soarinsugar-homerblog

[soarinsugar-homerblog]

CHRISTMAS HAULLL

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Nothing much to add here. ALL of this. I’m on the verge of blowing a fuse with this shit.

All of this can be easily found online for free. There are plenty of free audiobooks out there if you don’t want to or have time to read. There’s a reason these epics and plays are still read and studied to this day by academics and the average person alike: they’re wonderful and enjoyable works of literature.

And PLEASE stop disrespecting Greek culture by applying your modern values to ancient literature and mythology. This is NOT a fandom. This is a mythology that holds great significance to Greek history and culture. Please treat it as such.

New rule. Read the goddamn source material before you talk about it. PLEASE.

Please just read the fucking Odyssey before you make posts about the actual thing. Read the Iliad. Watch productions of the plays.

I am on my hands and knees here, I’m like Franky Valli I’m beggin’! I’m begging!!!!

It isn’t hard. There are really accessible translations for free. I post links really regularly. Just PLEASE read the actual epics before you start talking I cannot keep living with this insane pop cultural transmutation of misinformation. The adaptations are cool but I’m literally on my hands and knees the actual source material is fantastic guys the Odyssey is good it’s insane Telemachus is a fatherless brat and a bastard the whole time, he’s hilarious. pLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU READ THE BOOKS

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“Odysseus ripped off his rags. Now naked, / he leapt upon the threshold with his bow / and quiverfull of arrows, which he tipped / out in a rush before his feet, and spoke.

“‘Playtime is over. I will shoot again, / towards another mark no man has hit. / Apollo, may I manage it!’

“He aimed / his deadly arrow at Antinous. / The young man sat there, just about to lift / his golden goblet, swirling wine around, / ready to drink. He had no thought of death. / How could he? Who would think a single man, / among so many banqueters, would dare / to risk dark death, however strong he was? / Odysseus aimed at his throat, then shot. / The point pierced all the way through his soft neck. / He flopped down to the side and his cup slipped / out of his hand. A double pipe of blood / gushed from his nostrils. His foot twitched and knocked / the table down; food scattered on the ground. / The bread and roasted meat were soiled with blood. / Seeing him fall, the suitors, in an uproar, / with shouts that filled the hall, jumped up and rushed / to search around by all the thick stone walls / for shields or spears to grab—but there were none. / They angrily rebuked Odysseus.”

Homer. The Odyssey. Translated by Emily Wilson, Norton, 2018.

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THIS. I should NOT need to specify that I mean The Odyssey when I search up characters. That should be the DEFAULT. It’s the damn retellings that one should need to specify, not the other way around! I should be able to search up ‘Odysseus’ and get MYTHOLOGICAL Odysseus, NOT EPIC Odysseus. I should NOT need to tag ‘DO NOT TAG AS EPIC: THE MUSICAL’ in all caps on every single one of my posts.

I’m honestly so done with retellings at this point. Practically every single one is a one-dimensional, inaccurate adaptation that strips every bit of nuance and depth out of the original myth, and then you have to deal with it becoming extremely popular and seeing it everywhere until you’re swimming in an ocean of retelling posts trying to pick out a single thing about the original. It’s beyond frustrating.

being very strong and not blocking the iliad and odyssey tags but we are getting dangerously close to miku binder odysseus territory

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Trying to get my cat Snowball to read The Odyssey. He… uh. He doesn’t seem to be interested. Now he’s glaring at me.

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LOOK MA I’M FAMOUS

Seriously though this is such an interesting comparison! Hunger is truly an insane driving force, one that can completely strip someone of their morals and logical sense when it comes down to life or death. It reminds me of the several cases there have been of groups of people who are struck with famine eventually resorting to cannibalism for survival, even when their culture considers it immoral and inhumane. We can try all our lives to be moral and good people, but when we are forced to desperation we struggle between our moral drive to do what we believe right and our evolutionary drive to live, which we see clearly outlined in this episode of the men’s will to not anger the gods and get home be tempted by their will to live. Our humanity and morality is greatly tested by our evolutionary instinct to survive.

It also makes me think of the theme of civility vs. savagery in the epic, especially when it comes to religion and fearing the gods. Earlier in Odysseus’ travels, when he speaks of his encounter with Polyphemus, he remarks on how the Cyclopes are lawless and do not fear Zeus nor respect the sacred laws of xenia. And this is why Odysseus refers to him as a brute or a savage, because not only does he eat Odysseus’ men in yet another gruesome visual, but to him what classifies civility is the respect of the gods and the respect of xenia. In a similar situation at the end of the book when Odysseus slaughters the suitors, he calls them out for not only flirting with his wife or ravishing his household, but for not respecting the gods and violating laws of xenia. And then coming back to Helios’ cattle, Odysseus’ men are killed for their offense of not respecting the gods by eating these scared animals. The second Odysseus comes back and realizes what they’ve done, he knows they’re doomed, because he knows firsthand the gods do not take insults to their authority lightly, and he knows they are powerful forces that are not to be messed with.

