Everyone is always seething with red-hot rage. Everyone is always broken by overwhelming grief.
Everyone is obsessed with celebrity and status and public image. Everyone is terrified of being publicly shamed and cast out of society.
The common people never get a break, and when plague hits, they die.
Women's bodies are used by powerful men to increase and shore up their own power.
Public debates about policy for the good of all entail a great deal of grand-standing by a small number of wealthy individuals, in the service of their own egos.
Rumor runs through the people like wildfire.
There are enormous numbers of extremely deadly and expensive weapons in common circulation. Young men regularly use these weapons to slaughter large numbers of people in a short space of time.
Parents grieve for their dead children, who will never come home again. All you can hope for is a short time to grieve, before the next one.
The end times are coming and the world as we know it will soon be destroyed, although many of us like to pretend differently most of the time.
The Iliad is about a very distant world, very different from our own.
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A classic translator's dilemma, which presumably applies for any language pair: what to do about the fact that languages individuate the world differently. One language makes a distinction where another makes none.
One area where this often happens is family relationships. Many languages distinguish between different types of cousin (father's side/ mother's side) or different types of in-law (a sister's husband, versus a wife's brother). Others, like English, don't.
Often, these distinctions matter, in the context of the original culture or text -- but there is no way to convey both register or degree of marked-ness ("this is the normal term") as well as referent ("husband's brother's wife" is generally not idiomatic English).
A long geeky aporetic thread about a current translation dilemma that I have not solved, though I am having a lot of fun spending many hours obsessing about it. Sharing to give a sense of the kind of problems all literary translators experience.
In the Iliad, an eagle flies past the Trojans, dropping the snake he carried -- & so gets home empty-beaked and wounded. Polydamas says, plausibly, this sign means the Trojans should pull back from attacking the Greek wall: casualties will be too high, and gains few.
Hector, who believes (for good reason -- gods are sneaky) that he has been promised success by Zeus, rejects this advice, accuses Polydamas of cowardice, and declares a better kind of guide than regular bird-interpretation...And here we get our lovely justly famous line:
Most readers seem to get upset about the poor old dog, and not so much about the human suffering (slavery) evoked in the same passage. Here's a thread I wrote a while ago about this bit of the poem, & translation thereof.
Niche interest, because people ask me about process sometimes: I’m using an old notebook and it has a few pages of early drafts for the Odyssey. Here is a single line from book 6. I didn’t use any of these in the end.
One of the things I struggled with in this line, as you can see, is what to do with "pompe". It's a very important word in the Odyssey, a noun cognate with the verb "pempo", "to send". It suggests providing a traveler with a good "sending", aid to continue in the onward journey
Sendings matter in this poem. Calypso gives a wonderfully begrudging one: she makes her guest build his own transport. Circe gives a great one: detailed instructions, plus helpful wind. The wind-god Aeolus gives two sendings, one nice, one not so nice.
If you are, for any reason, in the mood for a long poem about the abuse of power, I'd like to recommend Ovid's Metamorphoses.
I spent the last month rereading the Met. and writing an introduction for a Norton reissue of the Charles Martin translation, which I like. I want to give a shout out for how great Ovid is, before I move back to the Iliad next week.
I love that the Metamorphoses is so obviously written for smart people, who will snicker if a story is dumb or told in a predictable way. I love that it totally works as an intro to Greek myth, but it's in no way boring if you know 100% of the stories already.