This book is not yet featured on Listopia. Community Reviews. Showing Rating details. More filters. Sort order. Nov 26, noah rated it really liked it Shelves: classics. Jun 13, Jake Cooper rated it liked it Shelves: classics , poetry , male-author. More poem than I expected. Pretty, but I found the storyline hard to follow. Jan 29, Tori rated it really liked it Shelves: poetry. I'll confess now that I didn't make it all the way through the original Iliad; it tails off quite a bit in the middle, once all the major heroes are laid up wounded.
I say 'reworking' rather than translation, as he did not work with the original Greek text, although he did consult literal translations, although I see little point in being snobby about this, for the end product remains interesting, livel I'll confess now that I didn't make it all the way through the original Iliad; it tails off quite a bit in the middle, once all the major heroes are laid up wounded. I say 'reworking' rather than translation, as he did not work with the original Greek text, although he did consult literal translations, although I see little point in being snobby about this, for the end product remains interesting, lively and innovative.
Using free verse, Logue produces a thoroughly modern rendering of the Iliad; his style is filmic, opening with imagery drawn from the language of film and sprinkling it liberally throughout the work.
Accordingly, the dialogue is now tighter, and rather than digressing in the classical style, he shows a reader exactly what they must see - rather than the sometimes direct telling of the original. He also toys with the imagery of the story itself; still a war text, it now makes reference to helicopters and cars, while remaining a Greek epic, fought with swords and chariots.
The most notable innovation in my eyes was his handling of religious language: rather than retaining the oblique diction of classical Greek, Logue makes use of the Christian diction with which our own society is replete.
Zeus is now simply God, and the other deities are lower gods and goddesses. Logue was apparently urged to think of the Greeks as essentially musical in their poetry, and by avoiding the sometimes difficult-to-understand pantheon in favour of a reduced, more recognisable one, he brings the Iliad back into the ear, rather than the brain, of readers.
Is it a masterful translation? Certainly not - in fact, it's not even a translation at all, but a recasting, in which, like recent stage adapters of Greek drama, Logue pares away the cultural fat of the ancient masterpiece to reveal a new, spare, and thoroughly modern work. Jun 06, Vishvapani rated it really liked it Shelves: poetry.go site
Iliad Studyguide, Books
Logue's amazing reworking shows what is so powerful in The Iliad: the sense that everything that matters is focused, intensely upon what is happening in this moment, these words, these actions. That's what makes it such a primal work. The early books of The Iliad tell a story of pride, bullying and petulance, and it's Homer's genius to make this compelling rather than petty. In Logue, too, we feel how completely these actions matter.
They occur in a present that burns away anything peripheral in Logue's amazing reworking shows what is so powerful in The Iliad: the sense that everything that matters is focused, intensely upon what is happening in this moment, these words, these actions. They occur in a present that burns away anything peripheral into moments cannot be recounted too often. What else are heroism, glory and myth? They compel the gods, and are shadowed by knowledge of the chain that starts here and will leads to the deaths of Patroclus and Hector and all the brutality and loss the Iliad recounts.
Logue's genius is to make these events resonate in amazingly vivid language imagery and language, as if these events are happening again, right now, and demand the whole of our attention. Jan 25, Courtney Johnston rated it liked it Shelves: poetry. The book of negotiation, double-dealing, pique, bullheadedness and bullishness. Declare, O Muse! Academy of American Poets Educator Newsletter. Teach This Poem. Follow Us.
The Iliad—A Practical Approach
Find Poets. Read Stanza. Jobs for Poets. Materials for Teachers. The Walt Whitman Award. James Laughlin Award. Ambroggio Prize. Dear Poet Project. He couldn't be a king who'd naturally prefer a queen like Hera. What was needed was a simple, honest, unpretentious middle-of-the-road voter. Having recently visited Asia Minor and knowing all things anyway, Zeus chose as judge a simple shepherd who was actually a royal prince, abandoned at birth—Hera would like that and she was, after all, the goddess Zeus slept with—because an oracle had declared that he'd bring about the end of his native city Troy.
