Odyssey Reading Group: Book 7 Lines 133-157

Welcome to the Odyssey Reading Group! Anyone is welcome to join in at any time, regardless of their Greek ability. If you’re itching to explore Homer’s epic tale of survival, adventure, love, lust, kinship, betrayal and spooky dead people, hop on in, you’ll be very welcome. People who have some Greek but have never tried reading Homer before are doubly welcome.

Please feel free to ask any question in this thread, no matter how basic you think it is, and we will try to help you with an answer.

Check the introductory thread for a description of how the group works.

We’re working from Geoffrey Steadman’s Odyssey Books 6-8, a freely-available pdf with vocabulary and notes

Resources for deeper study are available in the group dropbox folder

We started at Book 6. Here are all the threads so far:

Book 6
Lines 1-23
24-47
48-70
71-92
93-118
119-140
141-161
162-185
186-210
211-238
239-261
262-294
295-331 [end]

Book 7
1-26
27-47
48-77
78-102
103-132133 ἔνθα στὰς θηεῖτο πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεύς.
134 αὐτὰρ ἐπεὶ δὴ πάντα ἑῷ θηήσατο θυμῷ,
135 καρπαλίμως ὑπὲρ οὐδὸν ἐβήσετο δώματος εἴσω.
136 εὗρε δὲ Φαιήκων ἡγήτορας ἠδὲ μέδοντας
137 σπένδοντας δεπάεσσιν ἐυσκόπῳ ἀργεϊφόντῃ,
138 ᾧ πυμάτῳ σπένδεσκον, ὅτε μνησαίατο κοίτου.
139 αὐτὰρ ὁ βῆ διὰ δῶμα πολύτλας δῖος Ὀδυσσεὺς
140 πολλὴν ἠέρʼ ἔχων, ἥν οἱ περίχευεν Ἀθήνη,
141 ὄφρʼ ἵκετʼ Ἀρήτην τε καὶ Ἀλκίνοον βασιλῆα.
142 ἀμφὶ δʼ ἄρʼ Ἀρήτης βάλε γούνασι χεῖρας Ὀδυσσεύς,
143 καὶ τότε δή ῥʼ αὐτοῖο πάλιν χύτο θέσφατος ἀήρ.
144 οἱ δʼ ἄνεῳ ἐγένοντο, δόμον κάτα φῶτα ἰδόντες·
145 θαύμαζον δʼ ὁρόωντες. ὁ δὲ λιτάνευεν Ὀδυσσεύς·
146 “Ἀρήτη, θύγατερ Ῥηξήνορος ἀντιθέοιο,
147 σόν τε πόσιν σά τε γούναθʼ ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας
148 τούσδε τε δαιτυμόνας· τοῖσιν θεοὶ ὄλβια δοῖεν
149 ζωέμεναι, καὶ παισὶν ἐπιτρέψειεν ἕκαστος
150 κτήματʼ ἐνὶ μεγάροισι γέρας θʼ ὅ τι δῆμος ἔδωκεν·
151 αὐτὰρ ἐμοὶ πομπὴν ὀτρύνετε πατρίδʼ ἱκέσθαι
152 θᾶσσον, ἐπεὶ δὴ δηθὰ φίλων ἄπο πήματα πάσχω.”
153 ὣς εἰπὼν κατʼ ἄρʼ ἕζετʼ ἐπʼ ἐσχάρῃ ἐν κονίῃσιν
154 πὰρ πυρί· οἱ δʼ ἄρα πάντες ἀκὴν ἐγένοντο σιωπῇ.
155 ὀψὲ δὲ δὴ μετέειπε γέρων ἥρως Ἐχένηος,
156 ὃς δὴ Φαιήκων ἀνδρῶν προγενέστερος ἦεν
157 καὶ μύθοισι κέκαστο, παλαιά τε πολλά τε εἰδώς·

You’ll have to indulge me here. I’ve become interested in a little mystery connecting the Odyssey and Welsh literature. The mist (θέσφατος ἀήρ) that Athena cloaks Odysseus in before he enters the town reminded me of the “magic mist” that’s a recurring device in Celtic literature, which either conceals a character embarking on a quest, or is a physical barrier through which they must pass, often into the Otherworld (Annwfn in Welsh, more famously Tír na nÓg in Irish). The Otherworld is characterised by the uncanny and can be dangerous, but is often also a ‘happy otherworld’ of plenty, similar to Scheria.

