Christopher Nolan's THE ODYSSEY

[Jeff Bernstein]

"Christopher Nolan’s next film ‘The Odyssey’ is a mythic action epic shot across the world using brand new IMAX film technology. The film brings Homer’s foundational saga to IMAX film screens for the first time and opens in theaters everywhere on July 17, 2026."

— Universal Pictures (@UniversalPics) December 23, 2024

 

Cinematography.com can get a leg up on this wonderment with a free recent translation of The Odyssey from blacklisted Scrooby! Right here, friends!

 

https://archive.org/details/odyssey-of-homer-jsb

 

 

Edited December 24, 2024 by Jeff Bernstein

[Jeff Bernstein]

Book XXII

Odysseus sprang out of his rags, and landed
by the brightly shining door. Then, in one movement
he grabbed the quiver and spilled out the arrows
before him at his feet; and said to the nobles :

“This contest is at its end. Let us now see if
I hit another mark, which no man has yet done,
and take the victory destined me by Apollo.”

And as he spoke he strung the bow and aimed it tight
at Antinous, who was raising a glittering
two-handled cup of wine in his hands, so he might
drink; and his own death was the last thing on his mind.
But who there would have expected that one man might,
no matter his strength, bring death and fate to the many?
The arrow of Odysseus ripped through the throat
of Antinous, and its bloody bronze tip stuck out
through the back of his neck. His eyes flared as he dropped
his cup, and his spurting blood sprayed over the fine
food and drink on the table. He kicked out wildly,
overturning the table, spilling to the floor
all the bread and roast meats that the house-servants
had brought him. And with a wondrous groan he fell
onto the food while his life-blood spilled from his
nose and mouth. And a cry filled the air as the men
saw him fall; and they sprang from their couches and chairs,
and in a panic looked this way and that along
the walls, but they saw no shields or spears anywhere
to grab hold of. And enraged at Odysseus
they shouted terrible words at him, saying :

“Stranger! What is this evil that you do? Shooting
at men? You cut down the best of us in cold blood!
Ithaca knew no better man! Now we shall leave
you for the vultures to eat!”

This they said, thinking the old stranger had cut down
the man in idiotic error : but it was
their own error they did not yet understand :
they had no thought that destruction had come for them;
and there would be no escape.

Thus with grave eyes Odysseus glared at them
and spoke :

“Rotten dogs! Didn’t cross your mind I might return
from Troy? You’ve eaten away my house. You’ve forced
my maids to lie with you. You tried to take my wife
away from me. You fear no god, no man, nor justice.
Now death has come—and you won’t be coming back.”

So he spoke, and the nobles turned pale with fear.
Each man looked sharply round, seeking escape.

And Eurymachus alone spoke :

“You say you’re Ithacan Odysseus come home.
If what you say is true, then this other word of yours
is true, too. The Achaeans have done terrible
things in your halls and fields. But there lies the cause
of it all! Antinous. He brought us to where we stand.
He didn’t want to marry your wife;—he had something
else in mind, which the god of Time didn’t allow.
He came to Ithaca to be king, to take
the goodly land for himself, from your goodly son.
He planned to ambush and murder Telemachus!

But now he’s dead. Now will you drop your hand
from your countrymen? and be merciful?
We will make good everything we owe. We’ll go
and gather what wealth we have and pay you
all that’s been drunk and eaten in your house.
Each man here will bring you twenty oxen.
And bronze : and gold : until your heart is warmed.
But till then no one would wonder at your upset.”

And with grave eyes Odysseus glared at him
and spoke :

“Eurymachus, go gather what wealth you have,
and add to that whatever from wherever :
but these hands you see are going to kill you.
Then you will have made good your debt. Now decide :
to fight, or to run. But there is nowhere to run.”

He said this and their knees weakened. And each man’s heart
whirled in euphoric fear and terror, at the sight
of Odysseus standing in the brightly shining doorway.

And Eurymachus spoke out a second time :

“Friends! This man will not hold back! He will stand there
and string the arrows until all of us are dead!
So come! We fight! Draw your swords! Lift up the tables
and hold them against the arrows! We’ll rush him
together!”

And Eurymachus drew his sword. It caught the light,
his two-edged bronze with sharp tip. And shrieking
with a battle-cry he sprang at Odysseus,
who let fly, and the arrow slit through to his liver.
Eurymachus dropped his sword and fell sprawling
among tables, all doubled up and screaming.
He thrashed in the food and spilled cups, his head
hammering the floor; and his wild-kicking feet
knocked away chairs as he suffered agony
at heart. And then his eyes went down into darkness.

And Amphinomus rushed at Odysseus
with drawn sword, ready to cut him away
from the brightly shining threshold, so he
might run to the city with a cry of alarm
before the killer had shot his last arrow.
But Telemachus caught him from behind,
driving a bronze-pointed spear through his shoulder-
blades and out through his chest. The dead man fell
hard on the floor : his head hit the marble and cracked.
And quick-thinking Telemachus had to decide
whether to yank out the bloody spear or leave it
where it stuck : and so he sprung away from the dead
Amphinomus. The quick-thinker knew if he lowered
his eyes to the spear someone might run
a sword through him, or tackle him down to the corpse.
So he ran to his father in the brightly shining light,
and came to stand by him, and spoke with winged words :

“Father! I’ll go get the bronze for the four of us!
Isn’t it better for us to be in armour?”

And Odysseus answered :  

“Bring it all while I still have arrows.”

And said no more. So Telemachus obeyed him.
He left his father’s side, ran down to the store-room,
and uncovered the glittering armour, everything
of bronze : four shields, eight spears, and four helmets
plumed with horse-hair. Swiftly he carried it all back
to his father, and bound himself up in the bronze.

And the two slaves put on their bright armour as well,
Eumaeus and Philoetius, who came to stand
by warrior Odysseus, the brilliant one.

Now Odysseus kept stringing arrows as long
as the arrows held out, aiming sure and picking
off the filth one by one, piling the nobles
into a bloody heap of dead stares and limp limbs.

When his last arrow left him, he set down the bow,
leaning it upright on the brightly shining door.
Then he lifted up his heavy shield and buckled it
around his shoulders, to keep his hands and arms free,
a shield reinforced by four layers of ox-hide :
and he put his helmet on, with its horsetail plume
of colours shimmering menacingly over
his piercing glare. And he took up two bronze-tipped spears.

And Telemachus looked on in wonder while
the palm of his father’s hand slipped along a wall
and found a hidden seam, and pressed it, and a door
swung open, revealing a passage into darkness.
Odysseus sent his son and his two warriors
through, then sealed and secured the door behind him.

And in the sudden lull, the nobles left alive
looked breathless at the mutilation around them.

Then Agelaus spoke out for all to hear :

“Friends, does anyone have any idea
where that door leads to? Someone has to get out-
side and cry for help! Then we’ll be done with that man!”

And the goatherd Melanthius answered him :     

“Agelaus, Zeus-born, I say that passage may lead
into a corridor, giving them a way to some
other building of the palace. But I have a thought,
and if I’m right I’ll bring you to the very place
where we’ll find armour and weapons that Odysseus
and his suddenly powerful son have hidden.”

So the goatherd Melanthius went his way
down to the store-rooms of Odysseus.
There he found the glittering bronze, and he eagerly
brought back many shields and spears and helmets
for the noble worthies; and then went back for more.

And Odysseus was in no other building
of the palace, but looking down on the nobles
from a hidden vantage : and he didn’t like the sight
of all of them arming themselves for battle,
and lifting their razor-sharp bronze-tipped spears.
All this was going to be harder than he thought.

And Odysseus said to his son :

“Telemachus, someone in the house has betrayed us;
they found the armour. Now we face heavier work.”

