How to Analyze Poetry

Thursday, 31 August 2017 04:15

Poetry is a compact language that expresses complex feelings. To understand the mult
poem, readers must examine its words and phrasing from the perspectives of rhythm, s
meaning, and implied meaning. Readers then need to organize responses to the verse i
point explanation. A good beginning involves asking questions that apply to most poe

Context of the Poem

Clear answers to the following questions can help establish the context of a poem and
of understanding:
• Who wrote the poem? Does the poet's life suggest any special point of view, such
affiliation, religious sect, career interest, musical talent, family or personal probl
handicap — for example, H. D.'s feminism, Amiri Baraka's radicalism, T. S. Elio
Anglicanism, William Carlos Williams' career as a physician, A. R. Ammons' trai
Lowell's aristocratic background, John Berryman's alcoholism, or Hart Crane's h
• When was the poem written and in what country? Knowing something about the
culture helps readers understand what's in a poem and why.
• Does the poem appear in the original language? If not, readers should consider t
alter the language and meaning of a poem.
• Is the poem part of a special collection or series? Examples of such series and co
St. Vincent Millay's sonnets, Carl Sandburg's Chicago Poems, or Rita Dove's triad
and III."
• Does the poem belong to a particular period or literary movement? For example
to imagism, confessional verse, the Beat movement, the Harlem Renaissance, the
American Indian renaissance, or feminism?

Style of the Poem

Into what category does the poem fit — for example, Carl Sandburg's imagism in "Fog
Brooks' epic "The Anniad"? Readers should apply definitions of the many categories to
describes the poem's length and style:
tiple meanings of a
sound, images, obvious
into a logical, point-by-
etry.

d form the foundation

h as a political
lems, travel, or
ot's conversion to
ining in chemistry, Amy
homosexuality?
e poet's life, times, and

that translation can

ollections include Edna

d, "Adolescence — I, II,

e, does the poem relate

e Civil Rights era, the

g" or Gwendolyn
o determine which
Style of the Poem
Into what category does the poem fit — for example, Carl Sandburg's imagism in "Fog
Brooks' epic "The Anniad"? Readers should apply definitions of the many categories to
describes the poem's length and style:
• Is it an epic, a long poem about a great person or national hero?
• Is it a lyric, a short, musical verse?
• Is it a narrative, a poem that tells a story?
• Is it a haiku, an intense, lyrical three-line verse of seventeen syllables?
• Is it confessional? For example, does it examine personal memories and experien

Title of the Poem

• Is the title's meaning obvious? For example, does it mention a single setting and
Merwin's "The Drunk in the Furnace" or James A. Wright's "Autumn Begins in M
• Does it imply multiple possibilities? For example, Jean Toomer's "Georgia Dusk,
of day as well as to dark-skinned people.
• Does it strike a balance, as in Rita Dove's "Beulah and Thomas"?
• Is there an obvious antithesis, as with Robert Frost's "Fire and Ice"?
• Is there historical significance to the title? For example, Robert Lowell's "The Qu
Nantucket."

Repetition in the Poem

Readers should read through a poem several times, at least once aloud. If it is a long p
Ginsberg's Howl or Hart Crane's The Bridge, readers should concentrate on key passa
repetition of specific words, phrases, or verses in the poem.
• Why is there a repeated reference to the sea in Robinson Jeffers's poetry?
• Why does the pronoun "we" recur in Gwendolyn Brooks' "We Real Cool"?
• Why does Edgar Lee Masters reprise epitaphs for Spoon River Anthology?
If readers note repetition in the poem, they should decide why certain information see
repetition.

Opening and Closing Lines of the Poem

• Does the poet place significant information or emotion in these places? For exam
Marianne Moore's "Poetry," readers may question the negative stance in the open
• Does the poet intend to leave a lasting impression by closing with a particular th
why does Langston Hughes' "Harlem" lead to the word "explode"?
g" or Gwendolyn
o determine which

nces?

action, such as W. S.
Martins Ferry, Ohio"?
," which refers to a time

uaker Graveyard in

poem, such as Allen

ages and look for

ems to deserve the

mple, when reading

ning lines.
hought? For example,
Opening and Closing Lines of the Poem
• Does the poet place significant information or emotion in these places? For exam
Marianne Moore's "Poetry," readers may question the negative stance in the open
• Does the poet intend to leave a lasting impression by closing with a particular th
why does Langston Hughes' "Harlem" lead to the word "explode"?

Passage of Time in the Poem

• Can readers pin down a time frame? What details specify time?
• Does the poet name a particular month or season, as with Amy Lowell's "Pattern
• Is there a clear passage of time, as with the decline of the deceased woman in De
in Mexico"?
• How long is the period of time? Are there gaps?

Speaker of the Poem

• Who is the speaker? Is the person male or female?
• Does the voice speak in first person (I, me, my, mine), for example, John Berryma
• Does the speaker talk directly to a second person, as with Adrienne Rich's "Divin
• Is the voice meant to be universal — for example, applicable to either sex at any

Names of Characters
• Does the name of a character suggest extra meaning, such as Eben Flood (an alc
Arlington Robinson's "Mr. Flood's Party" and T. S. Eliot's prissy protagonist in "T
Alfred Prufrock"?

Basic Details of the Poem

• Is the poet deliberately concealing information from the readers, as with the sou
Robert Lowell's "Skunk Hour"?
• Why does the poet leave out significant facts? Are readers supposed to fill in the
the relationship between mother and daughter in Cathy Song's "The White Porch
modern tourist in Allen Tate's "Ode to the Union Dead"?

Culture
• Does the poem stress cultural details, such as the behavior, dress, or speech habi
or a historical period or event — for instance, the death of an airline stewardess
"Falling"?
mple, when reading
ning lines.
hought? For example,

ns"?
enise Levertov's "Death

an's "Huffy Henry"?

ng into the Wreck"?
y time or place?

coholic) in Edwin
The Love Song of J.

urce of depression in

blanks, for example,

h" or the perplexity of a

its of a particular group

s in James Dickey's
Culture
• Does the poem stress cultural details, such as the behavior, dress, or speech habi
or a historical period or event — for instance, the death of an airline stewardess
"Falling"?
• Are any sections written in dialect, slang, or foreign words, as with the Deep Sou
Brown's "Ma Rainey"?

Fantasy versus Reality

• Is the poem an obvious fantasy, as is the case with the intense confrontation in S
and the setting of Rita Dove's "Geometry"?

Mood and Tone of the Poem

• What is the mood of the poem? Is it cheerful or jolly like limericks? Is it mysterio
ominous, festive, fearful, or brooding, as with Randall Jarrell's "Sad Heart at the
the mood change within the body of the work, as with Joy Harjo's "The Woman H
Thirteenth Floor Window"? Why does the mood shift? Where does the shift begin
• What is the poet's tone? Is it satiric, serious, mock serious, playful, somber, brash
humorous, as with Robert Frost's "Departmental: The End of My Ant Jerry"? Do
agree with, ridicule, or condemn the speaker, as in the touch of mock heroic in R
Death of a Toad"? Is there an obvious reason for the poet's attitude, as suggested
James Dickey's "Angina"? Does the poet withhold judgment, as is the case with th
Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology?