In one particular medieval tale (collected in the ‘Mabinogion’, but that’s a disputed term), Geraint mab Erbin, Geraint asks directions from a stranger, who tells him to avoid one road because “there is a hedge of mist, and within it are enchanted games… and the court of Earl Owain”. Geraint ignores his advice and goes to Owain’s court, where he finds a large orchard, washes, and is feasted. He then travels through the hedge of mist to take part in the enchanted games, where he wins, banishes the mist and returns home to enjoy his “warlike fame”.

The mist itself is obviously quite common in Greek literature - on Hylander and mwh’s advice I’ve started reading the Theogony and was greeted on the very first page by the muses “κεκαλυμμέναι ἠέρι πολλῷ” - but I was struck by the several similarities between Geraint’s story and Odysseus’ experiences in Scheria. As there’s no evidence of the reception of Greek literature in high medieval Wales, I can only assume that it is a coincidence that these international folk motifs have come together in a similar way. Mist in particular seems to be a very ancient marker of liminality in folk literature.

A nice epilogue - while I was looking into this, I found a bit in Pausanias (Description of Greece 10.22.11) where the Celtic general Brennus attacks the pass at Thermopylae, taking the Phocians guarding it by surpise, because the Gaulish army was concealed until the last moment… by mist (τήν τε ὁμίχλην κατὰ τοῦ ὄρους καταχεῖσθαι πολλὴν).

Some notes/questions:

138 ᾧ πυμάτῳ - I assume this is a standard case of Smyth 1042?
142 ἀμφὶ δʼ ἄρʼ Ἀρήτης βάλε γούνασι χεῖρας - for anyone using Steadman, he has ἀμφὶ with γούνασι but this is surely tmesis?
148 τοῖσιν θεοὶ ὄλβια δοῖεν / ζωέμεναι - LSJ has ὄλβια as adverbial here, but Stanford suggests it’s better to take it as a noun, citing 8.413 “καὶ σὺ φίλος μάλα χαῖρε, θεοὶ δέ τοι ὄλβια δοῖεν.” I present no opinion but merely offer up this morsel for your delectation.

138 Yes.
142 Yes. (Not that there’s much difference.)
148 is interesting. I think this is a case where there’s a slight shift, calling for retroactive readjustment. ὄλβια is first understood as direct object of δοῖεν as at 8.413, but the appended ζωέμεναι, while adding little, converts it into a somewhat awkward internal accusative, “may the gods grant them to have a prosperous life.”
I trust you in turn are duly delectated.

Delectatable.

Odysseus’ supplication (146-152):

“Ἀρήτη, θύγατερ Ῥηξήνορος ἀντιθέοιο,
σόν τε πόσιν σά τε γούναθʼ ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας
τούσδε τε δαιτυμόνας· τοῖσιν θεοὶ ὄλβια δοῖεν
ζωέμεναι, καὶ παισὶν ἐπιτρέψειεν ἕκαστος
κτήματʼ ἐνὶ μεγάροισι γέρας θʼ ὅ τι δῆμος ἔδωκεν·
αὐτὰρ ἐμοὶ πομπὴν ὀτρύνετε πατρίδʼ ἱκέσθαι
θᾶσσον, ἐπεὶ δὴ δηθὰ φίλων ἄπο πήματα πάσχω.”

He addresses Arete by name, which he’s only just learned from Athena, and shows he knows the name of her father (Alcinous’ brother!). Then he supplicates Alcinous, her knees and the feasters in that order, slipping in the reason for his supplication (ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας). He wishes them (τοῖσιν) happiness, and that they might pass on their honour-gift (γέρας) from the δῆμος. Finally, he gets out the tiny violin and sells his sob story, including a plural imperative (ὀτρύνετε) to give him a lift home.

