JacketFlap connects you to the work of more than 200,000 authors, illustrators, publishers and other creators of books for Children and Young Adults. The site is updated daily with information about every book, author, illustrator, and publisher in the children's / young adult book industry. Members include published authors and illustrators, librarians, agents, editors, publicists, booksellers, publishers and fans. Join now (it's free).
Login or Register for free to create your own customized page of blog posts from your favorite blogs. You can also add blogs by clicking the "Add to MyJacketFlap" links next to the blog name in each post.
Blog Posts by Tag
In the past 7 days
Blog Posts by Date
Click days in this calendar to see posts by day or month
Viewing: Blog Posts Tagged with: OUP USA HE, Most Recent at Top [Help]
Results 1 - 11 of 11
How to use this Page
You are viewing the most recent posts tagged with the words: OUP USA HE in the JacketFlap blog reader. What is a tag? Think of a tag as a keyword or category label. Tags can both help you find posts on JacketFlap.com as well as provide an easy way for you to "remember" and classify posts for later recall. Try adding a tag yourself by clicking "Add a tag" below a post's header. Scroll down through the list of Recent Posts in the left column and click on a post title that sounds interesting. You can view all posts from a specific blog by clicking the Blog name in the right column, or you can click a 'More Posts from this Blog' link in any individual post.
We live in an age when Americans are both captivated and disturbed by murder trials. The Netflix smash hit Making a Murderer went viral in late December as it chronicled the seemingly wrongful convictions of a Wisconsin man and his teenage nephew for the gruesome killing of a young photographer. The success of this documentary was hardly surprising in the wake of 2014’s Serial, the most popular podcast in history and winner of a Peabody Award.
This year marks the fiftieth anniversary of the congressional passage of the Hart-Celler Immigration and Nationality Act, signed into law by President Lyndon B. Johnson. It was the culmination of a trend toward reforming immigrant admissions and naturalization policies that had gathered momentum in the early years of the Cold War era.
Venetian courtesan Veronica Franco (1546-1591) describes the perils of her profession in her one of her Familiar Letters, which she published in 1580: “To give oneself as prey to so many men, with the risk of being stripped, robbed or killed, that in one single day everything you have acquired over so much time may be taken from you, with so many other perils of injuries and horrible contagious diseases; to drink with another’s mouth, sleep with another’s eyes, move according to another’s desires, always running the clear risk of shipwreck of one’s faculties and life, what could be a greater misery?”
The gods and various mythological creatures — from minor gods to nymphs to monsters — play an integral role in Odysseus’s adventures. They may act as puppeteers, guiding or diverting Odysseus’s course; they may act as anchors, keeping Odysseus from journeying home; or they may act as obstacles, such as Cyclops, Scylla and Charbidis, or the Sirens. While Gods like Athena are generally looking out for Odysseus’s best interests, Aeolus, Poseidon, and Helios beg Zeus to punish Odysseus, but because his fate is to return home to Ithaca, many of the Gods simply make his journey more difficult. Below if a brief slideshow of images from Barry B. Powell’s new free verse translation of Homer’s The Odyssey depicting the god and other mythology.
Kirkê is the goddess of magic, also referred to as a witch or enchantress. Odysseus’ arrival to her island is described as follows, “the house of Kirkê, made of polished stone, in an open meadow. There were wolves around it from the mountains, and lions whom Kirkê had herself enchanted by giving them potions” (10.197-199). When several of Odysseus’ men enter through her doors, she turns them into “beings with the heads of swine, and a pig’s snort and bristles and shape, but their minds remained the same” (10.225-227). However, Odysseus receives assistance from Hermes when he is given a powerful herb that wards off the effect any of Kirke’s potions. Odysseus stays with her for one year, and then decides that he must go back home to Ithaca. As mentioned previously, Kirkê tells him that he must sail to Hades, the realm of the dead, to speak with the spirit of Tiresias.
Kirkê Offering the Cup to Ulysses by John William Waterhouse. 1891. Oil on canvas. Dimensions 149 cm × 92 cm (59 in × 36 in). Gallery Oldham, Oldham.
Shipwrecked from the storm that Zeus conjures up to punish him, Odysseus manages to float over to Ogygia where he encounters the nymph and beautiful goddess Kalypso with whom Odysseus embarks on a seven-year relationship with. She is a nymph, or a nature spirit, who acts as a barrier between Odysseus fulfilling his destiny and returning home to Ithaca. In Book 5, Athena says to Zeus, “he lies on an island suffering terrible pains in the halls of great Kalypso, who holds him against his will. He is not able to come to the land of his fathers” (5.12-14).
Kalypso receiving Telemachos and Mentor in the Grotto detail by William Hamilton. 18th century.
