On the Odyssey

The Practical Polymath #90

Hi friends, 

Greetings from Brooklyn! 

If you’re new here, the Practical Polymath is a newsletter about seeking wisdom in the mundane. I used to publish it biweekly but I’m experimenting with a more sporadic pace. 

Until next time, 

Florian

---

On the Odyssey

When I was a kid, my dad used to tell me how he had to read the Odyssey and Iliad in ancient Greek back in school. He can still recite the first verses from memory. Perhaps for that reason, these books accidentally acquired a robe of mysticism that scared me away from reading them. 

But this year, I’ve decided to take Homer’s maritime tale down from its pedestal. No ancient Greek for me though, an English translation would have to do it. 

I am about half way into the book. I expected having to do some mental heavy lifting, waddling my way through arcane references and stumbling on complicated metaphors. 

Instead, my eyes are gliding through the minefield of drama that’s threatening to blow at every new chapter.  

Here are some first impressions. 

Translation matters.

I’ve always assumed only the high priesthood of literature fanatics could afford to be picky about the translation of a particular book. 

So without giving it too much thought, I started reading the Penguin Classics edition translated by Robert Fagles. 

But then I heard that back in 2017 a new English translation came out written by Emily Wilson, the first ever by a woman (read the New Yorker’s profile about her, she’s fascinating). 

I bought a copy and started over. 

These are the first verses of the book in both versions: 

Robert Fagles 

Sing to me of the man Muse, the man of twists and turns 

driven time and again off course, once he had plundered 

the hallowed heights of Troy. 

Many cities of men he saw and learned their minds, many pains he suffered, heartsick on the open sea, fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home.

Emily Wilson 

Tell me about a complicated man. 

Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost 

when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy, 

and where he went, and who he met, the pain

he suffered on the sea, and how he worked

to save his life and bring his men back home. 

Emily Wilson makes the text incredibly accessible without sacrificing its rhythmic power. I don’t have to stop and quickly Google “hallowed heights” or bother with a yoda-like sentence structure. The words just flow naturally and totally erase the 1,000 years that separate me from Homer. 

Which translation would you go for? 

Thank God(s) for the drama. 

Today’s God is hugely understaffed. In the Odyssey, you have a God in charge of every task humans need a hand with. Hopping for a safe boat ride? Better have Poseidon on your side. Lacking self-confidence and a sense of direction? Athena’s your go-to coach. Feeling a little stuck in your communication? Hermes can smooth it out for you.  

The downside of this hyper-specialized God crew is that they have a lot of time on their hands which means they are systematically interfering in the affairs of men. And not always in a good way. 

I came across a post that described Greek Gods as “a bunch of meddling dickheads” which, despite the historical dissonance, is a profoundly satisfying description.

I’m no believer but if I was, I would expect God to be a model of good behavior, mercy and compassion. The Odyssey comically shatters that image in favor of gods that are petty, vengeful, impulsive and borderline psychotic. And somehow they manage to be a delightful source of drama. 

🎨 Drawing Wisdom 

I’m a big fan of Ralph Ammer’s blog. He takes complicated philosophical works and turns them into plain-language pieces and turns the core ideas into animated drawings. I loved his latest post breaking down Aristotle’s take on how to live a good life. It’s the kind of writing that makes the ideas so obvious and easy to grasp and yet the process to get to that level of simplicity is a craft that likely requires hours of hard work. 

🎥 Movies of Yore

When I finished watching “My dinner with Andre”, the first thing I did was order the script. The entire movie is just one dinner conversation between two friends who haven’t seen each other in a long time. What I loved about it is how completely unhinged Andre’s stories are and how they raise fundamental questions about how to live. Does “aliveness” mean detaching oneself from habit or on the contrary does it require the ability to appreciate the little things? By the end of the movie, you might be left wondering whether you associate more with Wally or Andre.  

My Dinner with Andre (1981)

Lateral Thought 

“Quantity gives experience. From experience alone can quality come. 

All arts, big and small, are the elimination of waste motion in favor of the concise declaration. 

The artist learns what to leave out. 

The surgeon knows how to go directly to the source of the trouble, how to avoid wasted time and complications. 

The athlete learns how to conserve power and apply it now here, now there, how to utilize this muscle, rather than that.” 

Ray Bradbury