reading the iliad

[lobelia321]

I've just finished chapter 9 (Overtures to Achilles) so I'm a bit over 1/3 of the way through the Iliad.

Chapter 9 is moving. I found the Iliad a bit of a trial to get into. At first I was confused because you get flung in medias res and it took me a while to orient myself. Then, as orlisbunny pointed out, there ensues a lot of killing and battling and enumerating of deaths and bits of armour. But by now, ch. 9, I am quite enthralled by it.

Things to get used to: the use of adjectives (Iris is always "fleetfooted", every chariot is "well-made", every spear is "long-shadowed" -- which is rather lovely, actually). Perhaps these were mnemonic techniques designed to help in oral delivery -- as was the use of repetition, so that sometimes the same action will be reported in exactly the same words.

Also, the constant interference by gods and goddesses is something you have to get used to as a modern reader. I asked myself frequently, why do these guys bother to fight at all? What is the point when all your efforts are foiled by some goddess's trick (e.g. battle opponents whisked away at the last moment wrapped in a cloud).

What also surprised me was how unwilling the men seem to fight. On almost every page, there is mention of the men having to be cajoled and bullied into fighting. They're forever having to be mocked into taking arms and prevented from running away.

After getting used to the rhythm of it, I started to find the description of fighting quite compelling. The very repetitiveness evokes the relentlessness of going on and on and on.

A very poignant battle moment is the meeting of Diomedes (Achaean) and Glaucus (Trojan) on the field of battle. As they prepare to duel, they suddenly discover that their fathers know each other and that one of their fathers has played host to the other's father and been fond of him. They end up pledging friendship and exchanging armour. It is quite extraordinary; I was reminded of those early days of World War One when, at Christmas, enemy troops exchanged greetings and cigarettes in no-mans' land.

What I like a lot is that Homer doesn't take sides. My sons keep asking, who are the goodies and who are the baddies? But there are no goodies and baddies, only men. It's very humane that way.

So there are intrusions of godly whim and of domestic happiness all the time into the battle horror. Such as the friendship between Glaucus and Diomedes. Then there is a moving scene between Hector, his wife Andromache and his little son Astyanax. I know that Astyanax will be thrown to his death from the Trojan parapets by the Achaeans and Andromeda taken into captivity. And the audiences of Homer must have known this too, and this makes the scene so poignant. The baby is at first frightened by Hector's helmet and the plume on top, so he takes it off and dandles the child in his arms. The child smiles, and even Andromeda is moved to smile through her tears. He says to the child, and may you grow up strong to be a heroic warrior and so forth.

Then there is some marvellous interaction between Hector and his brother Paris. Paris is whisked away in a godly cloud and plonked into his "perfumed bedchamber" by Aphrodite where he proceeds to make love to Helen (who is actually starting to yearn for her Achaean husband and relatives but is won over by his charms). Later, Hector enters and sees Paris polishing his armour. Hector is forever berating Paris for being a nancy boy (hectoring him, in fact! That must be where that comes from.) and exhorts him to be a man and fight. Paris retorts, that his beauty and charm was given him by the goddess Aphrodite, and although he may not have chosen these gifts himself, it is not done to look down on a goddess's gifts -- a rather good reply, I thought.

Later, Paris is described putting on his armour and strutting down to the gates, like a newborn foal, proud of his good looks. It's just a marvellous contrast between the two brothers. But it's not a simple opposition, it's more subtle, because Paris does fight fiercely when he does finally fight, and kills many enemies at his brother's side, and Hector does end up telling him, sorry, I will make amends when all of this is over, I know you are a great warrior, really.

The scene where Odysseus and others try to get Achilles to fight again (chapter 9 which I just finished) is absolutely wonderful. Achilles says no and argues in an almost modern pacifist way. But he is also full of resentment and rage at having had his beloved Briseis stolen from him by Agamemnon; he's implacable.

When Odysseus et al first enter Achilles' hut, there's this wonderful scene:

He [Achilles] was singing of famous men and accompanying himself on a tuneful lyre, a beautifully ornamented instrument with a silver crossbar, which he had chosen from the spoils when he destroyed Eetions' city. He was alone but for Patroclus, who was sitting opposite with his eyes on Achilles, quietly waiting for him to stop singing.

Isn't that beautiful? This quiet moment, hinting at other sides of the warrior - he can play the lyre, he loves beautiful things, and he keeps averring how much he loves Briseis - and the lovely, simple description of Patroclus with his eyes on Achilles.

Am worried that Petersen will spoil this story. But then a true classic is spoiler-resistant. No matter how many bad adaptations of Jane Austen I see, after all, I still adore her books.

Things that already annoy me about the Petersen film: Apparently, he's removed the gods. Annoyment number 1. He's also aged everyone down. I mean, the action in the Iliad takes place 19 years after Helen's abduction. Say, Paris was 20 when he stole her away: that makes him almost 40 by the time we get to the Iliad. Orlando Bloom does not look 40. If Petersen has done it to bring out the pretty-brother thing, fine -- though I remain suspicious. thejennabides tells me that Patroclus, who btw is older than Achilles and who is Achilles' squire and friend, has been demoted to "beloved cousin" in the script. *vomits quietly into nearby potplant*

Anyway, will post more musings as I continue to read.