Odysseus and his men take refuge on the island of Thrinacia (the island of the sun) during their journey. They remain there for a month, but the crew's provisions eventually run out, and Odysseus' crew members slaughter the cattle of the Sun. When the Sun god (Helios) finds out, he asks Zeus to punish Odysseus and his men. Helios demands, “If they do not pay me a suitable recompense for the cattle, I will descend into the house of Hades and shine among the dead!” (12.364-366). Zeus agrees and strikes Odysseus’ ship with lightning and kills all of Odysseus’ crew members.
Head of Helios, middle Hellenistic period. Holes on the periphery of the cranium are for inserting the metal rays of his crown. The characteristic likeness to portraits of Alexander the Great alludes to Lysippan models. Archaeological Museum of Rhodes.
Odysseus and Herakles meet in the Underworld, and also encounters Herakles’ daughter Megara and mother Amphitryon. Odysseus recalls seeing Herakles and says, “Herakles was like the dark night, holding his bare bow and an arrow on the string, glaring dreadfully, a man about to shoot. The baldric around his chest was awesome—a golden strap in which were worked wondrous things, bears and wild boars and lions with flashing eyes, and combats and battles and the murders of men. I would wish that the artist did not make another one like it!” (11.570-576).
Herakles crowned with a laurel wreath, wearing the lion-skin and holding a club and a bow, detail from a scene representing the gathering of the Argonauts. From an Attic red-figure calyx-krater, ca. 460–450 BC. From Orvieto (Volsinii).
Shipwrecked after Poseidon sinks his ship, Odysseus encounters Ino (Leucothea) who takes pity on him. She leads him toward the land of the Phaeacians and says, “Here, take this immortal veil and tie it beneath your breast. You need not fear you will suffer anything. And when you get hold of the dry land with your hands, untie the veil and throw it into the wine-dark sea, far from land. Then turn away” (5.320-324).
Leucothea (1862), by Jean Jules Allasseur (1818-1903). South façade of the Cour Carrée in the Louvre palace, Paris.
In Book 10, The Achaeans sail from the land of the Cyclops to the home of Aiolus, ruler of the winds. He gifts Odysseus with a bag containing all of the winds in order to guide Odysseus and his crew home. However, the winds escape from the bag due to Odysseus’ men believing that the bag contains gold and silver, and end up bringing Odysseus and his men back to Aiolia. Aiolos provides Odysseus with no further help from then on, as he says, “It is not right that I help or send that man on his way who is hated by the blessed gods” (10.72-73). This is to say that Aiolos judges Odysseus’ return as a bad omen.
This image is a Roman mosaic from the House of Dionysos and the Four Seasons, 3rd century AD, Roman city of Volubilis, capital of the Berber king Juba II (50 BC-24 AD) in the province of Mauretania, Morocco. The Romans loved to decorate their floors with themes taken from Greek myth, and many have survived.
Athena is the most influential goddess, and a catalyst for the events in the story the Odyssey. She is not only the goddess of wisdom, but also of strategy, law and justice, and inspiration among others, and is referred to consistently in the book as “flashing-eyed Athena.” At times in Homer’s epic poem, she acts as a puppeteer throughout Odysseus’ journey as she guides his movements and modifies his and her own appearance to accommodate Odysseus’ circumstances advantageously.
Marble, Roman copy from the 1st century BC/AD after a Greek original of the 4th century BC, attributed to Cephisodotos or Euphranor. Related to the bronze Piraeus Athena.
Referred to as the “godlike” visitor, Odysseus is honored during a Phaeacian celebration hosted by Nausicaä’s parents. During the ceremony, a poet named Demdokos plays a song on his lyre, “the love song of Ares and fair-crowned Aphrodite, how they first mingled in love, in secret, in the house of Hephaistos” (8.248-250).
The adultery of Ares and Aphrodite. Clad only in a gown that comes just above her pubic area, Aphrodite holds a mirror while her half-naked lover, Ares, sitting on a nearby bench, embraces her and touches her breast. The device that imprisoned them is visible as a cloth stretched above their heads. Such paintings were especially popular in Roman brothels in Pompeii. Roman fresco from Pompeii, c. AD 60.
Approaching the Phaeacian princess Nausicaä for the first time, Odysseus asks, “are you a goddess, or a mortal? If you are a goddess, one of those who inhabit the broad heaven, I would compare you in beauty and stature and form to Artemis, the great daughter of Zeus” (6.139-142).
Wearing an elegant dress and a band about her hair, Artemis carries a torch in her left hand and a dish for drink offerings in her right hand (phialê), not her usual attributes of bow and arrows. She is labeled POTNIAAR, “lady Artemis.” An odd animal, perhaps a young sacrificial bull, gambols at her side. Athenian white-ground lekythos, c. 460-450 BC, from Eretria.