Themes of the Poem

Locating and identifying theme is crucial to understanding dominant ideas; theme is t
• Is the subject youth, loss, renewal, patriotism, nature, love? Are there several them
themes relate to each other?
• Is the poet merely teasing or entertaining or trying to teach a lesson, as do Robin
Hawks" and Marianne Moore's "The Mind Is an Enchanted Thing"?
• Does the poet emphasize the theme by means of onomatopoeia, personification,

Rhythm of the Poem

• Is there a dominant rhythm? Does it dance, frolic, meander, slither, or march? Is
a scene from a drama? Is it a droning monologue, as found in a journal, diary, or
• Does the rhythm relate to the prevalent theme of the poem? Or does it seem at o
its of a particular group
s in James Dickey's

uth patois of Sterling

Sylvia Plath's "Daddy"

ous, provocative, zany,

e Supermarket"? Does
Hanging from the
n?
h, or teasingly
oes the poet admire,
Richard Wilbur's "The
d by the suffering in
he epitaphs of Edgar

the poem's essence.

mes? How do these

nson Jeffers' "Hurt

, or controlling images?

s it conversational, like
r confessional?
odds with the theme?
Rhythm of the Poem
• Is there a dominant rhythm? Does it dance, frolic, meander, slither, or march? Is
a scene from a drama? Is it a droning monologue, as found in a journal, diary, or
• Does the rhythm relate to the prevalent theme of the poem? Or does it seem at o
• Does the rhythm increase or decrease in speed, as does Ezra Pound's Hugh Selwy
Contacts? Why?

Use of the Senses in the Poem

• Does the poem stress sense impressions — for example, taste, touch, smell, sound
impressions pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral?
• Does the poet concentrate on a single sense or a burst of sensation, as in Wallace
Quince at the Clavier" or Elizabeth Bishop's "The Fish"?

Imagery in the Poem

• Are there concrete images or pictures that the poet wants readers to see?
• Are the pictures created by means of comparisons — for instance, metaphor or s
objects take on human traits (personification)? Does the speaker talk to inanima
abstract ideas as freedom?

Language of the Poem

• Does the poet stress certain sounds, such as pleasant sounds (euphony) or harsh
(cacophony), as demonstrated by Wendy Rose's title "Academic Squaw"?
• Are certain sounds repeated (alliteration, sibilance), as in the insistent a sounds i
Poem for Willie Best"?
• Are words linked by approximate rhyme, like "seem/freeze," or by real rhyme, su
there a rhyme scheme or sound pattern at the ends of lines, as with the interlocki
Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"? Does rhyming occur within a
as in "black flak" in Randall Jarrell's "The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner"?
• Is there onomatopoeia, or words that make a sound that imitates their meaning,
pong, ricochet, clangor, plash, wheeze, clack, boom, tingle, slip, fumble, or clip-cl
"soar" in Edna St. Vincent Millay's "On Thought in Harness"?

Supplemental Materials
• Has the editor included any preface, explanatory notes, or concluding comments
example, T. S. Eliot's dedication of The Waste Land or Wendy Rose's use of epigr
s it conversational, like
r confessional?
odds with the theme?
yn Mauberley: Life and

d, or sight? Are these

e Stevens's "Peter

simile? Do inanimate
ate objects or to such

letter combinations

in Amiri Baraka's "A

uch as "least/feast"? Is
ing rhymes of Robert
line (internal rhyme),

, such as swoosh, ping

lop, as with the verb

s and questions; for

raphs?
 "soar" in Edna St. Vincent Millay's "On Thought in Harness"?

Supplemental Materials
• Has the editor included any preface, explanatory notes, or concluding comments
example, T. S. Eliot's dedication of The Waste Land or Wendy Rose's use of epigr
• Are there notes and comments in a biography, poet's letters and essays, critical a
anthology, such as biographical footnotes to Anne Sexton's "Sylvia's Death" and
commentaries on Hart Crane's The Bridge?
• Is there an electronic version, such as the poet reading original verse on the Inter
on the record jacket, cassette box, or CD booklet, as found on recordings of Adri
verse?

Drawing Conclusions
After answering the questions presented in this introduction, readers should paraphra
in everyday words, as though talking to someone on the telephone. A summary of the p
emphasize a pattern of details, sounds, or rhythm. For example, do various elements o
readers to believe that the poet is describing an intense experience? Is the poet definin
parenthood, risking a life, curiosity, marriage, religious faith, or aging, as in Denise Le
Alone"? Is the poet telling a story event by event? Does the poet want to sway the read
Bogan does in "Evening in the Sanitarium"?

Before reaching a conclusion about the meaning of a poem, readers should summarize
responses. Are they emotionally moved or touched by the poem? Are they entertained
stirred to agree? Do words and phrases stick in their memory? How has the poet made
most important, why?
s and questions; for
raphs?
analyses, Web site, or
d the many

rnet? Are there notes

ienne Rich's feminist

ase or restate the poem

poem should
of the poem lead
ng something, such as
evertov's "A Woman
der's opinion, as Louise

e their personal
or repulsed, terrified or
e an impression? And
Essays on Homer’s Iliad
ESSAY EIGHT
ON MODERN ENGLISH TRANSLATIONS OF THE ILIAD

[This essay, which has been prepared by Ian Johnston of Malaspina University-College
Vancouver Island University), Canada, is in the public domain and may be used by an
part, without charge and without permission, provided the source is acknowledged; rel
the Table of Contents of the series of essays and an Introductory Comment outlining t
series, please use the following link: Essays on Homer’s Iliad. References to the text of
online translation (by Ian Johnston) available here. The references in square brackets
For comments and questions please contact Ian Johnston.]
 e, Nanaimo, BC (now
nyone, in whole or in
leased August 2005. For
the purpose of the
f the Iliad are to the
are to the Greek text.
part, without charge and without permission, provided the source is acknowledged; rel
the Table of Contents of the series of essays and an Introductory Comment outlining t
series, please use the following link: Essays on Homer’s Iliad. References to the text of
online translation (by Ian Johnston) available here. The references in square brackets
For comments and questions please contact Ian Johnston.]

JOHNSON. ‘We must try its effect as an English poem; that is the way to judge of the
translation. Translations are, in general, for people who cannot read the original.’ . . .
Truth is, it is impossible perfectly to translate poetry. In a different language it may b
has not the same tone.’ (Boswell 921)

“It is a very pretty poem, Mr Pope, but you must not call it Homer” (attributed to Rich

SOME OPENING OBSERVATIONS

George Chapman, the first well-known translator of the Iliad into English, had little s
critics. “Envious Windfuckers,” he called them (quoted Logue 1). In so doing, he helped
continuing modern tradition of fierce arguments about the merits of various translatio
war epic. One of the most curious features of this tradition is its intensity. People tend
feelings when it comes to discussing their preferences, and even cautious scholars easil
restraint they normally display in their academic work to express their unqualified pra
contempt for this or that English version of the Iliad.(1) It’s not just a matter of acade
aggressively superior in defense of the Greek text (which is hardly Homer’s original po
although that can enter into it (after all, departments of Classics justifiably see themse
guardians of the poem, hierophants charged with protecting it from impurities) or wou
accusations of dry pedantry at the scholarly establishment. To judge from conversation
rooms, students and first-time readers and Homerophiles generally are also eager to in
often aggressive debates about their own preferences.