There are a few interesting things to note. What does it tell us that his supplication of Nausicaa in Book 6 is 36 lines (149-185) while this only takes him 7 lines? Nausicaa, giving him instructions, says of Alcinous “τὸν παραμειψάμενος μητρὸς περὶ γούνασι χεῖρας / βάλλειν ἡμετέρης”, so why does Odysseus give so much prominence to him (“σόν τε πόσιν”) and the feasters (“τούσδε τε δαιτυμόνας”) in his supplication, including his wishes for the future which seem to be directed at the δαιτυμόνας in particular? What exactly is the γέρας, and why does Odysseus will think it will be convincing to wish them the ability to pass it and their possessions on to their children (contrast this with his divination that Nausicaa wanted a husband)? Is Arete sitting with her spindle while all of this happens (cf. 6.305-6 ἡ δʼ ἧσται ἐπʼ ἐσχάρῃ ἐν πυρὸς αὐγῇ, / ἠλάκατα στρωφῶσʼ ἁλιπόρφυρα, θαῦμα ἰδέσθαι)?

LSJ glosses γέρας here as “privilege, prerogative conferred on kings or nobles,” I think it should probably be though of in terms of material wealth as much as regal authority. This concept of the “prerogative” of the nobility as conferred by the δῆμος calls to mind the famous speech of Sarpedon in Iliad 12.310 ff., in which he insists that it’s due to his and Glaukos’ assumption of responsibility for courageously leading the Lycian troops out in front in battle that they receive honors from the Lycians such as the best cuts of meat and the most cups of wine. Alkinoos, of course, is not leading the troops in battle – no need for that in the isolated paradise of Scheria – but his and the other nobles’ γέρας is conferred by the δῆμος as the reward for leadership.

For the form of the supplication, compare the opening of the Iliad, where the priest of Apollo Chryses supplicates the Greeks and the sons of Atreus in particular for the release of his daughter, Iliad 17-21

Ἀτρεΐδαι τε καὶ ἄλλοι ἐϋκνήμιδες Ἀχαιοί,
ὑμῖν μὲν θεοὶ δοῖεν Ὀλύμπια δώματ᾽ ἔχοντες
ἐκπέρσαι Πριάμοιο πόλιν, εὖ δ᾽ οἴκαδ᾽ ἱκέσθαι:
παῖδα δ᾽ ἐμοὶ λύσαιτε φίλην, τὰ δ᾽ ἄποινα δέχεσθαι,
ἁζόμενοι Διὸς υἱὸν ἑκηβόλον Ἀπόλλωνα.

  1. Vocative address
  2. μεν Wishing them well
  3. δε Request

Odysseus doesn’t use μεν . . . δε, but rather αυταρ, to articulate the supplication and get from the well-wishing to the request. But the pattern is the same.

So before getting down to the request, Odysseus has to wish everyone well. That’s an essential piece in the supplication. And what else would he wish, other than a happy life and the continued prosperity of their line after them? Kind of like a toast.

Priam’s supplication of Achilles in Iliad 24 to release not his son but his son’s body mirrors Chryses’ supplication in Iliad 1 to release his living daughter, in a sort of ring form, but it’s very different, a direct appeal to Achilles to think of his aging father in Phthia. Perhaps the departure from the standard supplication formula is deliberate and would have registered with the audience, enhancing the poignance of the passage.

As I think has been discussed, in Book 1 of the Aeneid, Aeneas’ arrival at the court of Dido in Carthage pointedly evokes Odysseus’ arrival among the Phaeacians. He too arrives surrounded in mist, in which a different goddess, his mother Venus, has cloaked him for protection as he passes among the Carthaginians, and the mist dissipates when he stands before Dido. So there’s another mistification for you. But of course in Vergil’s case it’s not an independently conceived mist – Vergil is all but explicitly channeling Homer.

Glad to see you’ve been lured to the group! Re γέρας - so a kind of status within the community that affords certain privileges, rather than a title with associated powers. Interesting that this should be ‘passed on’ to children rather than having to be earned with each generation. I wonder whether the implication is ‘may your children be as deserving of your γέρας as you are’.

To extend your thought about sticking to and departing from the standard supplication formula - what I feel really stands out in this particular supplication is that two (female) characters, Nausicaa and Athena/child, have already told Odysseus that he should go straight past the king, Alcinous, and supplicate the queen, Arete. Nausicaa doesn’t give a reason why Arete is more important to supplicate than Alcinous. Athena implies that her status among the people of Scheria means she has a lot of sway.