Poseidon holding a trident. Poseidon is the Greek god of the Sea, or as referred to in the epic poem, “the earth-shaker.” The god is long haired and bearded and wears a band around his head. The trident may in origin have been a thunderbolt, but it has been changed into a tuna spear. Corinthian plaque, from Penteskouphia, 550–525 BC. Musée du Louvre, CA 452
When Odysseus is on the witch-goddess Kirkê’s island (discussed later), she tells him that he must sail to Hades, the realm of the dead, to speak with the spirit of Tiresias. The underworld is described by Odysseus as a place where “total night is stretched over wretched mortals” (11.18-19). While we do not meet the god Hades directly, his realm is explored by Odysseus. During his time spent in the underworld, Odysseus meets many different people who he had met or been directly influenced by at different points in his life, including his former shipmate Elpenor, his mother Anticleia, and warriors such as Agamemnon, Achilles, Ajax, Minos, Orion, and Heracles.
Hades with Cerberus (Heraklion Archaeological Museum)
Hermes weighing souls (psychostasis). In Book 5, Hermes, messenger of the gods, is sent to tell the nymph Kalypso to allow Odysseus to leave so he can return home after several years of being detained on the island of Ogygia. Hermes is also known as the god of boundaries, and as such he is Psychopompos, or “soul-guide”: He leads the souls of the dead to the house of Hades. In a sense, Odysseus is dead, imprisoned on an island in the middle of the sea by Kalypso, the “concealer.” Here the god is shown with winged shoes (in Homer they are “immortal, golden”) and a traveler’s broad-brimmed hat, hanging behind his head from a cord. In his left hand he carries his typical wand, the caduceus, a rod entwined by two copulating snakes. In his right hand he holds a scale with two pans, in each of which is a psychê, a “breath-soul” represented as a miniature man (scarcely visible in the picture). Athenian red-figure amphora from Nola, c. 460 BC, by the Nikon Painter.
Zeus is the ruler of Mount Olympus and all of its inhabitants, and is referred to as “the son of Kronos, god of the dark cloud who rules over everything” in the Odyssey (13.26-27). Though he does not have a predominant role in the Odyssey, his presence is felt as he is the main consulting force of the other deities. He makes an important declaration about the notion of free will in Book 1, and goes on to point out that he sent his messenger Hermes to warn Aigisthos not to kill Agamemnon, but yet the mortal chose not to follow the advice. Zeus says, “And now he has paid the price in full,” in response to Aigisthos’ death. In other words, he believes that the gods can only intervene to a certain degree, but the mortal world has the ultimate control over their own fate.
Statue of a male deity, brought to Louis XIV and restored as a Zeus ca. 1686 by Pierre Granier, who added the arm raising the thunderbolt.
Barry B. Powell is Halls-Bascom Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His new free verse translation of The Odyssey was published by Oxford University Press in 2014. His translation of The Iliad was published by Oxford University Press in 2013. See previous blog posts from Barry B. Powell.
Subscribe to the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Subscribe to only classics and archaeology articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Homer’s epic poem The Odyssey recounts the 10-year journey of Odysseus from the fall of Troy to his return home to Ithaca. The story has continued to draw people in since its beginning in an oral tradition, through the first Greek writing and integration into the ancient education system, the numerous translations over the ages, and modern retellings. It has also been adapted to different artistic mediums from depictions on pottery, to scenes in mosaic, to film. We spoke with Barry B. Powell, author of a new free verse translation of The Odyssey, about how the story was embedded into ancient Greek life, why it continues to resonate today, and what translations capture about their contemporary cultures.
Visual representations of The Odyssey and understanding ancient Greek history
Barry B. Powell is Halls-Bascom Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His new free verse translation of The Odyssey was published by Oxford University Press in 2014. His translation of The Iliad was published by Oxford University Press in 2013. See previous blog posts from Barry B. Powell.
Subscribe to the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Subscribe to only classics and archaeology articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Every Ancient Greek knew their names: Odysseus, Penelope, Telemachas, Nestor, Helen, Menelaos, Ajax, Kalypso, Nausicaä, Polyphemos, Ailos… The trials and tribulations of these characters occupied the Greek mind so much that they found their way into ancient art, whether mosaics or ceramics, mirrors or sculpture. From heroic nudity to small visual cues in clothing, we present a brief slideshow of characters that appear in Barry B. Powell’s new free verse translation of The Odyssey.