Such arguments are common these days, for we have all sorts of translations to choose
fact, at no time in the history of Homer in English have we had so many options readi
long ago, the translations of Rieu and Lattimore ruled the English-speaking Iliad worl
generation, but now the field is much more crowded, with recent versions by Fitzgerald
Lombardo in print (among others) and even more choices in the public domain on the
many of the long forgotten versions now freely available through Google Books). The
for this are a growing interest in Homer among Greekless readers (especially as a Grea
 leased August 2005. For
the purpose of the
f the Iliad are to the
are to the Greek text.

e merit of a
. BOSWELL. ‘The
be the same tune, but it

hard Bentley).

sympathy for his

d to launch a lively and
ons of Homer’s great
d to have very strong
ly fling aside the
aise or dismissive
emics getting
oem, but no matter),
elves as the traditional
uld-be poets tossing
ns in internet chat
nitiate confident and

e from, new and old. In

ily available. Not so
ld between them for a
d, Fagles, and
e internet (including
most obvious reasons
at Book in Liberal
long ago, the translations of Rieu and Lattimore ruled the English-speaking Iliad worl
generation, but now the field is much more crowded, with recent versions by Fitzgerald
Lombardo in print (among others) and even more choices in the public domain on the
many of the long forgotten versions now freely available through Google Books). The
for this are a growing interest in Homer among Greekless readers (especially as a Grea
Studies and Humanities curriculums) and the prospect of a tidy income from the text-b
with such a rich array of choices, a neophyte seeking the “right” translation or a teach
room text has good reason to worry about an attack of consumer anxiety.

Presumably anyone in search of a translation has to begin by rejecting Boswell’s notio

later students of the questions) that translation is inherently impossible. We may not b
equivalent of Homer’s poem, whatever that means exactly (since the surviving official
exactly the same poem Homer composed and since virtually all those dealing with the
silently at home rather than listening to a professional bard singing the text at a large
judicious sense of the limits of the translator’s artistic license we can get close enough
that we are dealing with Homer or at least an acceptable form of the original.(2)

And in making a decision about the most suitable translation (especially for classroom
have to settle for one particular favourite. Few teachers of the classics would deny tha
the Iliad is to read the original Greek in conjunction with as wide a variety of differen
possible (ancient and modern), so that one’s enjoyment of the Greek text is played off
appreciation for the different interpretative talents which the translators bring to bear
experience and a language so different from their own. Such a rewarding way of explo
available only to very few readers, so we tend to wrestle with the different possibilities
defend that choice as best we can.

All arguments about translations, however, are inherently problematic because they ar
One starts by setting down (implicitly or explicitly) certain criteria, applies those to va
then makes a decision based upon those criteria and (more importantly) upon the rela
them. The outcome is thus predetermined by one’s initial preferences, which rest upon
biases about what long narratives in general and an ancient epic in particular should
biases are often decisively shaped by one’s own personal experience in dealing with lon
narratives). It may be easy enough to secure general agreement about the initial criter
everything depends upon the way these are ranked and applied.
 ld between them for a
d, Fagles, and
e internet (including
most obvious reasons
at Book in Liberal
book market. Faced
her in search of a class

on (often repeated by
be able to get the exact
l text is clearly not
e Iliad are reading it
e group feast), but with a
to it to satisfy ourselves

m use), we will probably

at the best way to study
nt translations as
against one’s
r upon a vision of
oring the text is, alas,
s, settle on one, and

re inevitably circular.
arious offerings, and
ative weight one assigns
n a host of personal
“feel” like (and these
ng traditional
ria involved, but
biases are often decisively shaped by one’s own personal experience in dealing with lon
narratives). It may be easy enough to secure general agreement about the initial criter
everything depends upon the way these are ranked and applied.

Then, too, there is the matter of remaining faithful to the translation which first arous
imagination about Homer. In my experience, this factor often plays a decisive role in a
preference (I myself have always had a strong affection for Rieu’s Iliad and Odyssey fo
reason). Hence, initiating a disinterested conversation about the merits of different tex
business.

THE PAST AND THE PRESENT

Before going onto to explore some of the major criteria in greater detail, perhaps we sh
moment on the general challenge facing the translator of an ancient text. In a sense, h
between the strangeness in the language and vision of the original (which are not a pr
world) and the contemporary sensibility of his readers. Since the successful experience
poem necessarily requires these two to interact, the translator is, in effect, something o
something foreign and, at times, difficult, so that it fits contemporary taste (which incl
taste in dealing with traditional poems). This task is more delicate than it sounds (or s
the translation is to work effectively it must be accessible to the imagination of the rea
were, speak a language she understands—and yet it must also not completely forfeit th
the value of an old poem (and especially of the Iliad) emerges in no small measure fro
the reader’s imagination to explore something different, something uncomfortable, som
the reader’s most complacent assumptions about the world. It’s easy enough to forget
at the heart of the enterprise, either by keeping the translation so strange it makes no
connection with the reader or by making it so contemporary it ceases to challenge with

Few translators, for example, strive to produce an English text which “fits” exactly the
recitation according to ancient patterns of sound or to produce recordings of such tran
Whatever the reason one might have for attempting such a treatment of the Iliad, the
certainly be counterproductive because the modern reader simply cannot access the po
(dealing with art, after all, requires a familiarity with the conventions it uses, and prod
intelligible to readers requires some attention to the conventions familiar to them). To
Lattimore’s idiosyncratic attempt faithfully to adhere to the original lineation and rhy
no means the first attempt to translate Homer in this manner) makes the poem far too
 ng traditional
ria involved, but

sed a particular reader’s

a particular reader’s
or precisely that
xts can be a difficult

hould reflect for a

his task is to mediate
roduct of the modern
of reading an ancient
of a broker, shaping
ludes contemporary
should be), because if
ader—it must, as it
he strangeness, because
om the way it can force
mething that challenges
this dialectical tension
intimate imaginative
h its strangeness.

e Homeric method of
nslated recitations.
results would almost
oem in this manner
ducing something
o some extent
ythms of the original (by
o awkward and strange
certainly be counterproductive because the modern reader simply cannot access the po
(dealing with art, after all, requires a familiarity with the conventions it uses, and prod
intelligible to readers requires some attention to the conventions familiar to them). To
Lattimore’s idiosyncratic attempt faithfully to adhere to the original lineation and rhy
no means the first attempt to translate Homer in this manner) makes the poem far too
for many modern readers (myself included). Whatever language he is using, it is not wr
easily recognizable form of English (in fairness to Lattimore, one should observe that
of his translations would seem to indicate that for many readers he is clearly doing som
I suspect that a good deal of that popularity has to do with the text book choices made
to value what they feel is the alleged “Greekness” of the original far more than they do
accessibility of the English text, especially one written in verse). That comment applies
translation, which is written in such an execrable English style I can think of no other
the market.

Similarly, attempts to modernize Homer, to appeal more directly and obviously to the
contemporary reader, can have deleterious effects on the central tension I refer to. Lom
not above injecting contemporary colloquialisms here and there, a habit which instant
imaginative assent to the fiction. Yes, it’s my language, but something in me strongly r
Homer’s. Of course, different people have different opinions about just how contempo
diction should sound and different levels of tolerance for a modern colloquial style. H
agree, I think, that for them there is a limit of some kind and that, for example, a gang
unacceptably titling the balance in favour of modern sensibilities. I suspect that few p
sort of faithfulness into account would consider Eickhoff’s recent rendition of the Ody
given the extreme liberties he takes with Homer’s text and the way in which he freely i
sorts of details, major and minor, which are not in the original in order to give the stor
modern television drama series.
I mention these points here not in an attempt to discuss thoroughly some complex issu
later) but simply to make the general point that a translation of Homer (and any evalu
translation) needs to take into account the present world of the reader and the past wo
that the success of a translation depends more than anything else upon the translator’
answer the sometimes competing claims of past and present.