So Telemachus spoke out :

“Eumaeus, go now to the underground store-room
and bolt the door shut. And maybe you’ll see
which house-servant is giving them the bronze.
But I think I know who it is : Melanthius.”

Meanwhile, Melanthius was moving between
the store-room and the vast hall with armour in hand,
and the swineherd saw. So he bolted the door shut,
then returned to them, and spoke to Odysseus :

“Zeus-born son of Laertes, invincible Odysseus!
I saw the goatherd with the armour in his hands,
coming from the store-room. Tell me, master, may I
kill him? And teach him my superiority?
Or shall I drag him here for you? So he can pay
for the many crimes he conspired in your house.”

And Odysseus πολύμητις answered him :

“Telemachus and I will hold the noble scum
within the hall. They’ll learn how strong they really are.
Now you two hear what to do with Melanthius :
You bend his hands and feet behind his back
and tie the four of them together with a cord.
Then you throw him in the store-room and bolt the door
behind you. Inside, you’ll see a hook fitted high up
in one of the rafters. You two will find a rope
and hoist that miserable bundle up
to the ceiling. There let him stay, nice and alive,
to suffer agony for a long time to come.”

And the two men heard and obeyed. Slow and quiet,
they stepped to the store-room door, one man on either
side, and, unnoticed where they stood, they listened
to the sounds from within. Meanwhile, inside the room,
goatherd Melanthius uncovered more armour
in a dim, dusty corner. It was a shield worn
down from age, eroded by rust, and the stitching
of its leather straps had long ago come undone.
In his faraway youth, warrior Laertes
had lifted this shield, many a time in practice
and in battle. So Melanthius happily
took up the shield, and grabbed a helmet from nearby,
and with them walked through the store-room to the doorway.
There the two men grabbed him, tackled him to the ground,
and dragged him by the hair back into the store-room.
All the while Melanthius could barely breathe
from terror. Sprawled out on the floor he screamed
out as his hands and feet were bent behind his back
and tied together tightly with a cord. The two
men had bundled up Melanthius, just as the son
of Laertes had ordered : the much-enduring,
godlike Odysseus. Then they tied a strong rope
round his body and hoisted him up alongside
a tall pillar until he hung from the ceiling
of the room.

And looking up over his head amused,
swineherd Eumaeus spoke out aloud :

“Now all night long, Melanthius, lie there
on the soft bed you deserve! No early-born,
rosy-fingered Dawn for you! You won’t see her coming
to her golden throne, when you should be leading
your she-goats to prepare for feasting at the house.”

They left him there dangling painfully, all tied up.
The two men put their armour back on; then they closed
the door and took all the light of the room with them.

And they returned to warrior Odysseus,
the ever-calculating, ever-foxy one.

So then Odysseus threw open a window,
revealing themselves and their hidden vantage.
Together the four men, breathing vengeance,
looked down on the men in the hall, who were many
in number, and armed with weapons, and looking up
at them with wonder and fear and anger and rage.

And then from around the corner came Athena,
in the shape and voice of an old friend to father
and son : Mentor. The old man had agreed
to keep watch over the house while Odysseus
was away with the ships, and keep things firmly footed.     

But the father smiled. He knew who it really was,
and he said :

“Mentor, help us obliterate them. Remember
your old friend, who has done so much in your honour.
And of the same age we’ve grown in time together.”

Thus he spoke to Athena the Encourager.

Meanwhile, the nobles down below in the hall
were shouting and pointing up at Odysseus.

And noble worthy Agelaus called up to them :

“Mentor!” he cried, “don’t let his sly words fool you
to his side! Why fight us for his sake? Why help him?
I’m sure there’s only one outcome left to us here :
after we kill father and son, we’re killing you!
For what you plan to do, you will pay with your head!
After we have taken your life with the bronze blade,
we will take everything you own, inside and out,
and toss it all in with Odysseus’ wealth!
We’ll deny your sons and daughters to live in your halls!
And your fine wife will be kicked out of the city!”

So spoke Agelaus to shining-eyed Athena.

Now the goddess both smiled and raged at heart.
And no effort was needed to fool the filth below :
she simply spoke out angrily at Odysseus,
for all to hear :

“Odysseus! I don’t see any more of that strength
you had when you fought the Trojans for nine years,
for the sake of beautiful Helen, daughter of
nobility! Your days of brutally killing men
in relentless combat are over! Yes, it was
your bright idea that finally gave us Priam’s
lofty city, which we pulverized to dust :
but perhaps that was your last! Why are you standing
up here, now that you are home, and among your own?
Do you sigh when you take in the sight of those men,
a number requiring the effort of the old days?”

Then the goddess whispered to Odysseus :

“Come now, friend! Stand by me and watch what I shall do.
Mentor shall thank you for your service to the people.
And your enemies will feel this kindness repaid.”

And she stepped away into a swallow and flew
up to the rafters and looked down on them
from the shadows. She didn’t yet end the battle,
so that she might show off the strength and courage
of Odysseus and his honourable son.     

Meanwhile, Agelaus looked over the nobles
in the hall. The best of them were Eurynomus
and Amphimedon and Demoptolemus
and Peisander and Polybus. These were the best
men left; the greatest of all of them now lay dead
at their feet, brought down by a shower of arrows.

Then Agelaus spoke out for all to hear :  

“Friends! Now we must cut his hands dead! Now that Mentor’s
done with his big joke and gone off! There are only
four of them! They stand there in plain view, mocking us!
Raise up your long spears—but not everyone throw
at once! Six will throw. Let us hope the gods give us
victory. All you six aim at Odysseus.
The others will be no worry once he lies dead.”

So he spoke, and all six sent their spears flying up
to invincible Odysseus as ordered,
but Athena let all six fly to no purpose.
One bronze tip hit a pillar of the well-built hall,
another fragmented the open window pane,
another ashen spear hit the wall and fell away.

After all the heroic spears went awry,
much-enduring Odysseus said to his men :

“Friends, it’s time to spike that herd of pigs. They’re eager
to kill us all. Stripping my house bare wasn’t enough for them.”

He said this, and the four of them lifted their bronze-
tipped spears, aimed, and let fly : Odysseus’ fixed
Demoptolemus to the floor, where he bled out
and died. Telemachus’ pierced Euryades’ heart.
Eumaeus’ sent Elatus to the underworld;
and cattleman Philoetius killed Peisander.

So those nobles ground their teeth into death,
but the others still living retreated in terror
to a far corner of the hall. Odysseus
and his men, meanwhile, jumped down from above
and plucked out the spears from the bodies of the dead.

Again the noblemen sent the bronze spears flying,
again Athena sent the shower of them awry.
One man hit that same pillar of the well-built hall :
one spear shattered against a well-bolted door :
another ashen spear hit the wall and fell away.

But, as Zeus told us way back at the origin,
there are “irregularities not foreseen by
destiny”—so a spear hit Telemachus.
The bronze tip sliced his hand open at the wrist
and flew on and away, leaving a bloody wound.

And Ctesippus’ spear flew at swineherd Eumaeus :
As its point pierced his shoulder he knocked it away
with his shield, and glanced at his bleeding wound :
and behind him the bloody-tipped spear hit the floor.

Again Odysseus and his men aimed their spears
and let fly into the crowd of Evil :
hapless Eurydamas felt Odysseus’ enter
his brain, a gift from the destroyer of cities.

Unconquerable Telemachus eliminated
Amphimedon : and Eumaeus executed
Polybus : and cowherd Philoetius replied
to Ctesippus with a spear through his chest,
then stood over him, putting his feet by his head,
and :

“Son of someone-or-other,” he said, exultant,
“You love big talk—here’s some large enough for you.
How does it sound? Do you hear the word of the gods?
You invited your own everlasting punishment.
How smart is that?”

