The Iliad – One of the great works of human civilization, and one of its oldest, Homer’s epic poem tells the classic tale of the Trojan War – at least the end of it. This ten year siege captured the imagination of generations specifically through that much-discussed horse trick (you know the one, please tell me you do), but the Iliad’s more concerned with the people involved than any one specific event.
In that sense, this work revolves around the conflict between the great warrior Achilles and King Agamemnon. Achilles, blessed by the gods (if not the progeny of them) feels wronged by Agamemnon, who stole his “spoils” of a woman from the many battles he fought. Agamemnon had to give his up, of course, and he wasn’t going to go empty handed! So it is that this exchange provides us with a central conflict between two people on the same side! The Trojan War itself presents a backdrop for the conflicts of the gods, their favor to/against various people, and the machinations they perform to allow events to happen as they should. Fate (as per Achilles’ heel, which we all know just from colloquial language) remains a central theme, as Achilles’ desire for glory and booty turns out to spell his “end” (but not in the way you expect), and Agamemnon also receives his due…in a way, I suppose. No spoilers here, of course. The Iliad, among other things, fundamentally shows how a respectful ruler will conquer all even in defeat while a successful ruler without that respect will not receive the bounty of the heavens.
From a modern perspective, it is almost a window into a different world with different values and perspectives. Our society certainly isn’t into the idea of glory in battle, only seeing it as a necessary evil. Furthermore, the Greeks saw their enemies as fellow humans under the will of capricious gods, and this conflicts contain a central element of pathos. Although to win glory in battle remains paramount, they equally recognize the sorrowful nature of said conflicts. They bury their dead, they mourn the lost, and wars end on a bittersweet note. Contrast this to the propagandist nature of modern wars, with what I would call a “dehumanized view” of the enemy, and you can see that things look mighty different from the past. War is awful, yet wonderful; conflict shows the true strength of a man, yet also invites its own brand of pain.
The Iliad isn’t just worth reading for the language at play, or the themes, or just for fun – Homer created a typology for the rest of literature, even up to today. Many parts of the Bible obviously predate it (think around the 8th century BC as the general date for Homer’s writings), and so you receive yet another look into a similar time period from a different culture. I would not hesitate to say that this narrative, with the constant mention of Zeus and the other Olympians, holds no authority for me, but it did hold authority for Greek culture as a whole. What did they think, and why did they think it? How does it contrast with the Hebrew religion? Why do we still, now, read such an old piece of poetry? Good questions, all.
C.S. Lewis posits a particularly good set of reasons for reading the old, rather than the new (if referring to theology in specific, the points hold true):
Naturally, since I myself am a writer, I do not wish the ordinary reader to read no modern books. But if he must read only the new or only the old, I would advise him to read the old. And I would give him this advice precisely because he is an amateur and therefore much less protected than the expert against the dangers of an exclusive contemporary diet. A new book is still on its trial and the amateur is not in a position to judge it. It has to be tested against the great body of Christian thought down the ages, and all its hidden implications (often unsuspected by the author himself) have to be brought to light…Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books.
That’s why you read old books: to see the mistakes of the past, as well as its successes. Honestly, you can’t always trust the positions of experts on any one topic, but you can always read the source material itself. Dive right in; don’t settle for secondhand knowledge. There’s a reason why they call them “great works” written by great people – because they made complex ideas palatable, entertaining, or fascinating for anyone willing to understanding. You can tell how I feel about it!
There’s certainly many more themes and ideas to explain and identify, but we could go all day, and I’m still far from finished with the poem’s 16,000 lines. Thankfully, I am reading of many excellent English translations. When it comes to translations, there’s a huge variety of them, from Alexander Pope’s more lyrical and English work, as it does take liberties for the purpose of Pope’s own predilections, to the more literal style exemplified by Richmond Lattimore.
I am reading the Lattimore version, and it does a fantastic job, from my view, of translating Greek into something appropriately epic AND fitting into Homeric Greek hexameter. Yes, it does often involve strange sentence constructions, unfortunately! The use of multiple names for characters in particular means an unparalleled accuracy to the original text, if confusing for the general reader. Yet, a glossary’s provided in the back of my edition, and the Internet obviously can help if absolutely necessary.
Who said reading literature of antiquity should require no work? We use the same effort for the Bible, so why not this? Of course I recommend this!