POETRY AND PROSE

Homer’s original audience had no sense of a written form for a work to which they we
true whether we believe it was an oral composition or not—any more than we have an
 oem in this manner
ducing something
o some extent
ythms of the original (by
o awkward and strange
ritten in a fluent and
the enduring popularity
mething right, although
e by scholars, who tend
o the imaginative
s also to Hammond’s
reason why it is still on

language of the
mbardo, for example, is
tly collapses my
resists accepting it as
orary Homer’s poetic
However, most would
gsta rap style would be
people who take some
yssey a “translation,”
inserts into Homer all
ry the flavour of a

ues (more about them

uation of a particular
orld of the poem and
’s ability successfully to

ere listening—and that’s

ny idea about the
POETRY AND PROSE

Homer’s original audience had no sense of a written form for a work to which they we
true whether we believe it was an oral composition or not—any more than we have an
written appearance of the lyrics of a new popular song we are listening to. Given that
organized into regularly repeating rhythmic units or lines, when a written form did ap
as poetry (since that sense of a repetitive rhythmic pattern has been, up until modern t
important characteristic separating what we call prose from what we call poetry). Hen
in translating the Iliad in English has, for the most part, been committed to the produ
translations, although there have been those, like Thomas Carlyle, who would reject a
irrelevant: “We want what the ancients thought and said, and none of your silly poetry
Preface to W. C. Green’s translation of the Iliad. In fairness to Carlyle we should be aw
may well be prompted by the quality of English translations of classical literature prod
contemporaries, rather than by any inherent dismissal of poetry generally).

That, in itself, would be no sufficient reason for declaring that a modern English versi
offered to us as poetry rather than as prose. After all, a modern audience is much mor
narrative epics in prose than in any other style, and many prose translations have an e
(Butler or Rieu, for instance). Still, one has to wonder about which form is more appro
times, given that the overwhelming majority of Homer’s “audience” now consists of sil
rapt listeners.

Why should this matter? Well, it does if we remember that the experience of reading p
significantly different from reading prose. For one thing, the reader’s eyes move differe
least) reading patterns vary (with poetry I tend to linger more or review particular pas
with my sensitivity to certain tropes heightened). Then, too, the poetic text presents a d
appearance (a ragged right hand margin with a significant amount of white space), es
chooses to add breaks here and there (for example, between narrative descriptions and
can significantly affect the way a reader experiences the poem (in marked contrast to p
justified, proportionally spaced prose, often in relatively small print with few breaks). I
to offer a long narrative in the form of a poem in a traditional rhythm is to remind th
dealing with an entirely contemporary work; it is, if you like, a way of putting her into
receptive to an encounter with a past sensibility (especially if she already has some exp
traditional poetry). A prose narrative in itself tends to smooth out this difference (that
for some of the accusations leveled at Rieu for allegedly turning the Iliad into a Victor
ere listening—and that’s
ny idea about the
the words were
ppear, it was organized
times, the single most
nce, the major tradition
uction of verse
poetical style as
y” (Carlyle, qu. in
ware that his comment
duced by his

ion of the Iliad must be

re familiar with long
enduring popularity
opriate for modern
lent readers rather than

poetry is (or can be)

ently, and (in my case at
ssages more frequently,
different visual
specially if the translator
d speeches), and that
page after page of right-
In addition, of course,
he reader that she is not
a frame of mind more
perience of reading
t may, in part, account
rian novel). What this
to offer a long narrative in the form of a poem in a traditional rhythm is to remind th
dealing with an entirely contemporary work; it is, if you like, a way of putting her into
receptive to an encounter with a past sensibility (especially if she already has some exp
traditional poetry). A prose narrative in itself tends to smooth out this difference (that
for some of the accusations leveled at Rieu for allegedly turning the Iliad into a Victor
amounts to one can sum up as follows: To translate the Iliad into prose is to invite the
novel or a historical romance; to translate the Iliad into poetry is to invite the reader t
a traditional English epic, and these two ways of reading are not necessarily the same.
that a poetic text is always preferable to a prose version, but it does mean that the dec
reader makes is not without consequences.

[To digress from Homer for a moment, one should note that there are a few works in w
(poetry or prose) is part of the content, a feature which should make the decision I hav
somewhat more complex. The best example which comes to mind is Lucretius, De Reru
something very rare in the experience of English readers—a long poem on a philosoph
subject. There has long been, it would seem, a decided preference among English trans
Lucretius in prose, perhaps in response to what readers are used to in treatises of this
understandable enough. However, Lucretius himself repeatedly calls attention to the f
with a poem and indicates that a very important part of his purpose is to fuse “obscur
with the charms of poetry (he uses the metaphor of rubbing honey around the rim of a
medicine). Hence, the decision to render his work in (often very wooden) prose would s
violation of the content.]

Back to Homer. Nowadays, since Lattimore’s translation (1951), the trend seems to ha
prose translations, and we now have a wealth of Iliads in English verse (the publicatio
version in 1987 came as something of a surprise to me, especially considering the resul
earlier prose version, also published by Penguin). I must say I applaud the trend, altho
put to offer a comprehensive justification for my preference if someone were to produc
prose version (in these matters it is always wise to be pragmatic and judge the adequac
exploring particular examples, rather than by writing such principles in stone and app

Then, of course, there’s the matter of the appropriate poetic form, particularly the rhy
lines. Here one basic choice is between hexameters and pentameters. The former is Ho
relatively uncommon in English verse and thus makes certain extra demands on the re
tradition of arguments among English poets, translators, and scholars about the suita
he reader that she is not
a frame of mind more
perience of reading
t may, in part, account
rian novel). What this
e reader to read it as a
to read it as one would
. None of this means
cision a translator or

which the form itself

ve been discussing
um Natura, which is
hical and scientific
slators to render
kind. That is
fact that we are dealing
re” and “difficult” ideas
a cup containing bitter
seem to me a major

ave swung away from

on of Hammond’s prose
lt is so inferior to Rieu’s
ough I would be hard
ce a startlingly good
cy of one’s principles by
plying them rigorously).

ythmic pattern of the

omer’s pattern, but it is
eader. There is a long
ability of the hexameter,
Then, of course, there’s the matter of the appropriate poetic form, particularly the rhy
lines. Here one basic choice is between hexameters and pentameters. The former is Ho
relatively uncommon in English verse and thus makes certain extra demands on the re
tradition of arguments among English poets, translators, and scholars about the suita
some people dismissing it completely on the ground that it never will be an English me
remarked on the “pestilent heresy of the English hexameter”) and others urging reader
suitable it is for certain features of Greek metre. The argument is, in my view, largely
sometimes interesting), because setting up a priori judgments about what will or will n
English verse is irrelevant: what matters is the pragmatic test of whether or not anyon
that the hexameter works as an English verse form suitable for translating Homer (an
attempts to render Homer in English hexameters are wretched enough, surely one can
translations which have succeeded very well).

The pentameter is, of course, the work horse of traditional English poetry and is thus i
to any reader familiar with the blank verse of Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, or an
Much depends here on how one wants the translation to register with the reader. Ever
the hexameter tends to be a heavier line, taking more time to read and working agains
familiarity with traditional verse, and thus it can lend a certain weight or gravitas to t
first translator of the Iliad into English used an even longer (and heavier) line of fourt

Achilles’ bane full wrath resound, O Goddesse, that imposd

Infinite sorrowes on the Greekes, and many brave soules losd
From breasts Heroique sent from farre, to that invisible cave
That no light comforts; and their lims to dogs and vultures gave.
To all which Jove’s will gave effect; from whom first strife begunne
Betwixt Atrides, king of men, and Thetis’ godlike Sonne.