And as he spoke, he pushed the spear deeper into
the dying one’s chest, and spoke one more word :

“This repays the hoof you threw at Odysseus.
How about that? The last word you hear : Odysseus.”

So said the herdsman of the twist-horned cattle.
And Ctesippus closed his eyes, and died. And his spirit
went underground to the growing world of the dead,

where Odysseus, matched in close combat with clashing
spears, sent Agelaus, when the sharp bronze tip sank
into the heart of the son of Damastor :

while Telemachus speared Leiocritus
under the ribs, its bloody tip driving into
soft flesh and breaking out the back of his body.
The dead man fell face-first towards the marble floor,
and the long spear’s handle propped the victim up,
so his body slid down the upright ashen spear
and slowly came to rest at the bottom,
the tip of his cold nose touching the marble.

And now from high above, the goddess Athena
revealed her αἰγίς, her shining shield that caught the light
and sent back beams like solid columns down in all
directions round the heads of the men beneath her,
as if a bright sun had just broken through a cloud.
The many-coloured figure carven on the face
of it is too terrible to put into words,
and the men looking up were terrified to see it.
They fled away through the hall like a herd of cattle
flustered by the lively gadfly that comes to sting
them in the springtime when the long days come.
And just as vultures swoop down from the mountains
with sharp beaks and jagged claws, and break through cloud
to pounce on baby birds shivering in their nests,
who have no defence or hope of flight, and tear them
apart, and men who see this cheer at the fever
of the chase : just so our heroes rushed at the men,
and struck them down every which way they ran.
This way and that the sorry nobles fell to the floor;
and one after another got his head bashed in.
And a gloomy moaning rose up to fill the hall,
the groans of the dying mingling in the air:
and the floor ran with blood.
    
Then : Leiodes’ bare feet splashed through the blood
as he scrambled up in terror to Odysseus.
He dropped to the floor; and in a puddle of blood
he embraced the knees of the invincible man,
and said :

“Please, Odysseus, have pity for me! Please let me
live! Hear me as I say, with Zeus as my witness :
I put no hand to any woman in this house
at any time, nor did I ever speak out shamefully    
to them. Odysseus, over and over again
I implored those people to stop, to hear me
and stay their hands from evil. But they did not
listen to me; and their wickedness has brought them
to this end. Odysseus, I was their prophet!
I have done you no wrong.—I need not lie with them!
That would be no fit reward you give me for meaning well.”

And with grave eyes Odysseus glared at him
and spoke :

“If you call yourself the prophet of these dead men,
many times your prayers in this house took away,
until now, this sweet return. In between your visions,
were you hoping to marry my wife, and have her
bear your children? Now let Zeus be my witness, too.”

And Odysseus all the while held a sword
in his strong grip. It was Agelaus’, fallen
from his hand when he died. Now Odysseus raised
the sword and swiped it through his victim’s neck :
and the head of Leiodes rolled away, still mouthing words.

At the same time, standing on the far side
of the red desolation of bodies and blood,
the son of Terpes (whose name derives from “delight”
and “good cheer”), looking this way and that for escape,
was the poet Phemius himself. He might meet
a bleak death, all because those people had forced him
to stand and strum his lyre that sings as birds do.

So Phemius contemplated the wall
with the hidden passage, and was in doubt
between two resolves. Should he try to get
out into the courtyard, and sit by the altar
of Zeus, where both Laertes and Odysseus
had burned many thigh-pieces of oxen?
Or should he go to Odysseus, and grab
his knees in prayer? He wondered :
and the following seemed better to him :

He restored a table to its standing position
and gently placed his shining lyre on it.
Then he went to Odysseus and grasped
his knees in prayer. And he said :

“I embrace you, Odysseus! Hear me,
and show mercy! You’ll regret it later
if you kill me—I’m a poet!
I’m self-taught, and I sing tales of gods and men.
God has planted all kinds of songs in my spirit!
And I will sing before you as before a god!
So do not be so quick to cut my throat.
Your own beloved Telemachus will say
I was forced to come to your house, and only
reluctantly did I sing to those people
during their feasts. They were many, and strong,
and they forced me here protestingly!”

So he spoke, and the brilliant, powerful
Telemachus called out :

“Father, hold back! Do not strike that innocent man!”

And Odysseus lowered his sharp sword.

And his son continued, saying :

“And Medon, too, our minister of the house!
He has cared for me since I was a boy;—
unless Philoetius or Eumaeus killed him
already—or he met you as you ravaged the hall.”

“Here I am!” came a voice from under an ox-hide
hidden beneath a chair. Medon came out from under,
and flung away the freshly peeled-off skin,
and stood up. Then he slid along the bloody floor
down to Telemachus, and grasped his knees,
and spoke with winged words :

“Dear, dear friend! Tell your father to hold his hand from
cutting my head off! He might not notice while
exulting in his power, and chop me up with the bronze!
Tell him I’m not one of those people who showed you
no honour!”

And Odysseus πολύμητις smiled, and said :

“My son has saved your life. Be happy. Now go tell
others of this, so they’ll know kindness is far
stronger than evil. But for the moment just sit
out in the courtyard with the poet of many songs
until I have finished my work here in the house.”

Thus spoke Odysseus. And the two men cleaved
through the blood and found a way to the court,
and sat by the altar to Zeus μέγας .
The two men sat uneasy, looking all round them,
waiting for death to leap out at any moment.

Inside the house Odysseus prowled quietly,
looking for any men still breathing, or hiding
out in useless hope of avoiding a bleak fate.
But everyone was dead.

It brought to mind a school of fish netted up
out of the dark-teeming sea and spilled out
onto the shore : there on the sands they yearn
for the salt water waves,
but fiery Helios burns their life away.

Just like that the mnesteressin were heaped up.

And Odysseus spoke to his son :

“Telemachus, summon the nurse Eurycleia.
There’s a question I would have her answer.”

And Telemachus heard and obeyed. He pounded
on a door with his fist, calling for the old woman
who watched over all the women in the household :

“Come out,” he said. “Old woman, my father wants you!”

So he spoke, and she kept her reply to herself
as she unbolted the doors of the vast
and opulent hall. And Telemachus smiled
at her kindly, and moved aside, and she came in
to see Odysseus standing in a bloody sea
of corpses, his body sodden with blood and gore,
like a lion returning from tearing an ox
apart in the fields, and his breast and jaws are soaked
in blood : just so did Odysseus stand covered
in blood, his feet and hands and all else : and she saw
the unspeakable sight of the dead : and she cried out
in relief and came forward : but Odysseus
raised a hand to stop her, and said :

“Come now! Tell me which women dishonoured the house.”

And honest nurse Eurycleia answered him :  

“Here’s the truth, child. We have fifty women here,
whom we’ve taught to card the wool and all kinds of work,
and most get on with their work. I say there are twelve
in all who have gone the way of unforgivingness.
They listen neither to me nor to Penelope.
They don’t listen to Telemachus. (His mother
thought him too young to supervise them anyway.)
But come now! Let me go up to the bedchambers
and bring word to your wife, who’s in god-given sleep.”

And Odysseus answered her :

“Don’t wake her just yet. Bring me the guilty women.”

So Eurycleia walked through the halls with the news :
the twelve women were to gather themselves and come.

And Odysseus spoke : to Telemachus : to Eumaeus
the swineherd : to Philoetius the cattleman : and he said :

“Carry the bodies out and order the women
to help. Then sponge clean the chairs and tables.
When all is back in order, lead the maidservants
out and away from our comfortable hall,
to the place between the θόλος and the wall
of the courtyard, and kill them. Use your fine-edged swords.
Make it a slow death for all those who conspire
against this house.”

Thus spoke Odysseus.