His name was Paris , sometimes known as Alexander. The three goddesses contending in this, the primordial Miss Universe pageant, appeared before him and strutted their stuff.
The question-and-answer part of the pageant turned out to be crucial, since the question Paris posed to the goddesses was basically "If I pick you, what will you do for me? First, Hera promised him kingly power, but what does a shepherd care about being a king? He's probably never seen a city or government, and he's a king already—of sheep!
Second, Athena vowed to make him wise, but that wasn't really a very wise choice because, if he'd been wise enough to see the wisdom of her gift, why would he have needed wisdom? Finally, Aphrodite swore to give him the most beautiful woman in the world as his wife, a very savvy bribe since women are a commodity in short supply among shepherds and the most beautiful women in the world are seldom ever seen in shepherd circles. Paris' choice was clear. He handed Aphrodite the apple and earned for himself and his native city Troy Hera and Athena's unending enmity.
But even as she walked the walk, weeping, waving and hugging the apple, Aphrodite must have known there was a catch. How this had come to be is a story in itself, one that begins like many Greek myths which oracles don't launch, with Zeus' libidinous proclivities, in this case his special interest in a mortal woman named Leda.
As so often happened to him, things didn't begin with a bang for the king of the universe because, when he first approached the lovely Leda, she rejected him. Apparently, she had very high standards. But a little later Zeus spotted her embracing a pet bird, which gave him an idea. He turned himself into a beautiful white swan and made a second try. Seeing the lovely bird, Leda stretched out her arms to embrace it—and nine months later she laid two eggs. The laws of biology aren't always fully enforced in Greek myth. From each of these eggs came a set of twins—four children total—one pair mortal and one immortal: Helen and Pollux, immortal; and Clytemnestra and Castor, mortal.
Pollux and Castor later became the Gemini still seen today in astronomy and astrology. The female duo were no less famous in antiquity.
HOMER, ILIAD 1
When Helen grew up, for instance, she was so beautiful that many men wanted to marry her. It was decided that in order to prevent a terrible fight and much bloodshed over who would have her hand in marriage a drawing would be held to determine her husband, and all the suitors would swear to protect the winner's right to have her, the so-called oath of the suitors.
At this drawing Menelaus of Sparta won, his brother Agamemnon coming in second and receiving Helen's sister Clytemnestra as his prize—a booby prize if ever there was! Clytemnestra would later kill the victorious Agamemnon upon his return home from Troy.
- The Iliad of Homer (Pope)/Book 1 - Wikisource, the free online library;
- The Iliad, Book I, Lines 1-15.
- Understanding controls;
So, at the time of the Judgment of Paris, Helen was married to Menelaus. But to secure the golden apple, Aphrodite had promised Paris the most beautiful woman in the world, and that was Helen. Now the goddess had to deliver the goods. She took Paris to Sparta and made Helen fall in love with him. Then she helped them run off to Troy together, leaving Menelaus alone and angry. He and his brother Agamemnon mustered all the suitors who had sworn to defend Menelaus' conjugal rights at a port in northeastern Greece called Aulis.
There they gathered and prepared their ships for an assault on Troy and the treacherous wife-stealer Paris. A problem developed, however. The winds constantly blew toward shore and wouldn't let the Greek fleet sail. After a long delay, prophets were consulted who revealed that Agamemnon was to blame because he had wronged Artemis, the goddess of the hunt—Greek myth vary about the exact nature of his crime but it was a serious one—and she demanded in atonement that he sacrifice his eldest daughter Iphigenia.
Only after that would she allow the winds to blow so that the ships could sail. At his wit's end and with thousands of troops sitting idly on the beach, Agamemnon had no choice but to trick his wife Clytemnestra into bringing the girl to Aulis. He claimed falsely that he'd arranged for Iphigenia to marry the greatest of the Greek warriors Achilles. Instead, when Iphigenia arrived, Agamemnon slew his daughter with his own hands on what was to be her wedding altar.