The pentameter obviously makes it possible for the reader to move through the poem
important element in a work which contains so many impassioned speeches). So to som
involves making a decision between the relative importance of weight and speed or be
familiarity. A comparison of Fagles’ hexameters with Fitzgerald’s pentameters makes
enough. Prima facie, the most successful and popular pentameter translations are thos
poem which does not demand quite the gravitas of the Iliad, at least in the view of ma

Parenthetically, I must confess in the case of my own efforts at translating Homer this
ythmic pattern of the
omer’s pattern, but it is
eader. There is a long
ability of the hexameter,
eter (Lord Derby
rs to consider how
pointless (although
not work as a metre in
ne has demonstrated
nd even if many of the
n point to some modern

immediately accessible
ny number of others.
rything else being equal,
st a English reader’s
the poem. Chapman, the
teen syllables:

more quickly (an

me extent the decision
etween strangeness and
this point clearly
se of the Odyssey, a
any readers.

s decision was difficult

familiarity. A comparison of Fagles’ hexameters with Fitzgerald’s pentameters makes
enough. Prima facie, the most successful and popular pentameter translations are thos
poem which does not demand quite the gravitas of the Iliad, at least in the view of ma

Parenthetically, I must confess in the case of my own efforts at translating Homer this
to make (particularly since I admire both Fagles’ and Fitzgerald’s translations), so I en
hexameters (or a roughly 12-syllable line) for the narrative and a pentameter (or a rou
for the speeches (where the shorter line is, in my view, much more appropriate, especia
of Shakespeare on the English reader’s imaginative response to dramatic utterances).
out, a minor precedent for such changes in the basic verse form:

It remains only to add, that the student of Homer's Odyssey will find much to ass
amusing and suggestive translations which the late Dr. Maginn gave to the publi
in the pages of Fraser's Magazine, and afterwards in a collective volume. They ar
variety of metre; but the several metres chosen are admirably suited to their resp
those who once read them will not fail to remember them. In fact, we do not kno
calculated than that of Dr. Maginn to inspire a clever youth with a love of the H
our own part we are not sure that the most perfect plan of translating Homer wo
blank verse for the narrative, and to vary the monotony of its flow by the use of v
Maginn, according to the subject, in the speeches and other episodes. (The Gentl
January-June 1866)

A number of translators of Homer have felt obliged to base their translation on some
English verse forms (e.g., Spenserian stanzas) or on their own vision of what somethin
verse form might look like when adapted for Homer. These efforts, which, so far as I c
successful, can produce results which readers find extremely odd, none more so than th
F. W. Newman, younger brother of the famous Cardinal Newman (although the contin
modern American poet to translate the entire Iliad as one long sequence of sonnets co
the hope there is that the unusual verse form will put the reader’s imagination in a fra
suited to dealing with a long, traditional poem. In my case, the effect is almost always
strangeness in the basic verse form makes the poem too remote, too odd, too idiosyncr
would like a rich sampling of the different attempts to translate Homer into English s
following link: Published English Translations of Homer).

TRUDITTORI TRADITORI
 this point clearly
se of the Odyssey, a
any readers.

s decision was difficult

nded up using both:
ughly 10-syllable line)
ally given the influence
There is, I later found

sist him in the very

ic many years ago; first
re in every possible
pective subjects, and
ow a book better
Homeric poems; and for
ould not be to employ
various metres, like Dr.
leman’s Magazine,

other traditional
ng like a traditional
can tell, are rarely
he astonishing efforts of
nuing efforts of a
omes close). Presumably
ame of mind better
s the reverse—the
ratic (any reader who
should consult the
strangeness in the basic verse form makes the poem too remote, too odd, too idiosyncr
would like a rich sampling of the different attempts to translate Homer into English s
following link: Published English Translations of Homer).

TRUDITTORI TRADITORI

In dealing with the matter of evaluating translations, Matthew Arnold introduced the
financial exchange (112). From a translation we want some close attention paid to an
even if there are no posted rules, there’s a limit to what we will accept by way of tamp
rate. Christopher Logue’s War Music, for example, is a marvellously poetic modern “re
19 of the Iliad, and no teacher of the epic would fail to recommend the work to his stu
hardly qualifies as a fair exchange for the Homeric text, and few readers, if any, excep
himself, would consider it a translation.

Sometimes I like to think of the text as a trampoline and the translator as someone wh
along it. His task is to remain graceful and agile, while keeping his feet in frequent co
is permitted the occasional leap or somersault, a captivating flourish, but should not l
take him too far from the mesh for too long. Decisions about the liberty he has to per
are best left to the consensus of readers (who will, of course, differ among themselves).

This metaphor is useful because it reminds me that those who try to remain doggedly f
try, that is, to walk firmly along the mesh step by step, often (perhaps generally) tend t
ungainly fashion. The best example that comes to mind is Hammond’s prose, which ne
dogged contact with the text and turns the experience of reading the Iliad into an unga
perhaps to someone seeking a convenient crib for the Greek text, but hardly a stirring
magnificent poem. There’s the constant flavour of an Anglice reddenda exercise in wh
English is consistently sacrificed for scrupulous fidelity to the Greek: “. . . his was the b
that his heart pressed him to feed full to Ares . . .” and so on. The effect is bad enough
disastrous in the speeches, which, as a result, lack any colloquial rhythm that might co
particular (and strong) feelings are engaged: “. . . even if I should resent it and try to re
can achieve nothing by resentment, as you are far the stronger”(3). And similar objecti
about Lattimore’s desire to remain faithful to Homer: “to give a rendering of the Iliad
meaning of the Greek in a speed and rhythm analogous to the speed and rhythm I find
(Lattimore 55)(4).
ratic (any reader who
should consult the

useful metaphor of a
exact reckoning, and,
pering with the exchange
endition” of Books 16 to
udents. But the book
pt perhaps Logue

ho is trying to move
ontact with the mesh. He
let his desire to perform
rform such manoeuvres
.

faithful to the text, who

to move in a very
ever departs from a
ainly plod, useful
rendition of a
hich the fluency of the
blood more than any
h in the descriptions but
onvey the sense that
efuse you their sack, I
ions have been made
d which will convey the
d in the original”
about Lattimore’s desire to remain faithful to Homer: “to give a rendering of the Iliad
meaning of the Greek in a speed and rhythm analogous to the speed and rhythm I find
(Lattimore 55)(4).

Modern traditions in translation tend to emphasize fidelity to original texts (in marked
styles in some earlier centuries when the emphasis was much more on the translator’s
ability to display his own poetical skills over and above any close adherence to the orig
feature of Chapman’s Iliad). The Arrowsmith translations of Aristophanes are some o
this old tendency in modern translations of classic works. However, such frequent and
vaulting above the text is uncommon in recent translations of Homer. That said, many
excoriated Fitzgerald for the liberties he takes with the Homer’s text (as far as I can te
is directed at his work more than at the efforts of any other modern translator of Hom
be a connection between such “betrayals” of Homer and the most outstanding quality
translation, its nuanced lyric quality, which in many places is far superior as English p
translation available. And, of course, for most modern readers of an English text of th
fidelity is not a particularly important issue, since they bring no knowledge of Homeric
experience.