And then the women came in, weeping and wailing.
First the carried the heavy dead out of the hall,
and heaped up the bodies on a colonnaded
lawn to one side of the courtyard. Odysseus
ordered them round and urged them to hurry it up;
and they were forced to carry the heavy bodies
of the dead. When this tiresome task was done,
Odysseus gave them another one :
they cleaned to a sparkle the fine chairs and tables
and floor, using water and thick sponges.
And when the vast hall glittered again, and all stood
in its proper place, then the women were led outside.

Now there was a narrow lawn between the θόλος
and the wall of the courtyard : so Philoetius
and Eumaeus guarded one end : at the other
Telemachus stood with drawn sword : and huddled between
the furious men were the twelve teary-eyed women.

And Telemachus deliberated, then considered
the θόλος : a round, squat building with pillars all
round supporting its dome. Then he lowered his sword,
and spoke to the men :

“These women shall die no easy death. They poured down
onto my head evil words ever since I was a child.
And all these years my mother suffered identical abuse
from them. And then they went and slept with those people.”

So said Telemachus, who went for some cable,
the kind used as stern-cable for a dark-prowed ship,
and roped it up and around the domed building,
just high enough so that the dangling women’s feet
would not touch ground. And just as wide-winged thrushes,
or doves, seeking rest in thicket or bush, fly into
a net, and hateful is the bed that welcomes them :
so each woman, one by one, felt the noose tighten
round her neck, and felt the most miserable death.     
They struggled and gasped for a bit, but not too long.

Then they led Melanthius out the door and
past the courtyard. And cut off his nose and two ears
with the cold bronze, and sliced off his testicles
to feed them raw to Eumaeus’ dogs,
who would divide the wealth among themselves :
just so overcome with fury were the four men.

Then they washed their hands and feet with water.
Then went back inside the palace of Odysseus.
And their work was done.

Meanwhile, during all that, Odysseus scoured
clean with powdered sulphur all trace of the evil
in hall and house and courtyard. And he was now dressed
in cloak and tunic, for Eurycleia had said :

“Come now! You can’t go around here like that!
Cover yourself! As it is, you might cause a stir.”

So Odysseus in cloak and tunic removed
the pollution of those pests for all time.
Then he asked of Eurycleia to tell his wife
to come from her bedchamber with her maids,
and requested that all the house women come too.

And he said :

“But first let a fire be lit in the hall.”

And Eurycleia heard and obeyed. She went through
the house with the news and asked all to come :
and many women came from the chambers
with fiery torches in their hands, and entered
the hall, and saw their master. They crowded round him
and received him with great joy, kissing and caressing
his head and shoulders. And a sweet feeling calmed him,
and he came close to sighs and tears : for in his heart
he remembered them all.
    

End of Book XXII

 

[Jeff Bernstein]

GROUNDBREAKING SCROOBY THEORY

 

Scroob has a mind-shattering notion that Christopher Nolan wants the world audience to know everything there is to know about Homer's Odyssey, or . . . Universal wouldn't have released the title. ¶ The more we know of the source material, and therefore the more prepared we are for the spectacle we are about to experience (on July 17, 2026), that little bit quicker the storyteller can swoop through the story. ¶ This present Odyssean Situation accords with storyteller Nolan repeatedly, and heroically, giving the audience the benefit of the doubt throughout The Oppenheimer (2023) phenomenon.

 

[Karim D. Ghantous]

I can't say I'm that enthusiastic about this project, but hey, I might be pleasantly surprised.

Jeff, it seems that you are a fan of the classics. You quoted a not uninteresting passage from the Odyssey. Tell me, why are the words πολύμητις and θόλος not translated?

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Karim D. Ghantous]

You're breaking my balls here, Jeff.

 

[Jeff Bernstein]

Okay. πολύμητις within the next twelve months. Now friendly Scrooby relays to the world the following critical point :

If you're not interested in Homer you're not interested in Storytelling.

[Jeff Bernstein]

Epic . . . Epic . . .

 

First and foremost and fundamentally, the Odyssey is a family drama.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

Tyler Shields, Odysseus and the Sirens, 2015

[Jeff Bernstein]

THE ODYSSEY : a general fact from friendly Scrooby

 

A translator of Homer has to solve problems on every page. Please consider Book 22—Scrooby preferred to remain as faithful to the original text as possible, yet was forced to apply imagination relentlessly simply to make the story work in even the most fundamental of ways. At times Homer is gibberish, because the text has deteriorated down through the years through defective transmission. Worse, everyone and his brother seems to have vandalised the lines, adding this and that and removing who knows what. Entire chapters, notably in the Iliad, seem to have been put through a blender. “Everyone and his brother” has a technical term in this instance—the Interpolator. But please don’t think of this entity as singular, my friend, but as a collective noun.

 

Good Reader, please consider the following thought well. If the texts of Homer as we know them are vandalised outrageously, why, then, must a translator remain faithful to the text, even to the slightest degree?

 

All of which means :

 

Christopher Nolan will apply his imagination in such a way that he must improve on Homer.

[Stephen Perera]

I'm reading THE ILLIAD as we speak...I'm really enjoying it.....next up will be THE ODYSSEY

BTW the Troy film was quite faithful to Homer's The Illiad. I really rate it highly.

The director took the decision to do away with the 'intervention' of the 'Gods' we read in the book e.g. when Paris (Orlando Bloom) is saved from death by the goddess Aphrodite when he is fighting Menelaus over Helen of Troy.....then of course the film gives us the impression it was a much shorter set of battles not the 10 year long siege war it was.....but it got all the relationships nicely, aside from the Achilles / Patroclus relationship which has been debated for centuries. In the film he is his 'cousin' - some say his 'romantic partner'.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[ Memory of a dreamlike future  Photograph Aliette Bretel United Kingdom 2017 ] 

[Stephen Perera]

https://www.worldofreel.com/blog/2025/2/11/c8vo4k8o0dxaa4w3xl407p2chj24iq

An article on the film...

[Jeff Bernstein]

The Cyclops Sequence as Revelatory of Character

 

Thanks for this, friend Stephen! Lighthearted spoiler-free text follows. The Cyclops sequence in Homer has spectacular suspense and atmosphere and bloody action and terror, and it all reveals so much about Odysseus' character. The wondrous strength that Odysseus must maintain over a number of hours in order for his escape from the Cyclops to work is unforgettable, and demonstrates that this one man is equivalent to the entire collective power of the Philadelphia Eagles. But Odysseus is no superhero. His strength is the product of a red-blooded man's mental toughness and imperishable will. 

 

However, since Odysseus is human, um, sometimes he can't keep his mouth shut, though it would be easy to him to do so. But don't we all get worked up sometimes when fist-bumping Destiny? The character of Odysseus is no sentimental myth; he is a well-rounded man.

 

Good news for the heroic Donna Langley : It's no stretch to predict that if Nolan is humanist Nolan (eg, Dunkirk), The Odyssey will easily be a billion-dollar triumph.

 

Why? Because Homer has dropped into Nolan's lap some of the finest characters ever written. How do we know this? Because our European history has preserved this epic (and the Iliad).

 

*

 

Storyteller Nolan is not sleeping on the job. His powers of storytelling are refining themselves before our very eyes. And not simply because Nolan is still learning, as we all are, but because he still wants to learn. So then. After storyteller Nolan travels through the stargate of The Odyssey (and hopefully the Iliad, the most powerful literary Stargate there is), his future might indeed reveal to us original writing that wins him a Nobel Prize. 

 

*

 

And who didn't think that Nolan would go the Roy Harryhausen route? Scrooby thinks back to childhood and Creature Double Feature every Saturday afternoon on channel 56 Boston.