But in the supplication itself, and afterwards, she is actually very passive, almost like Odysseus is supplicating a statue of a goddess, but in fact directing his speech to the people around him (the focus on her knees as the object of supplication among πόσιν and δαιτυμόνας I thought was notable). I think this is bolstered by the fact that this line

σόν τε πόσιν σά τε γούναθʼ ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας (147)

mirrors his supplication of the ‘river ἄναξ’/god in Book 5:

σόν τε ῥόον σά τε γούναθʼ ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας. (5.449)

and the fact that Athena tells him that the Phaeacians treat Arete like a god (I remember too Paul’s interesting comment in a previous thread about Odysseus praying to Nausicaa ‘like a god’ [θεῷ ὣς εὐχετοῴμην, 8.467], and obviously his comparison of her to Artemis in Book 6):

καὶ λαῶν, οἵ μίν ῥα θεὸν ὣς εἰσορόωντες
δειδέχαται μύθοισιν, ὅτε στείχῃσʼ ἀνὰ ἄστυ (7.71-2)

I’m not sure how to tie these loose ends together adequately without calling in Herr Doktor Freud, but unlike other supplications of mortals in Homer, Arete seems to be treated as an object of devotion rather than a subject who will take an active role in his deliverance. Autenrieth links her name to ἀράομαι, and she does seem to fulfil the function of a final object of his prayers (with Nausicaa as a comic mini-boss). He keeps trying to find the right person/god to supplicate, and finally gets there in Book 7.

Interesting that this should be ‘passed on’ to children rather than having to be earned with each generation.

This is an aristocratic, hereditary society. In the natural order of things, sons are expected to inherit not just the material goods but also the physical characteristics and moral character of their fathers. And father to son inheritance is of course an important theme in the Odyssey.

this line

σόν τε πόσιν σά τε γούναθʼ ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας (147)

mirrors his supplication of the ‘river ἄναξ’/god in Book 5:

σόν τε ῥόον σά τε γούναθʼ ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας. (5.449)

This is probably a formula, in which a two-syllable masculine word ending in a closed syllable can be substituted.

The focus on the knees: the act of supplication involved the ritual gesture of kneeling before the person being supplicated and laying hold of the knees. For example, in Iliad 1.407, Achilles asks his mother Thetis to clasp Zeus’ knees in asking for retribution against Agamemnon, and this is what she does in lines 500, 512. I’m not sure precisely how you accomplish this if you are supplicating a river god, though.

Looking in Cunliffe’s Lexicon of the Homeric Dialect (much more useful than Autenrieth; I recommend it highly if you want to continue reading Homer), there is a list of instances where the knees are grasped in suppication under the word γονυ:

  1. Of clasping the knees in supplication: λαβέ [μιν]
    γούνων (by the knees) Α407. Cf. Α500, 512, 557, Ζ45,
    Ο76, Υ468, Φ65, 68, 71 Χ345, Ω357, 465, 478: μητρὸς
    ποτὶ γούνασι χεῖρας βάλλειν ζ310. Cf. ζ142, 147,
    169, η142, κ264, 323, χ310, 339, 342, 365.–So with
    a word of seizing to be supplied: λισσέσκετο γούνων
    Ι451. Cf. κ481, χ337.–Sim.: περὶ γούνατ’ ἐμὰ
    στήσεσθαι λισσο-μένους Λ609. Cf. Σ457, Υ463: σὰ
    γούναθ’ ἱκάνω ε449, η147, Ἀμφινόμου πρὸς γοῦνα
    καθέζετο (as putting himself under his protection)
    σ395. Cf. γ92 = δ322, ι266, ν231.–Also λίσσομ’ ὑπὲρ
    γούνων Χ338.–Of kissing the knees in supplication:
    ἥ οἱ γούνατ’ ἔκυσσε Θ371. Cf. ξ279.