And that then brings me to what you brought up in the beginning about how we can tell these cows are sacred, by the fact that they seem to be undead, by the fact that the still make noise and move in death- something that is obviously completely unnatural and straight-up terrifying. I feel it also highlights the sheer power of the gods and kind of their almost uncanny presence in the epic and Greek mythology in general, as well as the fear that they will exact revenge on those who defy them. In appearance, they seem human, but there is always something not human about them, something that lets you know you are not dealing with a mortal. My favorite example is this little detail about Athena in Book 16 after Eumaeus leaves to tell Penelope her son has returned:

“Approaching, closer, now she appeared a woman,

beautiful, tall and skilled in weaving lovely things.

Just at the shelter’s door she stopped, visible to Odysseus

but Telemachus could not see her, sense her there-

the gods don’t show themselves to every man alive.

Odysseus saw her, so did the dogs; no barking now,

they whimpered, cringing away in terror through the yard.”

(16. 176-184, Robert Fagles trans.)

These are the same dogs that nearly ripped Odysseus to shreds earlier when he first stumbled up to Eumaeus’ hut, who the swineherd specifically says would have killed him, but here they are, whimpering and terrified of the goddess. She looks to be a normal woman, but the dogs can tell that she is not human, kind of like how people who believe in the paranormal say that animals are more sensitive to paranormal activity than humans, hence why your dog might stare and growl at a seemingly empty corner of the room. There’s something unnerving about Athena’s very presence, and I believe that it highlights just how powerful the gods are- beings that can be benevolent or malevolent depending on your standing with them. A constant reminder to mortals to respect the gods, and an extra terror to Odysseus when he realizes the gods are not going to take his crew’s killing of the scared cattle well!

And yes the scene with Scylla is honestly just terrifying! I know I already said this in my reply to you, but the very idea of that visual is nightmare fuel! It’s so quick that Odysseus doesn’t even have time to process what happened, and it’s even more disturbing considering he was on-guard and waiting for her to appear! Then she just comes out of nowhere and before he can do anything it’s already too late, and he can only watch and listen as his crew members scream his name and are devoured. I can definitely see why THIS in particular was his most heart-wrenching moment! (And coming from Odysseus, that says a lot! My man has seen some messed-up shit!)

Haha thanks for the mention and awesome analysis! Now I kinda want to illustrate something from the Helios’ cattle scene… hmmm… I shall ponder within my art cave…

The Cattle of Helios Hyperion and Skylla: The animalistic cry for survival (An Odyssey Analysis)

So it has been quite some time since the last time I wrote an analysis on the Odyssey and after I saw some posts by @soarinsugar-homerblog I decided it was about time I wrote one more! This time on the last and fateful moment of the lives of the crew; the sacred cattle of Helios.

Buckle up and bear with me the ride will be wild and long!

So what is the thing that truly shows the divinity of the animals? Was it their godly appearance? Was it the invisible to human eye servants that led them to their grazing spot? Or was it maybe their location and the protection of Helios for them? All of the above are right. However what if the reason behind it was even more profound, even more horrifying than what catches the eye? In my opinion THIS is the true reason and that gives off the most brutal scene in that part of the Odyssey, brutal enough for Odysseus to describe it so thoroughly:

The skin slowly crawled upon the spits and both the roasted and the raw meats would bellow loudly as if they were actual voices

(Translation by me)

Honestly only one word can describe it;

Grotesque!

The scene is nothing less but an absolute grotesque image in the eyes of Odysseus where the meat of the animals seems to gain life and his companions roasting and eating them while Odysseus watches in horror. His men are roasting the meat having a small feast. The scene seems to Odysseus even more horrifying by the fact that his men couldn't even offer a proper sacrifice to the gods (water instead of wine, leaves instead of barley etc).

However why is it so difficult to watch? Is it perhaps that the memories of war awaken inside him and he remembers the brutalities he both saw and caused? Possible but if I may, there is one scene that predates this one and is equally brutal as this specific image. Yet another image that Odysseus describes so thoroughly that might have made some stomachs turn at Homer's time; another scene that remained engraved in his mind forever. It is no other that the Skylla scene!

