reviews, it's just my opinion.
I won't go into great detail about the storyline, as it's surely been done elsewhere and better, but I do have a few things I wanted to talk about.
The name Odysseus means 'trouble'. Which is interesting to me because an odyssey is a long journey, and the word is taken from the name Odysseus. It makes me think that while now, my name means 'star' one day, it might mean 'dire warning'. Or...'hide the cookies'. I haven't really made my mark on the world yet. Not sure that I want to, I'm pretty content being who I am over here without any sort of fanfare.
I thought it was interesting as well that hosts had to give all sorts of gifts to their visitors. I can't even reliably remember to offer a drink, which is why people who visit regularly just go to the fridge themselves. I am glad this is no longer the custom and I wonder where it all went. Are there still whole sets of visitor gifts or did they get split up and melted down? I love to think of that scene from The Count of Monte Cristo in the sea caves. It's all piled up somewhere.
Also of interest was that O asked after his wife every chance he got-particularly if she was still faithful. Also O 'tearfully shared love' 'for the last time' with more than one woman on the 20 year route.
His wife managed to sob...for 20 years. And remain beautiful, which is impressive.
The suitors at his house ate the best of every type of food in stock. For years. I could likely feed a pack of 6 suitors spaghetti for one evening. This might explain a few things, actually.
I have looked at olive trees...the bed still confuses me.
In all, I am glad to have read it, though I can't say how much actually sank in. I wonder if it's the lack of any type of police procedural-the only thing I seem to read anymore-or if it's my total lack of culture that made it so difficult. I am now reading Moby Dick and am finding it to be much more accessible. So, we'll see where that goes. Maybe I can train my brain.
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