 

[Jeff Bernstein]

Remembering Stan Winston

James Cameron. I can count on one hand the people who have really made a difference to me in my life as a filmmaker. These are the ones who, in addition to becoming lifelong friends, have also inspired, mentored, partnered and challenged. Stan Winston is one of these.

 

Winston. Jim had seen what we could do with puppets on Terminator, and so it made perfect sense that he thought of puppeteering techniques when he needed a way to realize the alien queen [for Aliens (1986)]. But, even so, it was a huge leap of faith to believe that we could build a fourteen-foot-tall, acting puppet.

 

Jody Duncan, The Winston Effect : The Art and History of the Stan Winston Studio (London : Titan Books, 2006), 6, 54, 79.

[Jeff Bernstein]

1977 : "Filmed among the islands and cities of ancient Greece."

[Jeff Bernstein]

Margaret R. Scherer, The Legends of Troy in Art and Literature (New York and London : The Phaidon Press, 1963), 148.

Tiepolo, Scene from the Iliad, 1757

[Stephen Perera]

Release date already too:]

[Jeff Bernstein]

[Jeff Bernstein]

Scrooby editorializing. Matt Damon is eminently suited for Odysseus because Odysseus is an everyman, a good soldier, a member of the establishment, and not a leader in the sense of, say, anyone on the old-time Beverly Hills dinner circuit. In fact, 'heroic' Odysseus did his best to try to blarney his way out of serving in the Trojan War in the first place. Story goes, a delegation led by Agamemnon arrived at island Ithaca to bring Odysseus with them onward to war at Troy; but quick-thinking Odysseus acted insane (and therefore unfit for duty) by plowing his field in a chaotic fashion, demonstrating before everyone's eyes that he was unable to handle formations and straight lines and orders. But one young man among the delegation, Palamedes, eventually the first to fall at Troy, had the smart idea to put the baby son before the father's plow; and as Odysseus was in fact not insane, he stopped his funny business, saved Telemachus, and, alas, went off to battle; and served as an indispensable member of the Greek army. His well-spoken intelligence is the stuff of legend (for this, see, for example, Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, 1.3; and Ovid, μεταμορφώσεις, 13).

*

Come to think of it, Scrooby translated the Ovid some time ago. Ajax and Odysseus are squaring off in debate for the prize of the arms of Achilles :

 

Book 13

The leaders convened, while the others established a ring
around them. Rising up, with his seven-layered shield in hand,
was Ajax. Insensibly angry, he kept his frosty eyes
fixed on the shoreline, then on the fleet; then raised his arms to say :
“I plead my case under the eyes of Zeus and before my ships—
and the man I face is Odysseus! That man leapt away
from fiery Hector quickly, while I stood firm before him!
It was I who drove Hector away from our ships! But it’s all
too safer to fight with lies than with hands. But Ajax is slow
with words—just as he’s slow to fight. But I’m as strong on the front
line of war as he is strong in speech!

Greeks, we have no reason to remember my deeds done for you,
for you all saw them. But will Odysseus enlighten us
on any of his? What he says he did no one saw, under
cover of night!
                 
                           I plead for a mighty prize, I acknowledge that;
but the honour of fighting for it has been taken away,
for it’s no pleasure to win something—however mighty—
that Odysseus had wanted. Anyway he’s already
won something worthy : when defeated, he can boast that he fought me.

“And if my virtue on the battlefield is doubted by any,
well then, my birth alone excels him in nobility! My
father was Telamon, an Argonaut, who with Heracles
tore down the walls of Troy, then sailed the Pagasaean ship
to Colchis. Telamon’s father was Aeacus, now dwelling
sombre by the sullen Styx, where Aeoliden Sisyphus
pushes his heavy stone. Zeus Highest avows my grandfather
Aeacus for his son. This makes Ajax third in line from Zeus!

But no Argive allow my lineage to improve my plea
unless I share it with the mighty Achilles. He was my
cousin—I seek only what is mine! Why are you, similar
to Sisyphus in your sneakiness and trickiness, trying
to attach the house of Aeacus to an unrelated name?

Perhaps because I came first to fight, with no funny business,
that the arms of fallen Achilles are denied me? But this
man faked madness, and arrived last! If his deception had worked,
he wouldn’t be here at all!—yet you still think him worthy of these?
Unfortunate for him that Palamedes, son of Nauplius,
was smarter than he is, and exposed his silly trickery
for what it was—a way to escape military service!
So now he shall be given the best because he wanted none?
And I, denied my cousin’s gifts because I came first to fight?

If only his madness was real, or not investigated
—then he wouldn’t have come to fight the city of Troy with us,
 this teacher of crime! Because of him our Achaean hero
Philoctetes rots away alone on the island Lemnos!
Remember? Sheltered in caves within the forests, his moaning
echoing between the rocks, his abandonment is a shame
to us all!—And to whom are all these moans directed but to him,
Odysseus, he who deserves such reproach! If gods exist,
you, Philoctetes, do not call out for help in vain! He who
came here to fight with us, one of the best of our warriors
—ah, gods!—how monstrously he’s been treated! This hero who wields
the bow once raised by massive Heracles, the bow that took down
many of our enemies;—He, one of our greatest heroes,
now broken in spirit, broken in body, weak with hunger,
has to clothe himself in feathers that fall from birds;—and he aims
at those birds the arrows that should be killing our enemy!
But he lives yet—because he’s far away from Odysseus!
What of unhappy Palamedes? Would he, too, have chosen
to stay behind, if he’d known the treachery awaiting him
from Odysseus, here on the Scamander plain? It was he,
Palamedes, who exposed the fake madness of this “hero”;
and in response—after waiting for the right moment to strike—
Odysseus accused Palamedes of treason, then all
of you found in his tent—how conveniently!—the stolen gold
that Odysseus put there! This man will get you exiled,
or he will get you dead! Either way, he’s weakening us all!
This is how the great Odysseus fights, and he must be feared!

Even if he outdoes ingenious Nestor in speech, this man
shall never persuade me that deserting Nestor in combat
was anything but a crime! When he implored Odysseus,
slow as he was from his horse’s wound, and weary with old age,
his fellow warrior ignored him. That this charge is not false,
Diomedes knows very well, for he kept shouting to him
with mockery for his fear, and for abandoning his mate!
But the gods smile upon the honour of Argive heroes!
And now look! He who offered no help is now in need of it!
He who left a fighter behind is now himself to be left!
Odysseus has taught us this rule that he, too, must follow!
During the fight he cried for his friends and it was I who came.
I saw him trembling, pale with fear, terrified of death.
I lowered my shield, gave him a cover, and saved his poor life—
not a big triumph? (If you continue to fight me on this,
let us return to that spot on the field! Bring back the enemy,
your wound, and your same old cowardice—let’s hide behind my shield
and face off under it, you and I!) But, after I saved his life,
after he looked unable to stand up because of his wound,
suddenly he scampered off quickly as if he had no wound!

Hector comes, bringing the gods with him into war. He didn’t
make you tremble alone, Odysseus, but all our fighters;
the man rouses terror in the strongest! But while Hector
gloried in the blood of his advance, I (the better man) tossed
a boulder from a spear-length away and put him on the ground!
And when he challenged us to hand-to-hand combat, who went forth
to meet him, but me? Argives, you put your hope in destiny,
drew lots, and it was my strength that answered your prayers! (If you
ask the outcome of our combat, no one here can say I lost.)
And then? The Trojans attacked our ships with iron and fire
and Zeus; and where did smooth-tongued Odysseus disappear to?
Everyone knows it was I who saved our thousand ships, our hope
of return! It was Ajax who put his breastplate toward the enemy!
I have earned these arms of Achilles! Let’s be serious here!
This armour will become all the more famous for my glory!
The arms want Ajax, not Ajax the arms!