And Skylla from her cave grabbed out of my ship my strongest six men in arms and body strength and both me and my comrades as we looked up, we could see their arms and legs emerging as they waved them frenzily calling my name in screams till the last moment in their grieving heart

(Translation by me)

And do we think this was brutal enough? Then we must think again for next Odysseus gives us the most specific and absolutely horrendous description in regards to Skylla's feast.

And just like the fisherman upon the tall rock casts his rod with bait to lure the small fishes with food and throws out in the sea the horn of an ox and then he reels in the flopping fish ashore and when he has them, throws them upon the stone; in such a manner she devoured them at the entrance of her cave making screeching sounds and they were waving their arms towards me, struggling in that deadly battle and that was the most lamentable sight we all saw with our own eyes of all I have suffered upon my sea voyages.

(Translation by me)

So for those who still have the contents of their stomachs intact let me make it even more clear; Odysseus describes a wild scene in which a wild creature, no more than an animal, in a blink of an eye snatched six strong and vigorous men and devoured them at her doors without remorse or compassion, just pure animalistic feeding as his comrades flopped like fish caught by the fisherman on the shore while adrenaline kept them awake till the last moment their heart stopped beating! And Odysseus describes it in such a manner; so clear and savage that arguably tops even the grotesque descriptions he had on events like Polyphemus or the Laestrygonians! The ultimate horror scene

Now you might wonder why I correlate the two? I immediately shall tell you. What does the scene of Skylla have in common with the Cattle of Helios Hyperion? Odysseus witnesses someone devouring a prey that is still "alive" and making sound. It doesn't seem like a random choice that Homer decided to share with us that the pieces of meat were still "alive" in one way and I am not convinced that he added that information solely to show how divine the Cattle were neither to create a horror scene. Neither is a mere coincidence that the scene of Skylla is right before the island of Helios or the fact that Odysseus mentions how his men are still grieving the deaths they experienced lastly. I think is much deeper and much more profound than that. Odysseus is in horror at the scene and he has witnessed quite a few harsh situations in his life but this seem to take the cake when it comes to his comrades and doesn't seem to be the mere idea of a blasphemy either.

Odysseus witnesses his men act like Skylla as they devour the pieces of meat that still moo and make sound just like Skylla devoured their still crying and moving men!!!

At that moment of hunger and desperation his men lost the last bits of their humanity. They no longer felt guilt that something was making sound as if it was still alive as they roasted it and slowly devoured it. Their previous experiences and hunger broke them and made them lose the last bits of humanity they had. Not only they committed hubris by defying a God and eating his Cattle, not only didn't they have proper sacrifices to offer but also they didn't stop when they noticed the Cattle were still "alive" even when roasted and they didn't stop not even when they made sounds as if they are being tormented. They didn't care anymore.

They were reduced to the level of a beast in their desperation.

This was the moment when Odysseus knew they were beyond saving because THAT was their real crime: the descent to the mere survival mode; the very bit that separated humans from beast was gone with them. (And even then Odysseus tried to save them, see my other analysis here )

Because this seems to me the true reason why these two scenes were placed side by side. It seems like a combination between cause and effect and also a result of everything that led to that part (adventures, hunger etc) and I am surprised that we don't see more people talk about it. That was the moment where his men reduced from humanity to savagery because as Eurylochus said; there is nothing worse than dying of hunger. And ironically Odysseus seems to quote on that too as he speaks on the basic need of hunger when he is under disguise in his own palace; somehow seems like this moment rings in his mind forever.

Food for thought (pun intended). Let me know your thoughts to the comments and reblogs below!

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I think there's some medias that you just cannot meaningfully engage with if your main priority is shipping

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“The Eyes of Scylla”

It seems King Odysseus has found himself in yet another predicament involving a monster. How unfortunate.

Not-So Fun Fact: The blood on Odysseus is not his own, rather it’s the blood of his crew members as they were hauled off the ship to be eaten >:]

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Nothing in this world makes me feel a greater sense of disappointment and misery than searching up a character from greek mythology and the first picture being a shitty ai image of an overly muscled greased up guy with indiscernible clouds in the background

Where’s the red/black figure pottery? Where’s the chipped and worn away friezes and frescos that barely show their face? Where’s the iconic 19th century allegorical painting of them? Where are the mosaics? Where are the statues? Why must we throw away preserved artwork for the sake of ai slop?

Truly it makes me violent

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“The Cyclops”

Odysseus realizes he maayyyyy have fucked up a bit…

I love drawing backgrounds but I hate drawing rocks so I’m actually shocked I didn’t end up redoing them. Had fun designing Polyphemus! Wanted him to have some jewelry that’s a callback to him being the son of Poseidon.

