The Iliad by Homer

*contains spoilers*

One thing that must be noted when first approaching Homer’s The Iliad is that it is an archaic text – the word “archaic” itself derives from the Greek “arkhaikos”, meaning beginning – and a good deal of research and familiarisation with Greek mythology would not go amiss. Also, as I found out having switched editions just over halfway through (there was a brand spanking new addition in a charity shop that I simply could not resist buying), different translations are available and this could affect your reading experience. I began with a 1987 Penguin Classic edition, translated by Martin Hammond, before skipping over to a 2011 Phoenix edition translated by the (I’m sure) delectable Stephen Mitchell. Thus, The Iliad, for me, transformed from a rather elaborate and fluid prose in the 1987 edition to a more strategically lined (but also rather fluid) translation in the 2011 edition. Mitchell presents the text in a five-beat metre, split into stanzas, which is visually as well as thematically distinguishable to the reader, and it suits the archaic nature of the text much better. The variation in the presentation of the characters is also notable, as Achilleus becomes Achilles, Aias becomes Ajax, Hektor becomes Hector, and so on. Bear this in mind as you choose your translation, and, if this sort of thing matters to you, do choose carefully.

The archaic nature of the text also raises the question of Homer’s contribution to the story as it stands today. Homer is supposed to have been a blind storyteller, though the veracity of his authorship is less of an issue when one considers the genius of the piece itself – it clearly matters more that we simply have it to enjoy and analyse. Scholars have suggested that the story has been passed down through the generations, poet by poet, until it has been refined into its current form, into which it has, as I have noted earlier, been translated into other different forms also. Regarding the text’s archaic classification, archaeological, historical and linguistic evidence suggests that The Iliad was formulated as far back as the late 8^th Century BC/early 7^th Century BC, though the events are meant to have occurred in the 12^th Century BC. This Iron Age setting is betrayed somewhat, however, by the appearance of Bronze Age tools (spear-tips, armour and shields), though it was a period in which the Greeks believed that the gods still concerned themselves with the affairs of mortals, godlike or no. And though the events that comprise The Iliad are considered to be purely fictitious, the 19^th Century archaeologist Heinrich Schliemann did once claim to have found an appropriately situated piece of land off the Aegean coast that could have been Troy, showing signs of a sacking.

The story of The Iliad concerns the lives (and, more pressingly, the deaths) of a myriad of characters. Achilles, though he goes missing for quite a large portion of the text because of a petulant reaction to a dispute with Agamemnon over the ownership a woman, is a pivotal character widely considered to be the protagonist of the piece. It is Agamemnon’s snubbing of Achilles that urges his mother, Thetis, the sea nymph, to plead with Zeus so that Agamemnon’s Achaean forces are punished for this injustice. It is the eventual death of Achilles’ long-time friend, Patroclus, by the hand of Hector in a later book, that finally inspires Achilles’ brutal contribution to the war. Achilles comes down hard on the Trojans, and vows to Hector, as they clash in their final battle, that upon his slaying he will not hand his body back to the Trojans – instead he will deny him a respectable burial and drag his corpse through the Achaean camps. Hector’s generally honourable conduct lies in remarkable contrast with Achilles’ godlike mercilessness, as he is a fierce warrior who loves the Trojan people, loves his family, his friends and his father, Priam, and respects his opposition. In the face of Achilles’ refusal to offer him a respectable burial, Hector maintains his initial offer. The irony of the qualities of these two very separate characters is that Hector is considered by scholars to be the antagonist, though this feeling may stem from Paris’s disreputable stealing of Menelaus’ wife, which is the catalyst for the war in the first place.

The gods of Greek mythology are the real masters in this epic tragedy; puppet masters, essentially. Mortals are mere pawns in their wanton game of chess, though like most gods they are vain, possessive and jealous, and they sit comfortably on their thrones whilst their pieces die painfully on the battlefield. As the swathes of mortal and demi-godlike characters die, leaving their grieving families behind on earth as they sink into Hades, it only serves to amplify the power and will of the gods whilst also adding weight and depth to the grit, struggle and heroism of the mortal warriors and their families. Rarely do any the characters that take part in this adventure develop or change. Surprisingly it is Achilles who relents as he is faced with the grieving figure of King Priam of Troy; Priam begs humbly at the feet of Achilles for the return of his beloved son Hector’s body after he is safely escorted across the field of battle by Hermes. Achilles therefore provides respite from his bloodthirstiness to at least one Trojan. And from here, we move on to The Odyssey...