This notion of “fidelity” to Homer leads some translators to the extremely odd habit o
translation a line-by-line affair, often with the attempt to keep the same words on the
which started, as far as I can tell, with the translation by T. S. Brandeth in 1846), and,
offering what the translators claim is an English approximation of the Greek metre (a
translation) and sometimes even a Greek “sound.” Now, I understand why a translato
can pull feats like these off simply as a challenge, but I’ve never understood what thes
supposed to add to the English translation. Brandeth himself confessed that this requi
“no great merit” but claimed that it had prevented him from adding anything superflu
translation. There’s no great disadvantage in such a notion of fidelity, I suppose, prov
unnecessary awkwardness in the English style. Given that it almost always does, it baf
would seek to impose on English verse the requirements of Greek metre or sound. Sinc
Greek metre in classical poetry are so very different from the principles of traditional
poetry, such a practice simply imposes on the English a rule which virtually guarantee
unidiomatic language. And this point is all the more relevant if the translator claims t
the poem much easier to recite in the appropriate manner so that we are, in effect, as
put about Merrill’s Odyssey, listening to the voice of Homer.
d which will convey the
d in the original”

d contrast to translation
performance, on his
ginal, a prominent
of the best examples of
d sometimes sustained
y scholars have
ell, criticism of this sort
mer), but there may well
of Fitzgerald’s
poetry to any other
he Iliad scrupulous
c Greek to the

of making their
same lines (a tradition
in extreme cases,
a homometrical
or might like to see if he
se demands are
irement of the style had
uous to the
vided it does not lead to
ffles me why anyone
ce the principles of
metres of English
es some very odd
that this practice makes
one gushing reviewer
poetry, such a practice simply imposes on the English a rule which virtually guarantee
unidiomatic language. And this point is all the more relevant if the translator claims t
the poem much easier to recite in the appropriate manner so that we are, in effect, as
put about Merrill’s Odyssey, listening to the voice of Homer.

Scholars often greet with rapture some English translation which, they claim, matches
rhythm of the Greek or both (e.g., the translations of Lattimore, Merrill, and McCrorie
want the sound and rhythm of the Greek, then I’ll read the Greek. Why put up with th
effects of an attempt to “translate” those qualities into another language? And if I don
should I have to wade through an English style which sounds unnatural (often rhythm
awkward and stuffed with unnecessary words in an odd order)? What possible merit is
attempts? Those who might wish to point to the great popularity of Lattimore’s transl
such isometric translations can succeed need to explore carefully what else Lattimore i
poetry to render Homer so vividly to so many readers, and a close inspection of Lattim
quickly enough that his notion of “isometric” does not require him to follow Greek me
scrupulously.

I don’t mean to belabour this point, but given the emphasis in some recent translation
matching or attempting to match the “sound” of the Greek, a few more remarks may b
mean by the phrase “sounding like the Greek”? Does this mean that the English shoul
the Greek text as we teach students to recite it? Or does it mean that the English shou
an original recitation (complete with music), as best we can tell, would have sounded?
about the first of these answers (since teaching methods vary), and we have no reason
however we teach the recitation of Homer in class, the results bear any similarity to an
to that original recitation, here again we have no sure idea what that sounded like, bu
it would have been something very much stranger than anything we are used to in Eng
point, try listening to a recent attempt to recreate a “rhapsodic” recitation of Homer in
musical accompaniment, and ask yourself what connection this could possibly have to
recited in English (if you would like to try that now, you might wish to use the followin

Or does “sounding like the Greek” really mean “sounding the way we would like Home
readers bring such expectations to a long traditional poem (clearly Matthew Arnold di
agreement whatsoever among them. Many scholars like something that reminds them
readers prefer an Arthurian, Miltonic, or Biblical flavouring (something old, in any ca
“rhetorical” effects to beef up the English (like the alliteration in Fagles) or syntactica
Lattimore) to bring out the fact that this is an old poem written in a foreign language;
es some very odd
that this practice makes
one gushing reviewer

s the sound or the

e, for example). But if I
he often deleterious
n’t know the Greek, why
mically and syntactically
s there is such strange
lations as evidence that
is doing in his English
more’s verse reveals
etre or sound very

ns on the importance of
be in order.What do we
ld sound something like
uld sound something like
There is no agreement
to suppose that,
n original recitation. As
ut we can be certain that
glish. To appreciate this
n Greek, complete with
o anything written or
ng link: Homer recital).

er to sound”? Many
id), and there is no
of the Greek; other
ase). Some want
al awkwardness (as in
; others prefer a modern
readers bring such expectations to a long traditional poem (clearly Matthew Arnold di
agreement whatsoever among them. Many scholars like something that reminds them
readers prefer an Arthurian, Miltonic, or Biblical flavouring (something old, in any ca
“rhetorical” effects to beef up the English (like the alliteration in Fagles) or syntactica
Lattimore) to bring out the fact that this is an old poem written in a foreign language;
colloquial prose, even with injections of contemporary slang (as in Lombardo). So in a
demonstrated problems which come from “sounding like the Greek” we have to deal w
don’t really agree what that means.

In recent years translators have been emphasizing how their version is suitable for pub
there’s a growing market for Homer on CDs or available as sound recordings over the
important criterion, especially given the fact that so much of Homer’s epics are speech
passionate utterances), and one might well set down as an important initial test of any
question, “Does this rendition of Homer produce verse and especially dramatic speech
they are something someone might actually say?” If it does not, if, that is, the English
padded or flat, then no appeals to this or that sound quality of the original Greek is m
translation does not work in English, then there’s something seriously wrong with it.

Sometimes I get the sense that there is a decidedly odd group of scholarly readers out t
read the English translation, wish for some reason or other to be reminded of the soun
matter how the efforts to please them in this matter may vitiate the imaginative vitali
of the English verse (that this group exists seems clear enough from the following rem
Wither’s preface to his translation of the Odyssey in 1869: “The aim of this translation
many passages it is almost line for line, and even word for word with the original; so t
acquainted with the Greek this version will readily suggest the very words of the divine
himself”). The best response to such folk is probably the following passage from Chap

Custome hath made even th’ablest Agents erre

In these translations: all so much apply
Their paines and cunnings word for word to render
Their patient Authors, when they may as well
Make fish with fowle, Camels with Whales engender,
Or their tongues’ speech in other mouths compell.

DICTION
 id), and there is no
of the Greek; other
ase). Some want
al awkwardness (as in
; others prefer a modern
addition to the
with the fact that we

blic recitation (and

e Internet). This is an
hes (often intensely
y translation the
hes which sound as if
sounds awkward or
much help. If the

there who, when they

nd of the Greek, no
ity and often the clarity
mark by Lovelace Bigge-
n is to be literal. In
that to persons well
e old bard
pman:
 Their patient Authors, when they may as well
Make fish with fowle, Camels with Whales engender,
Or their tongues’ speech in other mouths compell.