In the first century BC the Roman emperor Tiberius (42 BC-AD 37) built a villa at Sperlonga between Rome and Naples. There in a grotto sculptors from Rhodes created various scenes from Greek myth, including the blinding of the Cyclops Polyphemos. Fragments of the sculptural group survive, including this evocative head of Odysseus, bearded and wearing a traveler’s cap (pilos), as he plunges a stake into the giant’s eye. Marble, c. AD 20. Museo Archeologico, Sperlonga, Italy; Scala/Ministero per i Beni e le Attività culturali / Art Resource, NY
Wearing a modest head cover (what Homer means by “veil”), she is seated on a stone wall, staring pensively at the ground, thinking of her husband. This is a typical posture in artistic representations of Penelope—legs crossed, looking downward, hand to her face (Figures 2.1, 19.1, 20.1). Roman copy (perhaps 1st century BC) of a lost Greek original, c. 460 BC. Museo Pio Clementino, Vatican Museums, Vatican State; Scala / Art Resource, NY
Telemachos, holding his helmet in his right hand and two spears in his left, a shield suspended from his arm, greets Nestor. The bent old man supports himself with a knobby staff, and his white hair is partially veiled. Behind him stands his youngest daughter (probably), Polykastê, holding a basket filled with food for the guest. South-Italian wine-mixing bowl, c. 350 BC. Staatliche Museen, Berlin 3289
The goddess presents a box of provisions for the hero’s voyage. The box is tied with a sash. The bearded Odysseus sits on a rock on the shore holding a sword and looking pensive. Athenian red-figure vase, c. 450 BC. Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Naples, Italy; Erich Lessing / Art Resource, NY
ausicaa on the left holds her ground while one of her ladies runs away with laundry draped about her shoulders (this is the other side of the vase shown in Figure 6.1). Athenian red-figure water-jar from Vulci, Italy, c. 460 BC. Inv. 2322. Staatliche Antikensammlung, Munich, Germany; Erich Lessing / Art Resource, NY
Blinded, holding his club, leaning against the cave wall, the giant reaches out to stroke his favorite ram under whom Odysseus clings. Athenian black-figure wine cup, c. 500 BC. National Archaeological Museum, Athens 1085
Roman mosaic from the House of Dionysos and the Four Seasons, 3rd century AD, Roman city of Volubilis, capital of the Berber King Juba II (50 BC - 24 AD) in the province of Mauretania, Morocco. The Romans loved to decorate their floors with themes taken from Greek myth, and many have survived. Gianni Dagli Orti / The Art Archive at Art Resource, NY
Menelaos wears a helmet and breast-guard. His right hand is poised on top of a shield while his left, holding a spear, embraces Helen. She wears a cloth cap and a necklace with three pendants and a bangle around her arm. Her cloak slips down beneath her genital area, emphasizing her sexual attractiveness. Decoration on the back of an Etruscan mirror, c. 4th century BC. Townley Collection. Cat. 712. British Museum, London; Erich Lessing / Art Resource, NY
Barry B. Powell is Halls-Bascom Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His new free verse translation of The Odyssey was published by Oxford University Press in 2014. His translation of The Iliad was published by Oxford University Press in 2013. See previous blog posts from Barry B. Powell.
Subscribe to the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Subscribe to only classics and archaeology articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.
The Ancient Greeks were incredibly imaginative and innovative in their depictions of scenes from The Odyssey, painted onto vases, kylikes, wine jugs, or mixing bowls. Many of Homer’s epic scenes can be found on these objects such as the encounter between Odysseus and the Cyclops Polyphemus and the battle with the Suitors. It is clear that in the Greek culture, The Odyssey was an influential and eminent story with memorable scenes that have resonated throughout generations of both classical literature enthusiasts and art aficionados and collectors. We present a brief slideshow of images that appear in Barry B. Powell’s new free verse translation of The Odyssey.
Telemachos (Odysseus’s son), stands to the left holding two spears, reproaching his mother. She sits mournfully on a chair, anguished by the unknown fate of her husband. Her head is bowed and legs are crossed in a pose canonical for Penelope. Athenian red-figure cup, c. 440 BC, by the Penelope Painter.
Telemachos, holding his helmet in his right hand and two spears in his left, a shield suspended from his arm, greets Nestor (the king of Pylos), who has no information about Odysseus. The bent old man supports himself with a knobby staff, and his white hair is partially veiled. Behind him stands his youngest daughter (probably), Polykastê, holding a basket filled with food for the guest. South-Italian red-figure wine-mixing bowl, c. 350 BC.
The goddess presents a box of provisions for the hero’s voyage. The box is tied with a sash. The bearded Odysseus sits on a rock on the shore holding a sword and looking pensive. Athenian red-figure vase, c. 450 BC.
Odysseus asks for the assistance of the Phaeacian princess Nausicaä while she and her handmaidens are bathing by a river. Nausicaa gives Odysseus directions to the palace and advice on how to approach Aretê, queen of the Phaeacians. In this image, the naked Odysseus holds a branch in front of his genitals so as not to startle Nausicaä and her attendants. On the right, near the edge of the picture, Nausicaä half turns but holds her ground. Athena, Odysseus’ protectress, stands between the two figures, her spear pointed to the ground. She wears a helmet and the goatskin fetish (aegis) fringed with snakes as a kind of cape. Clothes hang out to dry on a tree branch (upper left). Athenian red-figure water-jar from Vulci, Italy, c. 460 BC.