Not just in Homer. LSJ γόνυ:

freq. of clasping the knees in earnest supplication, “ἥψατο γούνων” 1.512; “ἑλεῖν, λαβεῖν γούνων” 21.71, 1.407, etc.; “τῶν γουνάτων λαβέσθαι” Hdt.9.76; ποτὶ (v.l. περὶ) or “ἀμφὶ γούνασί τινος χεῖρας βαλεῖν” Od.6.310, 7.142; “περὶ γόνυ χέρας ἱκεσίους ἔβαλον” E.Or.1414, cf. Ph.1622, etc.; “τὰ σὰ γούναθ᾽ ἱκάνομαι” Il.18.457, cf. Od.7.147, etc.; “κιχανόμενοι τὰ σὰ γοῦνα ἱκόμεθ᾽” 9.266; “ἀντίος ἤλυθε γούνων” Il.20.463; “γόνυ σὸν ἀμπίσχειν χερί” E.Supp.165; “σοῖς προστίθημι γόνασιν ὠλένας” Id.Andr.895; ἐς γούνατά τινι or “τινος πεσεῖν” Hdt.5.86, S.OC1607; “ἀμφὶ γόνυ τινὸς πίπτειν” E.Hec.787; γόνυ τινός or πρὸς γόνυ προσπίπτειν ib.339, HF79; “γόνασί τινος προσπίπτειν” Id.Or.1332 (but προσπίτνω σε γόνασιν on my knees, S.Ph.485); πίπτειν πρὸς τὰ γ. τινος, τινι, Lys.1.19, D.19.198; also “γούνων λίσσεσθαι” Il.9.451; “ἐλλιτανεύειν” Od.10.481; “γουνάζεσθαι” Il.22.345; “ἄντεσθαι πρὸς τῶν γονάτων” E.Med.710; “ἱκετεῦσαι πρὸς τ. γ.” D.58.70.



γουνάζομαι , fut. -σομαι: aor. 1
A.“γουνασάμεσθα” Orph.A.618, subj. “γουνάσσηαι” A.R.4.747, cf. Orph.A.943: (γόνυ):—Ep. Verb, clasp another’s knees (v. sub “γόνυ” 1.2): hence, implore, entreat, abs., Il. 11.130: c. inf., τῶν ὕπερ . . γουνάζομαι οὐ παρεόντων ἑστάμεναι κρατερῶς in whose name . . I implore you to stand your ground, 15.665; “νῦν δέ σε πρὸς πατρὸς γουνάζομαι” Od.13.324; “νῦν δέ σε τῶν ὄπιθεν γ., . . πρός τ᾽ ἀλόχου καὶ πατρός” 11.66; μή με . . γούνων γουνάζεο entreat me not by [clasping] my knees, Il.22.345.

There is surely a point at which a formula becomes allusion though, the oral poet calling to mind a previous line to equate one circumstance with another? These are the only two verses in Homer that begin with σόν τε or end with ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας.

Looking back, I wasn’t very clear about this point. You’re absolutely right about the mention of knees not being unusual, and obviously Odysseus’ supplication of Nausicaa begins with the very words “γουνοῦμαί σε, ἄνασσα” (6.149). It’s more that I think the three objects of the supplication here (the husband, the knees, the guests) make an interesting triptych, with Arete alone addressed by synecdoche (because she is being physically grasped).

The phrase γούναθʼ ἱκάνω only occurs three times in Homer. The first instance is Book 5, where Odysseus addresses his supplication to the ‘current and knees’ of the river god. This is the second, and the third he is supplicating Athena in the form of a shepherd, where he supplicates just the knees (σοὶ γὰρ ἐγώ γε / εὔχομαι ὥς τε θεῷ καί σευ φίλα γούναθʼ ἱκάνω., getting the ὥς τε θεῷ in as a little joke). Whether we are meant to make the association consciously or not, I think Arete is being equated with these two other gods in this passage, but that in this case Odysseus’ appeal is to the whole μεγαρον, whereas in the other two instances he hopes for help only from the person/god he is supplicating. Almost like he is supplicating ‘through’ her to the rest of the room.

Thanks, I actually do use Cunliffe when I’m reading, or just the online LSJ - I noticed this in Autenrieth because I was searching lsj.gr for Ἀρήτη, which gives you results for several dictionaries at the same time (LSJ, Middle Liddell, Bailly abrégé, Page, Dvoretsky, Autenrieth, Frisk etc.). I highly recommend it to anyone who hasn’t used it. It doesn’t parse like Logeion but if you know the headword it’s very useful and has the best formatting for the big LSJ I’ve encountered. You can also do English-Greek with Woodhouse from the same search bar.