DICTION

The single most important decision any translator (or any reader selecting a translatio
the complex question of diction, that is, the English idiom basic to the style of the tran
and dislikes are more clearly shaped by this aspect of a translation than by any other f
surprisingly, the issues arising from English diction generate the fiercest arguments. Th
suppose, is declare one’s preferences and wait for a response

Given that the purpose of a modern translation of the Iliad is to reach and to engage
imaginations of its readers, I have a distinct preference for a fluent modern idiom in t
translation. Hence, I have great difficulty in reading the efforts of those who want to o
an olde worlde vocabulary: “Ah me, my child, why reared I thee, cursed in my motherh
hadst been left tearless and griefless amid the ships, seeing thy lot is very brief and end
but now art thou made short-lived alike and lamentable beyond all men; in an evil ho
halls” (Lang, Leaf, and Myers). Does this Babylonian dialect sound like anything anyo
How is a modern reader supposed to react to this fustian? Well, one common response
language encourages readers to think of the Iliad as some sort of romantic historical f
Mille reworking of the eternally popular Medieval adventure, exciting but quaint and
translators have clearly worked to create this effect by using Gothic script for the head
something that puts the reader into an Arthurian or Biblical frame of mind).

Now, it is true that an artificially aged diction seems to strike a chord with many conte
doubt the enduring popularity of Arthurian romance has contributed a lot to that). Bu
just how much a language like this is, as it were, protecting the readers from recognizin
connections between the Iliad and their own lives (a defense which, to judge from the h
the Trojan War, has always been popular). This issue is not simply a matter of style. T
poem also shapes its content, in this case turning it into something essentially irreleva
To use the language of old stories about ancient Christian chivalry (in Malory, for exa
commonly, to attempt (often rather lamely, as in the above example) to re-create a fac
language, is to invite the reader to see the Iliad as belonging to that tradition. It strike
such an artificial idiom is an attempt to remind us of the strangeness of an ancient po
the reverse. The language is not challengingly strange but consolingly quaint, a conven
on) must make concerns
nslation. People’s likes
factor, and, not
he best one can do, I

the contemporary
the language of the
offer Homer up to me in
hood? Would thou
dureth no long while;
our I bore thee in our
one would actually say?
e might be that this
fantasy, a run-of-de-
harmless (a number of
ding of the first book,

emporary readers (no

ut one has to wonder
ng the immediate
history of treatments of
The basic idiom of the
ant to the modern world.
ample), or, more
csimile of such a
es me that if the use of
oem, the effect is exactly
ntional way to depict
To use the language of old stories about ancient Christian chivalry (in Malory, for exa
commonly, to attempt (often rather lamely, as in the above example) to re-create a fac
language, is to invite the reader to see the Iliad as belonging to that tradition. It strike
such an artificial idiom is an attempt to remind us of the strangeness of an ancient po
the reverse. The language is not challengingly strange but consolingly quaint, a conven
historical romance. For a poem in which a valiant monarch on a mighty steed smiteth
cuirass and lays him low in order to save the damsel is not the same as poem in which
his enemy on a powerful horse through body armour and slaughters him in order to sa

It may be that this habit of wanting artificially to age the Iliad with a particular idiom
traditions stems, in part, from the misleading notion handed down to us from Matthew
others) that the translator has a responsibility to remember that Homer “is also, and a
“the Iliad has a great master’s genuine stamp . . . the grand style” (103, 104). But the id
through the grand style is best pursued through a quaint re-invented quasi-medieval d
misguided. The best response to such a notion is probably Lattimore’s comment: “I do
quality to be directly striven for; you must write as well as you can, and then see, or let
not the result is noble” (55). Furthermore, any historicist defense of such an idiom is m
no way reliably to ascertain the level of Homer’s original diction in relation to the lan
Thus, as Martin Mueller has pointed out, Arnold’s criterion reflects, not a legitimate d
poem, but his own prejudices about what epics ought to sound like.

Inserting obvious reminders of a language from the past can be a tricky business, and
respond in different ways. Any English translator of Homer has a number of idioms av
beyond Malory—Spenser, Shakespeare, the King James Bible, and Milton being the m
translators are not slow to draw from that tradition. Fagles, for example, likes to inser
occasional reminders of older times and earlier poets at the expense of a fluent moder
body,” “a bowyer good with goat horn,” “armoured in shamelessness,” “Achaean batta
forth. More seriously perhaps, he adopts the alliterative thump of Sir Gawain and the
at times becomes so frequent and over-emphatic that one learns to anticipate it, and t
preempt the sense: “As a burly farmhand wielding a whetted ax,/ chopping a field-ran
horns,/ hacks through its whole hump and the beast heaves up . . .” or “. . . belching bl
fury, never shaken,/ builds inside their chests though their glutted bellies burst.” Here,
adoption of an old style suitable for dramatic recitation long ago becomes something
the modern reader. A little more than a little of this is much too much. My antipathy t
led me in my own translation even to eschew almost totally the vocabulary of ancient
ample), or, more
csimile of such a
es me that if the use of
oem, the effect is exactly
ntional way to depict
h his foe through a
h a brave leader strikes
ave the woman.

m drawn from chivalric

w Arnold (among
above all, noble,” that
dea that nobility
diction is clearly
o not think nobility is a
t others see, whether or
misplaced, since there is
nguage of his own time.
demand arising from the

different readers will

vailable above and
most obvious—and many
rt into his text
rn idiom: “I’ll roil his
alions ceaseless,” and so
Green Knight, which
thus the sound begins to
nging bull behind the
loody meat, but the
, in my case at least, the
of an impediment to
to such artificial ageing
and medieval armour
fury, never shaken,/ builds inside their chests though their glutted bellies burst.” Here,
adoption of an old style suitable for dramatic recitation long ago becomes something
the modern reader. A little more than a little of this is much too much. My antipathy t
led me in my own translation even to eschew almost totally the vocabulary of ancient
and weapons (cuirass, greaves, javelin, helm, lance, targe, buckler, and so on).

One intriguing aspect of diction is the way the translator handles the names of people
think, long past the time when using Latin equivalents for the names of Greek gods is
thing, too. I’m never quite sure why that particular tradition lasted as long as it did. P
something to do with an attempt to inculcate sturdy Roman virtues in public school bo
continuing an old tradition of referring to pagan gods. What’s interesting here is the w
translators either stick with well-established forms or use alternative spellings to remin
alien Greekness of the original: Achilles, Achilleus, Akhilleus, and so on. Fitzgerald pu
the names to something of an extreme (with unusual spelling and accents of various k
has the (to me pleasing) effect of making the names (and the people they indicate) mo
strange. This quality helps to offset the easier familiarity with his pentameter verse fo
sure if that’s his intention). However, the habit does cause problems for student reade
chance to become familiar with the more common names (e.g., Ajax, Clytaemnestra, a

PARNASSUS AND BEYOND

Quite apart from the various matters discussed above, assessing different translations
quality of the English poetry is a notoriously subjective task, bound to generate strong
any argument on behalf of a particular text can be carried out persuasively only by a v
comparative look at particular examples, something beyond the scope of this essay, alt
worth, my view is that if we’re comparing modern translations only on the basis of the
English poetry, without taking anything else into consideration, then Fitzgerald’s texts
available, a claim which does not deny that one might still have a good reason for cho

Whether one agrees with that assessment or not, let me offer at least one criterion tha
judgment. Long narrative poems are rarely, if ever, totally even in their poetic quality.
a basic relatively uninspired style which carries the narrative and then, when inspiratio
verse into hitherto unexplored realms of truly moving poetry for a while, before settlin
regular style. The greatness of a poem arises, in large part, out of the frequency and th
quite short) transcendent passages when, to use Gerard Manley Hopkins’ useful analo
, in my case at least, the
of an impediment to
to such artificial ageing
and medieval armour

e and places. We are, I

acceptable, and a good
Perhaps it had
oys or was simply
way in which different
nd the reader of the
ushes the foreignness of
kinds), a practice which
ore remote and
orm (although I’m not
ers and denies them the
and so on).

s on the basis of the

g disagreements. And
very detailed
though, for what it’s
e quality of the result as
s are clearly the best
oosing a rival version.

at underlies my
. The author settles into
on strikes, launches his
ng down again into the
he power of these (often
ogy, the poetry of
a basic relatively uninspired style which carries the narrative and then, when inspiratio
verse into hitherto unexplored realms of truly moving poetry for a while, before settlin
regular style. The greatness of a poem arises, in large part, out of the frequency and th
quite short) transcendent passages when, to use Gerard Manley Hopkins’ useful analo
inspiration seizes us and lifts us high above the Castalian or Parnassian plains (154). S
are quite familiar to readers of, say, Milton’s Paradise Lost or Wordsworth’s Prelude, o
well, and they obviously present a particularly daunting challenge to the translator.(5)
convey these supercharged moments to his readers (e.g., Achilles’ speech to Lycaon, Ac
news that Patroclus has died, the meeting of Achilles and Priam, and so on)?

