The Core Blog

"Hello, Penelope? Can you hear me? I get no service here. Let me sail closer to land."

"Now resourceful Odysseus stripped his rags from him, and sprang/ up atop the great threshold, holding his bow and quiver..." (XXII, 1-2)

Oh yeah. It's payback time.

Packed with gruesome fun and disgusting imagery, Odysseus finally gets his revenge, dispatching the suitors with barely a scratch, taunting them ("either fight me/ or run, if any of you can escape death and its spirits." (XXII, 65-66)) as he slaughters them.

He may have only his son and his loyal swineherd and oxherd, but the plan is finally in motion. After watching the suitors fail, Odysseus strung the bow with ease and fired a single arrow through all the axes.

He's trapped all the suitors. Book XXII looks like it's going to be the time when he finally triumphs. The wait has been unbearable and at the same time, perfectly paced. I feel that up to this point, Homer has toyed with the reader in a wonderful way, giving me just enough to keep reading without spoiling the culminating action.

With Odysseus back in his house, everything is wrapping up nicely. He has tricked the suitors into entering a game of skill he knows he will win. The bad guys are making clear who they are through their atrocious behavior. The good guys are doing the same by showing their disgust and their loyalty to Odysseus.

Now, all we are relying on is Odysseus's patience so he can spring his trap at the perfect moment.

Those who wish Odysseus and Odysseus-disguised-as-beggar harm are certainly evil and selfish and cruel, but they sure know how to trash talk.

Afraid that someone is chipping away at his free meal, the beggar Iros challenges Odysseus to a fight and plans to "hit him with both hands, and spatter all of the teeth out/ from his jaws on the ground, as if he were a wild pig rooting/ the crops." (XVIII, 28-30)

The buildup to the final battle has me gripping the book so hard, my fingers have made a permanent imprint. The pacing since Odysseus's arrival has been perfect.

After all those horrible years of travelling, Odysseus finally wakes up in Ithaka. End of story, right? Not so fast. The suitors obviously won't be thrilled to see the mighty king, so Athena steps in to help with a little chicanery. She disguises Odysseus as an old man to allow him to get the lay of the land while she summons backup (remember his strapping son, Telemachos?).

In the last two books (XI and XII), Odysseus leaves Circe, goes down to Hades, comes back to Circe to pick up his dead friend, outsmarts the Sirens, has his crew outsmarted by the gods on Helios's island and loses all his friends and his ships. What more can Homer do to a hero?

The most disturbing section, for me, was Circe's warning that Odysseus would lose six men to Skylla. He knew it was coming, yet he said nothing to his men.

At first, I believed his behavior showed uncharacteristic callousness. He should have warned them.

Blown off course after his men, overcome with jealousy, nearly mutiny, Odysseus ends up on the island of the evil Laistrygones where "Gladly/ my ship, and only mine, fled out from the overhanging/ cliffs to open water, but the others were all destroyed there." (X, 130-132)

I've mentioned before my surprise at the thorough development of some of the characters. Because this epic poem is filled with destruction, gods and mythical happenings, I sometimes expect the characters to be as flat as action heroes. Again, I was pleasantly surprised when our perfect Odysseus showed the inherent flaws in his character in Book X.

" ... I was worn out/ with always handling the sheet myself, and I would not give it/ to any other companion, so we could come home quicker..." (X, 31-33).