Do the feats of Odysseus compare with these feats of mine?
Consider his Rhesus, his weakling Dolon, the son of Priam
Helenus whom he kidnapped, and the statue of Athena
he stole—the Palladium. None of this was done in daylight!
And all were done with Diomedes! If you would give the arms
to Odysseus for such puny service, at least divide them
and give the larger share to Diomedes! But why give them
to the Ithacan at all, who does everything in secret,
and always unarmed, using tricks to deceive the enemy!
One golden gleam from his helmet will reveal his hiding spot,
his tricks and traps and the sneaky man himself! And who believes
his head can even hold the heavy helmet of Achilles—
or will it sink under the weight? And who believes that man’s arm
has strength enough to lift the heavy spear of Pelian ash?
And the shield, carven with imagery of our world’s history,
is no item for his timid hand (his left one, made only
for thievery)! Why seek prizes that’ll weigh you down, weakling?
If our Argives give you these arms by mistake, the enemy
will strip them from you, not fear you! And how will you flee from them
(your greatest skill, you little coward), when all that massive weight
will slow you down—if you can even lift it! And everyone
look at your shield, so rarely raised in fight it looks good as new!
While mine, held up high against thousands of incoming spears,
is now damaged, and for the scrap heap! Ajax needs a new shield!

So now. Enough of worthless words! Let everyone watch us fight!
Put our hero’s arms in the middle of the enemy lines,
give the command to recover them, and who gets them, keeps them.”

The son of Telamon was done, and all the people answered
his final words with applause. And then Odysseus stood up.
So, letting his gaze linger at his feet for a bit, he then
looked to his leaders. With great expectation they awaited
the coming of his words to break the silence. They looked forward
to his eloquence and grace—and his speech would not disappoint.

“If my prayers” (he began) “and yours, my Argives, had been heard,
the winner of this war would not be shrouded in doubt; and you,
Achilles, would still be master of your armour, and stand with us.
But since the obstinate Fates have taken him from me and you
—(and here the hero wiped what may have been a tear from his eye)—
who is best to receive the arms of Achilles than the man
through whom the army of the Greeks received mighty Achilles
in the first place? It was I who went to him and brought him here.
Why let Ajax’s dull thinking—and it is—be of any benefit to him?
Nor why should my eloquence—if it is—do me any harm,
which has always served me well, and you, too, our army’s leaders.
Let each man use his native powers to his best ability!

Regarding families and forebears, and deeds others have done,
these aren’t ours to call our own. But if Ajax persists in this
and puts himself in the lineage of our great father Zeus,
then I, too, can say the same : I, too, am third in line from Zeus.
My father is Laertes, his father is Arcesius,
and his father is Zeus. (And there are no convicted
exiles in my line—fratricidal Telamon is no relation.)
As for my mother’s side, add Hermes to my nobility.
Through both my parents the spirit of the gods have entered me!
But I would not take the arms before us by reason of birth
(nor because my father didn’t have his own brother murdered).
I would have you weigh my appeal on my own merits alone.
Ajax’s father and the father of Achilles were brothers,
sure, but why should that count in Ajax’s favour? Not our birth
but our deeds should be the appropriate judge of our rewards!
But if you would trace our lines of descent and next of kin, shouldn’t
Peleus, the father of Achilles, receive the armour?
Or Achilles’ son Neoptolemus? What place is there
for Ajax in all this? And Teucer is no less a cousin
to Achilles than Ajax! Do we hear Teucer complaining?
And if he did want them, our greatest sniper, would he get them?
So I say it is deeds alone that determine the merit
of this argument. And I’ve done more deeds than I can number.
Still and all, I will now attempt to recount them in order.

The sea-goddess Thetis, mother of Achilles, foreknowing
her son’s ruin at Troy, disguised him as a girl, and this trick
of feminine clothing fooled everyone—Ajax included.
But not me. I placed some armour (glories in the eyes of men)
in among the women’s things; and, though dressed as a daughter,
the curious Achilles took hold of the shield and the spear.
So it was then I said to him : ‘Ah, the son of the goddess!
Troy will fall, but only if you come with us and make it be!
Why hesitate to overturn Troy?’ Then I took hold of him;
and I brought here the hero whose bravery saved all of us.

So I say that all his many victories I can call my own!
So it was I who cured Telephon (who showed us the way here).
So it was I who conquered Thebes, and Lesbos, and Tenedos;
also Chryse and Cilla (sacred cities of Apollo);
and Scyrus, too. Regard these hands as those that shook the city
walls of Lyrnesus to dust. This is not the time to mention
every last deed of mine. But it was I who brought us the man
who destroyed ‘invincible’ Hector! For those arms with which I
uncovered Achilles and brought him here, I say I deserve these!
I gave arms to the living. Let the dead now return them to me.

When the betrayal of Menelaus dismayed all of us,
and our thousand ships joined together at Euboean Aulis,
though we waited day by day, no winds came to speed us along.
Then came a cruel oracle to commander Agamemnon,
instructing him to sacrifice his daughter, wholly innocent,
to unsympathetic Athena. The father refused this,
though leader of the thousand ships—because he was a father
first. So he felt a great anger at the gods. And it was I
who urged the father to admit his responsibility
to the public right. I had a difficult case to present,
because I was confronting an unenthusiastic judge.
But, as it happened, the right of the people, of his brother,
and his position as commander of the army, all moved him
to counterbalance love with blood, and his daughter was to be
given to the gods. I was sent forth with word to the mother
Clytemnestra, who was not to be persuaded, but only
deceived. (Without my ‘trickery’, we’d have no victory now.)
If the son of Telamon had been sent as ambassador
to the mother, we’d still be at Aulis waiting for winds to blow!

To recount everything I’ve done for the good of the army
during this long war would require a hearing just as long.  
After the initial engagements, the enemy hid behind
its city walls, and for a long while there was no occasion
for warfare on the open plain. It look ten long years to fight
to the end. During all this time, what was our Ajax doing,
he whose only intelligence is of war? What use were you
to all of us then? If you want to know what I was doing,
I was killing the enemy. With my ‘tricky’ mind I lay
in ambush. With my ‘tricky’ mind I ordered a defensive
trench dug round our camp. And (without any tricks) I encouraged
our warriors to bear the long wait for combat with patience.
I gave advice on nourishment and armament. I was sent
out on dangerous missions when strategy required it.

One night, deceived by Zeus in a dream, our leader ordered us
to lay down our weapons and flee in our ships. (Agamemnon,
let it be said, is wholly innocent in this; it was god
who tricked him.) So what did Ajax do? Did he refuse to yield
to the Trojans, and demand the destruction of the city?
Was he unable to hold himself back from open battle?
No. Nor did he stop the exodus of our men to their ships.
Did he raise up his spear to inspire the others to fight?
Is all that too much to ask of one who speaks so forcefully?
Am I wrong when I say Ajax fled with the rest of the men?
Indeed—I saw you, and when I saw you I was full of shame
for you. I saw Ajax with his back turned, readying his sails
disgracefully. Right away I cried out to you : ‘What is this
you do? What is this madness? Why is everyone retreating
when Troy is already in our hands? What are you bringing home
after ten years of war but disgrace?’ With these and other words
(my heartache had made me eloquent) I turned our army round
and brought them back to war. Our commander mustered the allies,
though his dream had left him fearful and suspicious. And what did
the daring Ajax say then, to help rouse the warriors? Nothing.
But Thersites had something to say! He dared to criticise
our kings in a way only he can—without fear of punishment!
(But happily for them I had the insubordinate punished.)
It was I who rose up and got our trembling men to lift
their spears against the enemy. I gave them back their virtue!
Since then, whatever Ajax has accomplished is thanks to me,
who brought him back from his panicked flight home!