Books 9 through 12 are told as flashbacks, as Odysseus sits in the palace of the Phaeacians telling the story of his journeys, from Troy, to the land of the Lotus-Eaters, to the land of the Cyclops. Here we see the beardless Kikonian priest Maron give a sack of wine to Odysseus by which Cyclops is overcome. In his left hand, he holds a spear pointed downwards. His crowned wife stands behind him with a horn drinking cup. The very long-haired Odysseus wears high boots, a traveler’s cap (pilos), and holds a spear over his shoulder with his right hand. To the far left stands a Kikonian woman. South Italian red-figure wine-mixing bowl by the Maron Painter, 340-330 BC.
Without any wind to guide them, the Achaeans row to the land of the Laestrygonians, a race of powerful giants. In this somewhat dim Roman fresco there are ten of Odysseus’ oared ships with single masts in the middle of the narrow bay, three near the shore, half-sunk, and a fourth half-sunk near the high cliffs on the right. Five of the Laestrygonian giants stand on the shore and spear Odysseus’ men or throw down huge rocks. A sixth giant has waded into the water on the left and holds the prow of a ship in his mighty hands. From a house on the Esquiline Hill decorated with scenes from the Odyssey, Rome, c. AD 90.
Penelope sits on a chair at the far right, receiving the suitor’s gifts. The first suitor seems to offer jewelry in a box. The next suitor, carrying a staff, brings woven cloth. The third suitor, also with a staff, carries a precious bowl and turns to speak to the fourth suitor, who brings a bronze mirror. Athenian red-figure vase, c. 470 BC.
This is the other side of the cup from Figure 22.1. All the suitors, situated around a dining couch, are in “heroic nudity” but carry cloaks. On the left a suitor tugs at an arrow in his back. In the middle a suitor tries to defend himself with an overturned table. On the right a debonair suitor, with trim mustache, holds up his hands to stop the inevitable. Athenian cup, c. 450-440 BC.
The old woman, wearing the short hair of a slave, is about to discover the scar on Odysseus leg. The bearded Odysseus, dressed in rags, holds a staff in his right hand and a stick supporting his pouch in his left. He wears an odd traveler’s hat with a bill to shade his eyes. Attic red-figure drinking cup by the Penelope Painter, from Chiusi, c. 440 BC; Museo Archeologico, Chiusi, Italy; Erich Lessing/Art Resource, NY.
After the fight against the suitors, Eurykleia tries to persuade Penelope that her husband has returned. Shown here, the mourning Penelope sits in a traditional pose with her hand to her forehead and her legs crossed. Her head is veiled. She stares gloomily downwards, seated on a padded stool beneath which is a basket for yarn. The purpose of these terracotta reliefs, found in different parts of the Roman world, is unclear. Roman Relief, AD 1st century. Museo Nazionale Romano (Terme di Diocleziano), Rome; Erich Lessing / Art Resource, NY.
Barry B. Powell is Halls-Bascom Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His new free verse translation of The Odyssey was published by Oxford University Press in 2014. His translation of The Iliad was published by Oxford University Press in 2013. See previous blog posts from Barry B. Powell.
Subscribe to the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Subscribe to only classics and archaeology articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.
The Ancient Greek gods are all the things that humans are — full of emotions, constantly making mistakes — with the exception of their immortality. It makes their lives and actions often comical or superficial — a sharp contrast to the humans that are often at their mercy. The gods can show their favor, or displeasure; men and women are puppets in their world. Barry B. Powell, author of a new free verse translation of Homer’s The Odyssey, examines the gods, fate, divine interventions, and what it means in the classic epic poem.
Barry B. Powell is Halls-Bascom Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His new free verse translation of The Odyssey was published by Oxford University Press in 2014. His translation of The Iliad was published by Oxford University Press in 2013.
Subscribe to the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Subscribe to only classics and archaeology articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.
How do you hear the call of the poet to the Muse that opens every epic poem? The following is extract from Barry B. Powell’s new free verse translation of The Odyssey by Homer. It is accompanied by two recordings: one of the first 105 lines in Ancient Greek, the other of the first 155 lines in the new translation. How does your understanding change in each of the different versions?
Sing to me of the resourceful man, O Muse, who wandered
far after he had sacked the sacred city of Troy. He saw
the cities of many men and he learned their minds.
He suffered many pains on the sea in his spirit, seeking
to save his life and the homecoming of his companions.
But even so he could not save his companions, though he wanted to,
for they perished of their own folly—the fools! They ate
the cattle of Helios Hyperion, who took from them the day
of their return. Of these matters, beginning where you want,
O daughter of Zeus, tell to us.
Now all the rest
were at home, as many as had escaped dread destruction,
fleeing from the war and the sea. Odysseus alone
a queenly nymph, Kalypso, a shining one among the goddesses,
held back in her hollow caves, desiring that he become
her husband. But when, as the seasons rolled by, the year came
in which the gods had spun the threads of destiny
that Odysseus return home to Ithaca, not even then
was he free of his trials, even among his own friends.
