The Odyssey; Chapter 16
I have to admit I have a problem. I can’t stop buying books. My digital collection could put some libraries to shame, and the pile on my bedside table is growing to dangerous levels — sometimes I wonder if the cat might tip it on me in the middle of the night.
To my eternal shame, in this ridiculous collection there are books that have flown significant miles without even having their spines cracked. The greatest offender of which is the Odyssey by Homer.
Over the last eight years it has, countless times, been thrown into a suitcase with the intention of being read. From the heights of the Canadian Rockies to the grottos of Lourdes, from the warm waters of the Caribbean to the cold waters of the Scottish Highlands, a copy of the Odyssey has been with me.
In a twist of irony, my copy has done a grand odyssey of its own. During those long years I always intended to reach for it, but really, why bother? Everyone knows the stories. Odysseus gets lost at sea, meets Polyphemus and Circe, eats sacred cows and gets trapped with one of the most beautiful goddesses, who offers him immortality (woe is me, Odysseus).
Yet, by complete chance, only two weeks ago I finally cracked the spine of the Odyssey. What greeted me was one of the most captivating stories I have ever read. There is good reason why Goethe called the Odyssey and the Iliad “the two most important books in the world”.
The Odyssey stands tall as the progenitor of all novels and the hero’s journey. There are many moments that stand out to me, but none more keenly than Chapter 16.
I am not a person who really cries happy tears, but I have to admit this was one of the few times I did.
Twenty years on from his fateful drafting into the Trojan War, leaving his island home of Ithaca, Odysseus has returned to his homeland. Yet in his ever-cunning ways he is in disguise.
Odysseus is in the company of Eumaeus, the royal swineherder. He is learning about the fate of his kingdom in his absence.
In her ever-wise way Athena has directed Telemachus, son of Odysseus who was born shortly before the start of the Trojan war, to join their company.
Odysseus is now joined by his son — the son he has never known, a fine young prince he has become.
Odysseus can’t help but fall into his cunning ways and play a part in front of his son, but the time has come for him to reveal himself. He discards his magical disguise and reveals himself.
But Telemachus in many ways is still a young boy, racked with grief and doubt about his place in the world and the father he has lost, he can’t believe that it truly is his father.
Telemachus, son of Odysseus—that cunning hero—is shocked by this stranger in front of him. Terrified, he exclaims, “surely you are some god who rules the vaulting skies … spare us, please, I beg you!”.
Yet beyond his wildest dreams he stands there, staring at that father. After all these long years, he is in front of the great Odysseus.
But the Odysseus in front of him is not that fresh hero of legends.
Odysseus, despite the magical appearance Athena has bestowed upon him, is a man battered and bruised, aged by his many hardships. From seeing the glorious death of his comrades at war, to the humiliating death of his crew. Cursed by the gods, Odysseus has been marooned from his family, weeping for them day after day.
In that moment I can’t help but tear up for Odysseus. This valiant hero, the great sacker of cities, the great-grandson of Hermes, the godlike Odysseus, now an aged man after fighting — and winning — a war he never wanted, and serving a punishment no man deserves. He has met the man his son has become but he is forced to see his son prostrate himself as if he were a god.
He says to his long-missed son:
No, I am not a god,
Why confuse me with one who never dies?
No, I am your father —
The Odysseus you wept for all your days,
You bore a world of pain, the cruel abuse of men!
At this Odysseus kisses his son as tears stream down his cheeks and wet the ground beneath him. He lets his long-restrained emotions flow free, the pain of the last twenty years escaping him.
After leaving it sitting on my bookshelf, I feel ashamed to say that it took me so long to read what can only be described as a masterpiece.
I had thought I knew the Odyssey - the stories, the monsters, the glory. What I missed was that the Odyssey at it’s core is a fundamentally human story. It is the story of a hero’s journey, a coming of age story for Telemachus — it is the story of humanity, that weaves together perennial questions about the human condition, like free will, fate, justice, home, place, and the divine.
The book had sat unread for eight years but I am glad to have been wrong about it. I have already finished a second translation, with a few more already in progress.
If you haven’t read the Odyssey, I highly recommend you do yourself a favour and pick up a copy.