There’s more. Of all the Argives, is there one who sings your praises?
Or claims you as a friend? Diomedes, however, has no
problem patrolling with me, approving me. He always stands
confident with Odysseus beside him. It is surely
something that out of the hundreds of thousands of Argives here,
the great Diomedes chooses as his friend—Odysseus!
And no casting of lots is required to motivate me.
Risking all the hazards of the night and of the enemy,
I dared to go out into the wide-open plain and struck down
Phrygian Dolon, who was out to cause trouble for us all.
But I kept him alive just long enough to spill everything
on his mind. I learned of the Trojans’ treacherous plans for us.
Now I knew all, but did I come back with this valuable news,
knowing I would be celebrated in camp for my success?
No, I did not. I went further forward, not yet satisfied,
even with knowing all. I went to the tents of Rhesus, king
of the Thracians, and killed him and every last one of them.
Only then did I slip away triumphant from the Trojan side,
riding a stolen chariot with all my prayers answered,
rejoicing in my victory all the way back to our ships.
And it turned out that Hector had promised Dolon the horses
of Achilles if he’d returned with information on us!
Now will Ajax be kinder, and yield to me my rightful arms?

Need I mention my devastation of Sarpedon’s Lycians?
With my bloody sword I slaughtered Coeranos and Alastor
and Chromius, Alcander and Halius and Noëmon,
Prytanis, Thoön, Chersidamas, Charopes, Ennomos,
all fated to be diced up by my blade. Many more, whose names
are already forgotten, fell under my hand by Troy’s walls.
Warriors, my wounds attest to my courage, honourable
for their position on my body. Don’t take my word for it—
look!” (and the man opened his garment) “My chest took a dangerous
blow for all of you! But in all the many years of fighting,
how many wounds has Ajax suffered? He’s lost no blood at all
for his fellows—and his body will prove bare of any wound!

So Ajax says he fought for us against the Trojans and Zeus.
I should say he did; you won’t hear me scorn his heroism.
But I’m not about to give to him the glory that belongs
to all of us. Rather let him recognise your courage, too.
What about Patroclus, who defended our ships from fire?
Ajax boasts that he took on Hector and his spear, ignoring
all the others who dared to do the same—our king, our leaders,
even me. It just so happened that chance brought out his pebble
from the helmet. And what eventuated from this face-off?
Hector got away without a single scratch on his body!

It’s a sad thought to think of the fallen Achilles, the best
of us all. But not tears, nor grief, nor any fear prevented me
from hacking my way to his body to bring it back to us.
These shoulders, yes, I say, these shoulders of mine brought Achilles
with all his armour back to our ships;—His armour which I now
claim as my own. Obviously my strength is fit to carry
the heavy armour of Achilles. And my humble heart is fit
to recognise the honour you would give me. Surely the mother
of Achilles, sea-goddess Thetis, so ambitious for her son,
would frown to see this heavenly prize, the very art of Heaven,
on the woundless body of so crude and ignorant a soldier.
What can Ajax know of the detailed carvings on the shield?
The sea, the lands, the starry infinite sky, the Pleiades,
the Hyades, the Bear who never dips a toe in Ocean,
the diversity of planets, and Orion with his shining sword.
So Ajax would have armour he has no understanding of?

And why is he reproaching me for coming late to the war?
Does he know he’s reproaching the great-hearted Achilles too?
If it’s criminal to play the fool, then Achilles and I
are both guilty. (I played insane, while he played a woman!)
If the duration of the delay is the worst of the guilt,
I was fighting much earlier than the mighty Achilles.
As my loving wife slowed my coming, so his loving mother
slowed his. But once we came here, we gave our all to the army.
Censure me if you like—I have no true defence to give you—
but know I share this ‘crime’ with the mighty Achilles himself!
Just remember that he was uncovered by Odysseus,
not Ajax. No, not Ajax’s genius—but Odysseus’!

And let no one be surprised by the abuse his coarse tongue pours
in my direction, for you too he deems worthy of disrespect.
Was it wrong of me to accuse Palamedes of a crime,
but honourable for you to have punished him? He had no
defence against his terrible crime, so patently proven :
you saw the stolen gold hidden in his tent—a bribe exposed.

As for Philoctetes living on Vulcanian Lemnos—
that’s not my doing. Defend your own decision on this point,
for you agreed to it. It’s true I counselled him to reject
this miserable war, and look for a place of peace and calm
to ease his painful foot. So he listened to me—and he lives.
Not only was my counsel well-meant, it was right. (Though being
well-meant is enough.) He lives—and all of us need him to live!
Have our prophets not given us their visions? Philoctetes
must live for Troy to be obliterated—but don’t order me
to go get him! Better for you to send Ajax, whose eloquence
will mollify the man gone mad with the agony of disease.
The shrewd arts of Ajax will bring Philoctetes back to us.
No. Sooner will Simois flow backwards, or Ida stand bare
of leaf! Sooner will Greece bring rescue to Troy before Ajax
returns with the man—if I refuse to offer my help in this.
Bold Philoctetes! Though you despise us all, and curse us all;
though you hope to make me as unhappy as you, and to drink
my blood, and await your chance for all this, and get your revenge!
Still, I am prepared to go to Lemnos and bring the man back.
And Fate will have it that I get his arrows into my hands
—just as I captured Helenus, just as I entered the shrine
of the enemy and stole the effigy of Athena.
And Ajax has the audacity to compare himself to me?
Everybody knows we cannot take Troy without that statue!
(So the Fates have determined.) So what is Ajax doing now?
Where are the enormous words from our enormous warrior?
What is he scared of? Meanwhile, Odysseus dares to go
past the enemy watchmen, entrusting his life to the darkness
of night, and risking a storm of enemy swords, to climb up
the high walls of Troy—and not just that, but to get to the top
of the city and its inmost temple, to steal the goddess,
and carry her off through the enemy! Without this tricky work,
Ajax’s magnificent shield wouldn’t mean much in his hand.
On that night it was I who gained the victory over Troy.
I vanquished Troy because I made it possible to vanquish Troy.

Enough already with your ostentatious looks and ramblings
over Diomedes! Yes, he’s been my partner in many
a victory. He has rightfully earned his share of laudation!
When you were holding up your magnificent shield in defence
of our ships, you were not alone in that. Many warriors
were there beside you—me included! If he knew then what he
knows now, that the brainy man gains victory just as surely
as the brawny man, that the prize is awarded to something
more than just a fighting right hand, Diomedes would now come
for these arms, as would the warlike Eurypylus, and Thoas;
nor would Idomeneus be absent from this rivalry,
nor his fellow warrior from island Crete, Meriones.
The great Menelaus, too, would vie for the prize.
All know that these powerful fighters, my equals on the field,
have followed my many counsels. Ajax, too, with his right arm
profits us greatly on the battlefield; but his intelligence—
not so much. Better for you, too, to follow my leadership.
You have power without wit, while I’m always thinking ahead.
You fight well, no question of that; but it is I who counsels
the king in when to fight. Your value is all in your body;
while my value includes mind. Just as he who steers the ship
excels all those who row it; and as the general excels
the soldier—by just that much am I superior to you.
As we age we come to learn the mind is stronger than the body
—or it should be. A man’s true power is in thinking rightly.

So then. Esteemed leaders of our army, grant me the armour!
For all of my diligence over the years as your faithful
defender, this glory should be my reward to have. And now
my work is done—I have taken the Palladium, casting
aside the meddling Fates; and by giving us the power
to destroy high Troy, I have destroyed it. Now, by our shared hopes,
by the walls of Troy doomed in time to fall, by the god whom I
snatched away from the enemy, by whatever is left to be
thought of and done with wisdom (if indeed something bold is yet
to be required of us)—I ask of you to remember me!
But if you won’t put the armour into my hands, put it in hers!”
—and he pointed to the effigy of goddess Athena.