All the gods pitied him, except for Poseidon.
Poseidon stayed in an unending rage at godlike Odysseus
until he reached his own land. But Poseidon had gone off
to the Aethiopians who live faraway—the Aethiopians
who live split into two groups, the most remote of men—
some where Hyperion sets, and some where he rises.
There Poseidon received a sacrifice of bulls and rams,
sitting there and rejoicing in the feast.
The other gods
were seated in the halls of Zeus on Olympos. Among them
the father of men and gods began to speak, for in his heart
he was thinking of bold Aigisthos, whom far-famed Orestes,
the son of Agamemnon, had killed. Thinking of him,
he spoke these words to the deathless ones: “Only consider,
how mortals blame the gods! They say that from us
comes all evil, but men suffer pains beyond what is fated
through their own folly! See how Aigisthos pursued
the wedded wife of the son of Atreus, and then he killed
Agamemnon when he came home, though he well knew
the end. For we spoke to him beforehand, sending Hermes,
the keen-sighted Argeïphontes, to say that he should not kill
Agamemnon and he should not pursue Agamemnon’s wife.
For vengeance would come from Orestes to the son of Atreus,
once Orestes came of age and wanted to reclaim his family land.
So spoke Hermes, but for all his good intent he did not persuade
Aigisthos’ mind. And now he has paid the price in full.”
Then the goddess, flashing-eyed Athena, answered him:
“O father of us all, son of Kronos, highest of all the lords,
surely that man has fittingly been destroyed. May whoever
else does such things perish as well! But my heart
is torn for the wise Odysseus, that unfortunate man,
who far from his friends suffers pain on an island surrounded
by water, where is the very navel of the sea. It is a wooded
island, and a goddess lives there, the daughter of evil-minded
Atlas, who knows the depths of every sea, and himself
holds the pillars that keep the earth and the sky apart.
Kalypso holds back that wretched, sorrowful man.
Ever with soft and wheedling words she enchants him,
so that he forgets about Ithaca. Odysseus, wishing to see
the smoke leaping up from his own land, longs to die. But your
heart pays no attention to it, Olympian! Did not Odysseus
offer you abundant sacrifice beside the ships in broad Troy?
Why do you hate him so, O Zeus?”
Zeus who gathers the clouds
then answered her: “My child, what a word has escaped the barrier
of your teeth! How could I forget about godlike Odysseus,
who is superior to all mortals in wisdom, who more than any other
has sacrificed to the deathless goes who hold the broad heaven?
But Poseidon who holds the earth is perpetually angry with him
because of the Cyclops, whose eye he blinded—godlike
Polyphemos, whose strength is greatest among all the Cyclopes.
The nymph Thoösa bore him, the daughter of Phorkys
who rules over the restless sea, having mingled with Poseidon
in the hollow caves. From that time Poseidon, the earth-shaker,
does not kill Odysseus, but he leads him to wander from
his native land. But come, let us all take thought of his homecoming,
how he will get there. Poseidon will abandon his anger!
He will not be able to go against all the deathless ones alone,
against their will.”
Then flashing-eyed Athena, the goddess,
answered him: “O our father, the son of Kronos, highest
of all the lords, if it be the pleasure of all the blessed gods
that wise Odysseus return to his home, then let us send Hermes
Argeïphontes, the messenger, to the island of Ogygia, so that
he may present our sure counsel to Kalypso with the lovely tresses,
that Odysseus, the steady at heart, need now return home.
And I will journey to Ithaca in order that I may the more
arouse his son and stir strength in his heart to call the Achaeans
with their long hair into an assembly, and give notice to all the suitors,
who devour his flocks of sheep and his cattle with twisted horns,
that walk with shambling gait. I will send him to Sparta and to sandy
Pylos to learn about the homecoming of his father, if perhaps
he might hear something, and so that might earn a noble fame
among men.”
So she spoke, and she bound beneath her feet
her beautiful sandals—immortal, golden!—that bore her
over the water and the limitless land together with the breath
of the wind. She took up her powerful spear, whose point
was of sharp bronze, heavy and huge and strong,
with which she overcomes the ranks of warriors when she is angry
with them, the daughter of a mighty father. She descended
in a rush from the peaks of Olympos and took her stand
in the land of Ithaca in the forecourt of Odysseus, on the threshold
of the court. She held the bronze spear in her hand, taking on
the appearance of a stranger, Mentes, leader of the Taphians.
There she found the proud suitors. They were taking their pleasure,
playing board games in front of the doors, sitting on the skins
of cattle that they themselves had slaughtered. Heralds
and busy assistants mixed wine with water for them
in large bowls, and others wiped the tables with porous sponges
and set them up, while others set out meats to eat in abundance.
Godlike Telemachos was by far the first to notice
her as he sat among the suitors, sad at heart, his noble
father in his mind, wondering if perhaps he might come
and scatter the suitors through the house and win honor
and rule over his own household. Thinking such things,
sitting among the suitors, he saw Athena. He went straight
to the outer door, thinking in his spirit that it was a shameful thing
that a stranger be allowed to remain for long before the doors.