Any comparative evaluation of different translations needs to consider this question, b

in the Iliad are the most powerful moments in the poem, the single most important rea
vitality. One of my reasons for liking Fitzgerald’s translation so much is that his own
gifts enable him to meet this particular challenge better than any other modern transl
(Hammond, in particular) remain as flat and uninspired in these passages as in the res

APPARATUS CRITICUS

One final (and obvious) point, not strictly germane to the quality of a translation: mod
students, often expect (and require) some critical apparatus along with the text (an int
glossary, maps, and so on). Here the options range from the Doubleday paperback of
which is remarkably deficient in any such assistance to, at the other extreme, Fagles’ tr
an excellent introduction (by Bernard Knox), the finest short introduction to the Iliad
pages of maps, twelve pages of notes, a bibliography, and a useful glossary. I can well
selecting Fagles over other possibilities largely on the basis of this supplementary mate
textbook for school use).

CONCLUDING REMARKS

What all this adds up to is, I would suggest, the idea that we should more or less aban
of what a translation must do or of what will or will not work in an English Homer an
pragmatically, judging them by their results. Lattimore got it right when he stated that
well as one can (following whatever principles one thinks appropriate) and then let th
basis of the results. In this process, we might do well, too, to remember Dr. Johnson’s d
Milton”) that no precedents can justify absurdities—scholarly appeals to the character
 on strikes, launches his
ng down again into the
he power of these (often
ogy, the poetry of
Such moments, which
occur in the Iliad as
) How well do his efforts
chilles’ response to the

because such passages

ason for its continuing
considerable poetic
lation. Other translators
st of the translation.

dern readers, especially

troduction perhaps, a
Fitzgerald’s translation
ranslation, which has
available anywhere, six
l understand someone’s
erial (especially as a

ndon all a priori notions

nd treat evaluations
t one has to write as
he readers decide on the
dictum (in the “Life of
ristics of Greek metre or
of what a translation must do or of what will or will not work in an English Homer an
pragmatically, judging them by their results. Lattimore got it right when he stated that
well as one can (following whatever principles one thinks appropriate) and then let th
basis of the results. In this process, we might do well, too, to remember Dr. Johnson’s d
Milton”) that no precedents can justify absurdities—scholarly appeals to the character
to the traditions of English folk songs, for example, are no defense against a wretched
interferes with the reader’s imaginative response to the English poetry. If we must hav
ourselves to the demands that the translation should be more or less faithful to literal
and that the English poetry should have the energy, clarity, and imaginative power we
poetry. Even with those two “rules” in place, we will still leave plenty of room for ener

NOTES

(1) Take, for example, a statement like the following (made by Andre Michalopoulos):
surpassed, or ever will surpassthe magnificent Victorian translation of Leaf, Lang, and
the Iliad . . .” (6, emphasis added) or Fitzgerald’s comment on Lattimore: “[the transla
long as Pope’s for in its way it is quite as solidly distinguished” (“Heroic Poems” 699). [

(2) If we push the notion of the “impossibility” of a translation, we can soon reach the
reading of traditional poetry (in English or otherwise) is impossible, simply because we
ourselves the sensitivity to a vocabulary we no longer use or an intimate emotional fam
situation for which the original was produced. In a sense, all such reading is a “transla
old and strange into something more immediately accessible (and that’s as true of Sha
Homer). This general observation holds even if we have very accurate and complete fa
about that traditional vocabulary and situation. Those who read the Iliad in Greek or
themselves in Greek are not necessarily any closer to the “real” Homer (whatever that
reading an English translation. The fact that they think they are will certainly make th
poem different from reading it in English and may well enhance their enjoyment of it,
to the original experience of the ancient warrior leaders listening to a professional bar
the audience at those odd productions of Shakespeare which seek to replicate his comp
and pronunciation is to the Elizabethan audience way back when. For it’s not just a m
the original, as Boswell claims; more important than that is the reader’s sensitivity, his
generally, and that will be inevitably shaped by his reading habits and his contempora
the ways that contemporary culture has or has not educated him to read or recite old p

(3) Of course, the problem here may not stem solely (or even principally) from Hammo
 nd treat evaluations
t one has to write as
he readers decide on the
dictum (in the “Life of
ristics of Greek metre or
d English style which
ve rules, then let’s limit
l sense of Homer’s text
e demand of our own
rgetic arguments.

“no translation has

d Myers for
ation] would survive as
[Back to Text]

e conclusion that all

e cannot recreate in
miliarity with the
ation” from something
akespeare as it is of
actual information
r who recite it to
means) than the person
heir experience of the
, but they are no closer
rd recite the Iliad than
pany’s stage conditions
matter of the “tone” of
s response to tone
ary culture, including
poems. [Back to Text]

ond’s scrupulous fidelity

the original, as Boswell claims; more important than that is the reader’s sensitivity, his
generally, and that will be inevitably shaped by his reading habits and his contempora
the ways that contemporary culture has or has not educated him to read or recite old p

(3) Of course, the problem here may not stem solely (or even principally) from Hammo
to the Greek, for his prose seems at times to indicate an acute insensitivity to modern
that a translator who repeatedly has Homeric characters use the word “blatherskate” m
or unable to make any concessions to the idiom of his readers. [Back to Text]

(4) One prominent reviewer of Lattimore castigated his style, not unfairly, for being fu
mistranslations, obscurities, or outrages to the English language” (Knopff 275). [Back

(5) This notion of a Parnassian style (not to be confused with the Parnassian school of
inspired moments is useful in any analysis of a long narrative (not simply in poetry). O
that, while it is relatively easy to parody the basic style (and there is no shortage of pa
Parnassian), one cannot do so with the inspired parts, where the genius of the artist is
is useful for reminding us that the greatness of a work does not always (or even usually
unvaryingly high quality of the style and that some works of great genius are often wri
very bad style (the most obvious example that comes to mind of this point is Moby Dic
critics, including myself, would offer up Paradise Lost as an equally good example). [B

[For the Table of Contents of the series of essays and an Introductory Comment outlin
series, please use the following link: Essays on Homer’s Iliad.]
s response to tone
ary culture, including
poems. [Back to Text]

ond’s scrupulous fidelity

English. One suspects
may well be unwilling

ull of “misprints,
to Text]

f poetry) punctuated by
One key notion here is
arodies of Homer’s
fully at work. The idea
y) reside in the
itten, in large part, in a
ck, although many
Back to Text]

ning the purpose of the