Newton (The Rebirth of Odysseus) on how this supplication could be taken as a ritual ‘rebirth’ of Odysseus after his trials.

Radcliffe Edmonds, in Mystic Cults in Magna Graecia (p77), suggest that Arete is like a queen of the dead in Odysseus’ Orphic katabasis.

Douglas Frame (Hippota Nestor) compares Arete with Athena Polias, whose shrine was in Erechtheus’ palace (cf. 7.81) with a statue of Athena (he speculates) seated holding a distaff.

There is surely a point at which a formula becomes allusion though, the oral poet calling to mind a previous line to equate one circumstance with another? These are the only two verses in Homer that begin with σόν τε or end with ἱκάνω πολλὰ μογήσας.

In the Homeric poems we have only a small fraction of the oral hexameter tradition, so I’d be cautious about inferring a conscious equation of one circumstance to the other. We really don’t know very well how the mind of the author of the Odyssey worked.

And maybe I’m unimaginative, but I’m highly skeptical of the Newton, Edmonds and Frame interpretations. They’ve let their imaginations run wild. For one thing, these interpretations are mutually inconsistent – Arete giving birth to Odysseus, Arete as queen of the dead, Arete as Athena Pallas.

I don’t think there’s anything beyond a more or less realistic narrative here. I think if any of these interpretations were right, we would find much more in the text to support them. And I don’t think any of them adds anything to our appreciation of the text as it stands.

Odysseus already has one katabasis; he doesn’t need another. And in his explicit katabasis, the gloomy place of the dead, populated by ghosts, is very different from happy and fortunate (at least for now) Scheria.

Unless you assume that this whole episode is an Athenian interpolation, how could an Ionian poet in the 7th century or at least before 500 know of a fifth-century Athenian statue (if it’s not pure speculation, which is a specialty of Frame)?

How do you mean, inconsistent? Maybe we have a female trinity here!? But joking aside, I agree with Hylander on this, I don’t think the Odyssey calls for far-fetched interpretations. If you like to make those, you better reach for Joyce’s Ulysses (I never got farther than the first chapter).

“When a formula becomes an allusion” - I’d say in some cases inside the same work it can be rather confidently argued that we’re dealing with allusions, or variations on a theme, but if we assume that there are literary references from one work to another it becomes much more difficult, because without having a larger surviving corpus it’s difficult to say which ones are banal formulas whose sparse attestation is mere chance, and which ones are, say, conscious allusions to the Iliad by the Odyssey poet. So I think Hylander is right to be cautious.

Let your hair down! It’s fun to let your imagination run wild sometimes.

Hylander indirectly raises the good and useful question of whether archetypal readings add to our appreciation of the text. I’ll do my best to make the case for them.

I find these readings often get misinterpreted as an attempt to find a key to symbols in the text, turning it into a roman-à-clef where Arete=Athena/Persephone and Odysseus=Orpheus so we can transfer the attributes from one to the other and then Aha! we finally understand the text. If it was ever the intention of the Odyssey poet to write a roman-à-clef the ‘clef’ itself is long gone, so such analysis is worthless. The fact that a child with no knowledge of revolutionary Russia can read and enjoy Animal Farm shows how such keys are a dispensable layer of meaning in the text.

Instead, it’s better to treat archetypal readings as an attempt to explore the larger ‘plate tectonics’ of the plot, the deep currents, to create answers to the question ‘why is the narrative constructed this way, and what effect does it have on the reader?’. Then, importantly, ‘what can we learn by comparing it with other stories using similar motifs?’.

Archetypal readings don’t try to uncover secret codes, but to put a name to and describe common features of stories or characters which have a particular effect. Lots of people don’t know the term ‘middle eight’ in pop music, even if they’ve heard thousands of them, but know the exact feeling created by this departure from the rest of the song when it’s pointed out to them. I’ve read interviews with songwriters who admit they don’t know what a middle eight is, but include one because it ‘feels right’. Archetypal readings look for what ‘feels right’ in a text and ask why.

