Every once in a while it’s a good idea to pick up an old classic that you haven’t read since high school and give it a chance to either impress or bore, as the case may be. Last week I borrowed my son’s Penguin Classics edition of “The Odyssey” because I figured that since it’s considered one of the greatest stories of the Western world and perhaps the original “thriller,” I ought to get to know it. It’s the 1946 E.V. Rieu translation, revised in 1991.
It exceeded my every expectation. To give a little background first: I read a lot of books, or rather I should say that I start to read a lot of books. Most of the novels and thrillers that I begin to read, often with high expectations, I abandon after the first fifty or one hundred pages. Generally it’s because the writing is annoying or the author has some distasteful agenda (more about that tomorrow) or I’m just bored. In the case of thrillers, many of them just seem phony or implausible or as if the author is trying way too hard to shock me.
“The Odyssey” has many archaic features. The endlessly repeated short descriptors attached to every character (“Dawn, fresh and rosy-fingered”) served a purpose when the story was recited by the eight-century BCE bard, but of course seem quaint today. But overall there is little to quibble about and much to admire and enjoy and learn. The structure of the story–we begin near the end of the hero’s 20-year journey, and travel forward to the bloody climax even as we learn about the past–is ingenious and works in perfect harmony with itself. The characters are vivid and we learn much about their daily habits (although I would like to know why there was so much “mixing” of wine before it was served). There are multiple plot lines, including, aside from the hero’s journey, the plot against his son Telemachus (will he become a man and defend his parents’ home?), Penelope’s decision to offer herself in marriage to one of the Suitors, and the backstage machinations of the various gods who either assist or hinder the mortals.
As a thriller “The Odyssey” has no equal, and I was on the edge of my seat for each of the 324 pages. “The Odyssey” is one of those books that you can carry around with you and open to any page and start reading, if only to savor the perfectly crafted sentences and enjoy the vivid yet economical prose.