The leaders were moved, and their judgment confirmed the influence
of eloquence. The man powerful in speech obtained the reward.

Ajax, then, he who had faced off against Hector so many times,
he who had faced so many times iron and fire and Zeus,
finally fell : by anger the unconquerable was conquered.
He tore his sword from its sheath and said : “This undeniably
is mine!—Or does Odysseus want this too? This that is mine
I now use against myself! The blade that so often dripped with blood
of Trojans will now drip with its master’s! No man has power
to stop Ajax—but Ajax!”

So he spoke, and plunged the deadly sword into his chest, which showed
no wound until now. No hand was strong enough to extricate
the deep-stuck blade : but his spurting blood pushed it out and away.
The bloody ground gave birth to a flower which rose from the grass,
a purple flower, which long ago had sprung from the spilled blood
of sad Hyacinthus. The leaves are inscribed with imprinting
applicable both to the boy and to the man : A I  A I :
the name of Ajax is mostly there, and the boy’s final cry.

end.

Ovid, Metamorphoses, 13.125–398.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited February 18 by Jeff Bernstein

[Karim D. Ghantous]

[Jeff Bernstein]

[ 01 Virgin Sunrise Photograph Christine Marie United States 2023 / 02 Ocean Wave Blown Glass Sculpture Vladislava Tazetdinova Portugal 2025 / 03 AOTEAROA. Invisible Mappings Photograph Giorgia Valli United States 2023 / 04 AOTEAROA. The Origin Photograph Giorgia Valli United States 2023 / 05 AOTEAROA. The End of the Story Photograph Giorgia Valli United States 2023 / 06 The Man and Flowers Painting Zdenek Sopousek Norway 2017 ]  

[Jeff Bernstein]

The following tale transmits the reasonable resolution of good soldier Odysseus. 

 

Commander Odysseus, armed to the teeth, is hidden with his comrades inside the hollow belly of the Trojan Horse, which stands within the walls of unsuspecting Troy. Odysseus and his men must stay silent through the night, for the Greek plan is to attack the Trojans at dawn. Now what happened was, one of the young soldiers hiding with Odysseus began murmuring in his sleep. If an inquisitive townsperson overheard this noise, the jig was up. So Odysseus puts his hand over the soldier's mouth, to muffle him and protect the mission; but the distractive sounds persist, and the other soldiers begin to sweat; and Commander Odysseus presses harder, and suffocates him to death. Whether it be accident or otherwise, who can say? But the mission is saved, and Troy falls. Odysseus does what is necessary, whatever is necessary; rationally, capably; coolly.

 

btw, for hiding in the Trojan Horse, hero Aeneas deems Odysseus a cheat or sneaky (pellacis Ulixi, 2.90) during his story to the young princess Dido.

[Jeff Bernstein]

[ 01 Seawater Photograph Angelica Dettorre Italy 2014 / 02 Pacific light Photograph Rudi Sebastian Germany 2015 / 03 Disappearing Photograph Nikki Willson Australia 2021 / 04 Blue Harmony Photograph Alex Sher United States 2021 / 05 Angel 8 Photograph Zena Holloway United Kingdom 2005 / 06 Angel 5 Photograph Zena Holloway United Kingdom 2005 / 07 Angel 6 Photograph Zena Holloway United Kingdom 2005 / 08 Ephemera 1 Photograph Zena Holloway United Kingdom 2005 / 09 Poseidon Photograph Jerome Perez France 2019 / 10 Lightning Crashes Photograph Garret Suhrie United States 2020 / 11 Caution, boiling! Photograph Alexej Sachov Ukraine 2022 / 12 Encounter With A Rock Photograph Don Van Amerongen United States 2024 / 13 Crashing Wave Photograph Lloyd Goldstein Mexico 2014 / 14 North Sea Edge Photograph Steven Brough United Kingdom 2017 / 15 Escape Photograph Angelica Dettorre Italy 2023 / 16 Luminous Photograph Drew Doggett United States 2022 / 17 Immersion Photograph Drew Doggett United States 2022 / 18 Under Water 01 Photograph Kostas Pittas Greece 2017 / 19 booble breathing Photograph Angelica Dettorre Italy 2024 / 20 alone Photograph Stelios Kleanthous Cyprus 2020 / 21 Sleeping Beauty in Gold Photograph Zena Holloway United Kingdom 2014 / 22 Sisters Photograph Zena Holloway United Kingdom 2012 / 23 Bunaken Marine Park, Indonesia Photograph Ricky Beron United States 2018 / 24 Whip Coral in the Maldives Photograph Zac Macaulay United Kingdom 2008 / 25 Atlantis Photograph Zac Macaulay United Kingdom 2010 / 26 Morning Light Photograph Zac Macaulay United Kingdom 2009 / 27 The Mermaid Photograph Alex Buckingham Australia 2016 / 28 Treading Water Photograph Zak Collins United States 2020 / 29 newborn Photograph Stelios Kleanthous Cyprus 2020 / 30 pinky 2 Photograph Stelios Kleanthous Cyprus 2021 / 31 pinky 2 Photograph Stelios Kleanthous Cyprus 2021 / 32 Southern Atlantic Photograph Anthony Georgieff Bulgaria 2011 / 33 Azul Profundo Painting Angel Ortiz Mexico 2023 / 34 Sea Dance 2 Photograph Zena Holloway United Kingdom 2016 / 35 Air & Water No. 81 Photograph Marc Ward United States 2013 / 36 Seaside #15 Photograph Tal Paz-Fridman Israel 2018 / 37 The Light Fantastic III Photograph Tal Paz-Fridman Israel 2021 / 38 Air & Water No. 14 Photograph Marc Ward United States 2010 / 39 Sea Level No. 5 Photograph Zak Collins United States 2020 / 40 Pere Marquette Photograph Kevin Avery United States 2022 / 41 Raging Sea Photograph Lloyd Goldstein Mexico 2012 / 42 Aphroditi Photograph Gisele Lubsen United States 2013 / 43 Dialog Photograph Tal Paz-Fridman Israel 2020 / 44 Turn Your Lights Down Low Photograph Dietmar Scherf United States 2016 / 45 Strengthening Photograph Jerome Perez France 2018 / 46 Sunrise Over The Atlantic Photograph Rob Lang United States 2013 / 47 The Swimmer II, Laguna Beach Photograph Robin Ward United States 2022 / 48 Wave Rush Photograph David Baker United Kingdom 2016 / 49 Les grands Eventails blancs Photograph Gallien Laurence France 2020 / 50 Veiled Photograph Gisele Lubsen United States 2020 / 51 Apriel Photograph Alex Sher United States 2016 / 52 Rhapsody of Sea and Sky Photograph Andrea Bruns Canada 2019 / 53 Firewater 3 Photograph Andrew Lever United Kingdom 2018 / 54 shipwreck of hopes Photograph Kasia Derwinska Spain 2018 / 55 Tiree Forms Photograph David Baker United Kingdom 2018 / 56 End of the World No. 2 Photograph Anthony Georgieff Bulgaria 2022 / 57 3 Lightning Strikes : RockPile Beach 4-28-19 Photograph Dean Kirkland United States 2019 / 58 The sun's rays still shone Photograph Vlad Durniev Ukraine 2016 / 59 Atacama Desert No. 11 Photograph Anthony Georgieff Bulgaria 2017 / 60 December Days - Sea III Photograph David Baker United Kingdom 2023 / 61 Hverir geothermal area at sunrise in North Iceland Photograph Luigi Morbidelli Iceland 2021 / 62 Aramu Muru Photograph Christopher William Adach Mexico 2018 / 63 TINOS #77 Photograph Clive Frost United Kingdom 2020 ]