To take a modern(ish) example most people will know - A Christmas Carol can be also be read as a (Jungian) ‘rebirth’ narrative. A miser is reborn as a generous and kind man after meeting three (well, four) ghosts. There’s an allegorical layer to the text which we’re most used to dealing with - love of one’s fellow man is more important than money - but this allegory could be (and has been) represented in countless different ways.

Dickens could have used a single event to convince Scrooge to become a good man, so why bother with three ghosts? Because Scrooge is beyond simple redemption. It will take an extraordinary spiritual journey to show him the error of his ways. Whether you want to call it this or not, Scrooge must be ‘reborn’, to have a complete moral overhaul, and it requires supernatural intervention to get him there. We would ‘feel’ it was inadequate if he didn’t make this journey.

Indeed, one of the first things he says after he returns to his own bed is

’I don’t know how long I have been among the Spirits. I don’t know anything. I’m quite a baby. Never mind. I don’t care. I’d rather be a baby.

Not because Dickens wants us to think ‘Aha! A Jungian Rebirth!’ but because it plays into the underlying idea of regeneration whatever label you wish to put on it. I.e. it makes no difference to the effect of an archetype whether we recognise it consciously.

Question is - do we gain anything by consciously considering this as a ‘rebirth’ rather than just plot development? I think we do. It invites the questions ‘why does the character need to be reborn’, ‘how are they reborn’ and ‘what change has occurred after rebirth’, which in turn encourages us to compare different texts and narratives.

After he falls asleep, Scrooge, like Peer Gynt or Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day, must travel to a spiritual realm/enchanted alternate reality where he goes on a journey of moral self-realisation. The story of his own life is recounted in the process and at the end of it he sees his own death. He supplicates the spirit of death (Christmas Yet to Come), falling to his knees:

‘Am I that man who lay upon the bed?’ he cried upon his knees

‘Good Spirit,’ he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it, ‘your nature intercedes for me, and pities me’

Holding up his hands in a last prayer to have his fate reversed

The spirit returns him to his own bed when he promises “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.”

To come back to Odysseus (finally!), I find it profitable to take Scrooge’s rebirth and compare it to Odysseus’ journey. Odysseus travels to an enchanted realm (Scheria, magical orchard &c.) where characters are ‘close to the gods’ and, near death, he falls asleep, is washed and made beautiful, supplicates the queen, recounts the story of his journey, regains his strength and is magically transported home. What connects Newton, Edmonds and Frame is that they afford Arete a supernatural status which gives her the power to effect Odysseus’ rebirth.

What separates the Odyssey most clearly from modern narratives is that Odysseus doesn’t undergo a (Christian) moral transformation. He doesn’t realise he has done something wrong and needs to change his ways. Instead, he supplicates the great-granddaughter of Poseidon, whom he has wronged by blinding Polyphemus, and later his slate is wiped clean and he is allowed to continue his life. I think this speaks to an important difference between Greek and Christian/post-Christian conceptions of moral resolution, which I find enhances my appreciation of the text. Why is Odysseus’ offence against Poseidon so bad that he needs this extraordinary intervention? Something I would like to continue exploring.

I appreciate that such readings are not to everyone’s taste and have become quite unfashionable. Newton, Edmonds and Frame do themselves no favours by taking the thinking much too far and treating it too literally (as did their predecessors Frazer and Jung, let alone the Dan Browns of the world), but I agree with their common finding that Arete occupies a semi-divine status which is important in effecting Odysseus’ nostos. Treating these things as accidental or interchangeable features of the plot diminishes the power of the text for me - it would not ‘feel right’ (to me) if Athens replaced Scheria and Arete was just a normal mortal queen giving him a lift, in the same way that Scrooge talking to three blokes in the street wouldn’t have the same effect as three ghosts.

Tl;dr - all I’m saying is give archetypes a chance.

But my example is only 500 lines away in the same work. I don’t think it matters if this is a conscious allusion (unless we ‘rebirth’ the dead author, too) - the same phrase has been chosen, which naturally connects the two instances. There are other formulas for supplication which fill a verse, after all. Otherwise we descend into never being able to assign similar meaning to similar word choice and the whole of the Odyssey is just a collage.