Standing near, he clasped her right hand and took the bronze
spear from her. Addressing her, he spoke words that went
like arrows: “Greetings, stranger! You will be treated kindly
in our house, and once you have tasted food, you will tell us
what you need!”
So speaking he led the way, and Pallas Athena
followed. When they came inside the high-roofed house,
Telemachos carried the spear and placed it against a high column
in a well-polished spear rack where were many other spears
belonging to the steadfast Odysseus. He led her in and sat her
on a chair, spreading a linen cloth beneath—beautiful,
elaborately-decorated—and below was a footstool for her feet.
Beside it he placed an inlaid chair, apart from the others,
so that the stranger might not be put-off by the racket and fail
to enjoy his meal, despite the company of insolent men.
Also, he wished to ask him about his absent father.
A slave girl brought water for their hands in a beautiful golden
vessel, and she set up a polished table beside them.
The modest attendant brought out bread and placed it before them,
and many delicacies, giving freely from her store. A carver
lifted up and set down beside them platters with all kinds
of meats, and set before them golden cups, while a herald
went back and forth pouring out wine for them.
In came the proud suitors, and they sat down in a row
on the seats and chairs, and the heralds poured out water for
their hands, and women slaves heaped bread by them in baskets,
and young men filled the wine-mixing bowls with drink.
The suitors put forth their hands to the good cheer lying before them,
and when they had exhausted their desire for drink and food,
their hearts turned toward other things, to song and dance.
For such things are the proper accompaniment of the feast.
A herald placed the very beautiful lyre in the hands of Phemios,
who was required to sing to the suitors. And he thrummed the strings
as a prelude to song.
Barry B. Powell is Halls-Bascom Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin, Madison. His new free verse translation of The Odyssey was published by Oxford University Press in 2014.His translation of The Iliad was published by Oxford University Press in 2013.
Subscribe to the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Subscribe to only classics and archaeology articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.
The illustration of a graphic history begins with the author’s script. There are two aspects to turning that script into artwork. It’s both a story, calling for decisions to be made about the best way to present the narrative visually, and a history, rooted in fact and raising questions about what the places and people (and their furniture and transportation and utensils) would actually have looked like.
A sketch of Esther Mendoza, wife of Daniel Mendoza. Courtesy of Liz Clarke. Used with permission.
It’s unlikely that we’ll find perfect answers to all of these questions, particularly in a pre-photography age like the late 18th century, when Daniel Mendoza was at the height of his boxing career. Some subjects offer a wealth of images. Some, like a number of the places Mendoza frequented in London, still exist today. I was able to work from current photographs of locations including Mendoza’s house in Paradise Row, the cemetery where he is buried, and the exterior of the White Hart Inn. We had several images of Mendoza himself to refer to, thanks to his celebrity status. We knew what he looked like at different points in his life, how tall he was and how much he weighed. We knew about his fighting style from newspaper reports, artwork, and from his own instructional writing.
However, other subjects may not have been recorded in an image or even in a written description at the time. If records were made, they may not have survived. This means we have to cast the net wider. There are many sources of general information available that allow a lateral approach — records of people and places with shared characteristics, surviving artefacts and garments, artwork and documents from the time. There was nothing definite to work from in the case of Mendoza’s wife Esther, but we could ask what a woman like Mendoza’s wife would have looked like. How would a woman similar in age, class, and religion to Esther have dressed and worn her hair? We could then blend fact and imagination to arrive at a concept sketch of Esther, which allowed us to agree on how we would depict her.
A page from Mendoza the Jew, showing the process from the sketch stage to the final piece. Courtesy of Liz Clarke. Used with permission.
Once we have enough information, each page is planned in detail. I’ll decide on the composition of the whole page, and of the contents of each panel on the page. There are choices to make about viewpoint (for example, if the scene is going to be presented from a low angle, looking up at it, or a high angle, looking down on it, which creates two very different effects), how to draw attention to the pivotal point in the scene, the characters’ body language and expressions, if they aren’t already defined by the script, and how to convey the themes of the book. This layout sketch is the most important stage in the illustration of a page.
Once the author has approved the sketch, I draw it in ink as line art and prepare this to be coloured digitally. Colour and the nature and direction of the light can also contribute to the storytelling. For example, the desaturated colours at the beginning of an exchange between Mendoza and Humphries, when Mendoza is not at his best, gradually become brighter and warmer by the end of the scene, as their verbal sparring restores Mendoza’s fighting spirit. The text comprising the narrative and dialogue is added to the art, and text boxes and speech bubbles are fitted to it. For Mendoza the Jew, we decided to use three different fonts. Two fonts with some resemblance to typefaces from the time period represented quotes from Mendoza’s autobiography and from a newspaper report of Mendoza’s match against Humphries in Doncaster, distinguishing the author’s words from Mendoza’s, and those of the reporter.