Has no one been listening to what I say about “authorial intentions” and reception theory? Of course it doesn’t matter! :smiley: :smiley:

It’s not only possible that we interpret texts in entirely different ways from their “authors” it is inevitable. Sean if you find an a(i)illusion I see nothing wrong in it. There is a difference however between advancing a particular interpretation of a few lines and a general theory of how homeric formulae seem to work. Although maybe some Jungian argument might work here too.

You all have set out different methodologies for interpretation but I wouldn’t seek to privilege any of them. What I find fascinating is not so much what Newton, Frame and Edmonds said as why and what it reveals about their thought. If you aren’t interested in them or the reception of Homer, pass along nothing to see here. There is more secondary literature on Homer than we have time to read anyway.

Hylander with the greatest of respect “We really don’t know very well how the mind of the author of the Odyssey worked.” If this were true we couldn’t possibly be having this discussion.

The desire for an “ur understanding” receives a concrete instantiation in the farrago that now sits on top of the Athenian Acropolis. Hundreds of years of history and meaning were swept away in trying to recover some symbol of the past appropriated, to a nineteenth century conception of a nation state. We are all impoverished by such an approach.

I guess there’s no harm in trying to find occult archetypes in the Odyssey or anything else. But personally, it doesn’t enrich my experience of the Odyssey. For me, the Odyssey doesn’t need that – it stands on its own.

And the mutual inconsistency of the archetypes that have been discovered in this passage makes attempts to find archetypes seem more like a pointless intellectual game than a search for meaning and depth in the poem. Too much of that and it turns into a fog of clutter that obscures the broad sweep of a long poem, rather than something that enhances the experience of reading the Odyssey.

Why is Odysseus’ offence against Poseidon so bad that he needs this extraordinary intervention?

I won’t spoil it for you, but you will find out in Book 9. Wait till you get to the end of the Scheria episode in Book 13 to see just how angry a god like Poseidon can get.

Yes I think the danger with archetypal analysis, and perhaps the reason it’s had such a fall from grace, is that the tail starts wagging the dog when you go looking for them. The leap from Jung to Freud is sometimes very short, and as Seneca points out more is often revealed about the writer of the article than the text itself (Newton in particular may benefit from some psychoanalysis).

Much richer I think to use it to discuss thoughts and experiences you’ve already had when reading, than to start with archetypes and go searching for them. We all note the similarities in feelings evoked by separate passages in Homer - I don’t think archetypal analysis really amounts to much more than this in essence, though the paraphernalia that comes with it can be obnoxious.

Reception theory? Sounds interesting, someone should write a book about it.

I got about 5 posts into that Helen Keller thread before I abandoned all hope. Maybe I should read on!

The desire for an “ur understanding” receives a concrete instantiation in the farrago that now sits on top of the Athenian Acropolis. Hundreds of years of history and meaning were swept away in trying to recover some symbol of the past appropriated, to a nineteenth century conception of a nation state. We are all impoverished by such an approach.

You have to recognize that this is an attitude that is as historically contingent as anything, dating only to the last decades of the twentieth century, at the earliest. And the point about a nineteenth century conception of a nation state seems to me not quite to the point. The Greeks have been proud of their heritage as a people – sometimes to the point of chauvinism, to be sure – since the time of Homer and before. The Iliad and the Odyssey themselves are brimming with that pride. That’s why the Catalogue of Ships was so popular in antiquity.

Much richer I think to use it to discuss thoughts and experiences you’ve already had when reading, than to start with archetypes and go searching for them.

I agree with that, and I think looking out for concrete parallels and connections within the Odyssey and its literary and cultural environment (including the Iliad and other archaic Greek poetry and even its broader “reception” in later antiquity) is more productive than straining to find tenuous mythical archetypes.

It’s an almost trite truism that we’ll obviously never be able to experience the Odyssey as its original audience (whoever that was) did and we will never completely recover the poet’s intentions in their entirety (though I think that by alertly reading the poem we can discern some of that). But I think the body of scholarship seeking to elucidate its historical context is helpful in enhancing our experience of the poem today. I don’t see that as “clutter” at all.