As an artist, illustrating a graphic history, as opposed to a work of fiction, has some unique rewards as well as challenges. There’s an awareness that these were real individuals and events, and it always feels like a privilege to be telling their stories.
Amidst all the commentary occasioned by Russia fishing in troubled Ukrainian waters, one fundamental point tends to get lost from sight. Like many other recent points of international tension, this one raises the question of what are the rules great powers play by.
The United States has championed a values-based approach with a strong missionary impulse behind it. Woodrow Wilson provided its first full-blown articulation, and post-World War II policy saw to its full-blown application. Holding a dominant global position, Washington sought with varying degrees of urgency and determination to advance a basket of ideological goods. US leaders have articulated these goods in a variety of ways such as “democracy,” “free-market capitalism,” and “human rights.” But underlying all these formulations is a strong and distinctly American belief in the autonomy of the individual and a commitment to political liberty and limited state power. In the rhetoric of American statecraft these notions are a leitmotiv. They have generally set the direction of US policy responses to problems of the sort that Ukraine poses.
This American approach contrasts with a core dictum of classic realism: great powers have fundamental security interests most often manifested territorially. The venerable term to describe this situation is “spheres of influence.” What happens near borders matters considerably more than what happens half a world away. Globalization has perhaps qualified the dictum but hardly repealed it.
Even American policymakers observe this territorial imperative in their own neighbourhood. Consider the continuing importance of the proximate in US policy: the persistent neuralgia over a defiant Cuba; military interventions in Grenada, Panama, and Haiti; recurrent covert meddling against troublesome governments south of the border; and the intense attention given Mexico. No US leaders these days invokes the Monroe Doctrine (or at least the robust Teddy Roosevelt version of it), but the pattern of US action reveals what they can’t afford to say.
Chateau Nid d’hirondelle, près de Yalta. Photo par Traroth sous GFDL. CC-BY-SA-3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.
To be sure, Russian leaders would also like to have it both ways. They too have championed their own set of values though with less enthusiasm than did Soviet leaders, who in turn themselves fell short of the Americans in their commitment to missionary projects.
But Russian and Soviet leaders alike have given clear priority to the near frontier. The consolidation of control over eastern Europe after World War II reflected this concern. So too did the dramatic interventions of 1956 and 1968 to crush unrest and the constant string pulling by members of the Politburo assigned to keep a hawk-like watch over clients in the East bloc. The intervention in Afghanistan, shaped by a fear of Islamist unrest spreading into nearby Soviet territories, fits within this pattern. That Putin would now respond to, even exploit the political disintegration in Ukraine just as he took advantage of the disputes along Georgian border can come as a shock only to observers oblivious to the dictates of realist statecraft.
The Ukraine crisis is a striking reminder of the continuing, fundamental division over the rules of the international game. Do major powers have special regional interests, or are they tightly constrained by far-reaching standards posited and defended by the United States? The American answer doesn’t have to be the latter. FDR in his conception of the postwar order and Nixon in moving toward detente and normalization — to take two striking exceptions — recognized the need for some degree of accommodation among the leading powers. They accorded diplomacy a central role in identifying areas of accord while setting to one side knotty issues connected to lands that adjoined the major powers.
But on the whole US policy has downplayed diplomacy as a regulator of great-power relations by often making capitulation the precondition for any opponent entering into talks. Real diplomacy would get in the way of the overriding preoccupation with holding in check regional powers whether China, Iran, Russia, or India that might pose a challenge to the United States. (The EU occupies an ambiguous position in this list of regionals as a powerhouse that hasn’t yet figured out how to realize its potential and for the moment speaks through Germany.) This US approach, most forcefully articulated by the Cheney doctrine at the end of the George H. W. Bush administration, is a prescription for unending tension, with the US policy a source of constant discord at one point and then another around the world.
It is hard to imagine a more misguided basis for policy, especially for a once dominant power steadily slipping in clout. The foundations for a better managed, more peaceful, and even more humane international order is more likely to emerge from great-power negotiations and compromise. Promoting a sense of security and comity among the dominant states may in the bargain discourage rough stuff in their neighbourhoods far better than confrontation and high-minded if hypocritical blustering.
Michael Hunt is the Everett H. Emerson Professor of History Emeritus at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. He is the author of The World Transformed, 1945 to the Present. A leading specialist on international history, Hunt is the author of several prize-winning books, including The Making of a Special Relationship: The United States and China to 1914. His long-term concern with US foreign relations is reflected in several broad interpretive, historiographical, and methodological works, notably Ideology and U.S. Foreign Policy and Crises in U.S. Foreign Policy: An International History Reader.
Subscribe to the OUPblog via email or RSS.
Subscribe to only current affairs articles on the OUPblog via email or RSS.