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Looks normal to me!

I may have a problem

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Oh yeah I’ve definitely heard the death/rebirth interpretation before! (I’ve been obsessed with the epic for years… could probably recite it at this point… might be a little unhealthy with how much I love it at this point.) I just wasn’t sure if you meant ‘dead’ literally, in the sense that everyone in Ithaca assumed he was dead, or if you meant it metaphorically. Also love your analyses and fanfics! I’ve read them all!

But yeah I could talk about Odysseus for DAYS. He’s such a compelling and complex character and he’s SO fun. Truly The Character of all time. Once had a friend ask me why I liked The Odyssey and sent him probably the longest text I’ve ever sent in my life. I seriously could gush about the epic for hours! Honestly, I think his psychological struggles and trauma is truly my favorite part of him to explore. Maybe it’s because I love psychological drama as a genre or just that I have an interest in trauma psychology but I genuinely love writing about it.

I’d really love to make an AMV or PMV (art major/animator here) about him someday if I could decide on a song lol (not an animatic, my boy deserves a fully finished project).

And thank you!! I’m glad you liked my thoughts on this!

Odysseus traveled in the Underworld; Living among the Dead

He returned to his homeland; Dead among the Living

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Don’t fuck with this man’s wife

Odysseus: I heard someone insulted my wife at the feast last night. Whoever it was, come forward, apologize, and all will be forgiven.

Achaean Army:

Odysseus:

Achaean Army:

Odysseus: Smart. You knew I would never forgive you.

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I don’t know if this is what you meant but I interpreted this as when Odysseus returns, he’s physically alive but psychologically and metaphorically dead, due to the trauma he suffered. Like he’ll never be the same person again as he was before he left.

And now I have this image in my head of Odysseus watching everyone in Ithaca go about their daily lives, all unbothered by terrible memories of war and monsters, of the metallic odor of fresh blood and the fear that always stays with him, even when he knows he’s safe.

He nearly trips as a young boy runs out in front of him and up to his father, and Odysseus feels a longing in his heart, wishing that it could have been him, playing with his son and raising him to be a man. Of hearing him say his first word, of seeing him take his first steps, of the joy that comes with taking him on his first hunt and the fatherly pride of watching him make his first kill. And all Odysseus can do is wish for something that never happened, thinking of every milestone he missed.

He glances over at a husband and wife sharing a kiss, and regrets all the years he and Penelope missed out on, of how now, when she so much as touches him, he freezes. She remarked once that he acts as if he’s never been touched with a loving hand, and he hates that she isn’t exactly wrong. It’s been so long since someone has touched him so gently with no intent to harm him, so used to being grabbed or hurt. So used to the seven years he spent being firmly pulled to a strange bed where unspeakable acts were done to him. He’s starved for affection, and yet he flinches at his own wife’s touch.

He spends his days attending to his duties with no excitement or enthusiasm, his voice either grumpy or monotone. Some Ithacans avoid him when possible; they know he’s short-tempered and his behavior unpredictable; everyone is well aware he is prone to violence. The bodies of the slain suitors are testament to that. It doesn’t matter if the weather’s sunny and warm, the world around him feels dull and cold. He’s been angry and frustrated and exhausted and sad and terrified for so long, and yet he feels so numb to it all.

It feels as if the world is just a dream, like he floats just outside of his body, like nothing is truly real.

Some days he can’t even get out of bed, too overtaken by depression and exhaustion to move. Those days are the worst, for there is no distraction from the pain that has long infested his mind. His brain, the one thing he has relied on to survive, the source of his cunning and intelligence, seems to have turned against him. The thing that helped him survive his torment is now tormenting him, and he is powerless to stop it. He wastes the hours crying silently, his mind racing with thoughts as he tries to process it all. By the time the sun sets, his pillow is stained with his tears.

He hardly eats anything, skipping meals and ignoring the hunger pangs in his stomach. He has little appetite, and his body has long since adapted to surviving off what little he could find. He feels like a little boy again as his father encourages him to eat more, Laertes resting his wrinkled hand on his son’s back, concerned that he can feel Odysseus’ vertebrae through his flesh.

He’s always vigilant, keeping a hand near the grip of his sword at all times, ready to draw it at any moment. He jumps if approached from behind, shoves those who touch him without warning or permission. It seems any small action can trigger a flashback, and the humiliation and stares of confusion are more than enough for Odysseus to stay out of the public eye. He hears the clanging of metal as a serving boy drops a pitcher, and suddenly he’s standing on the battlefield again, the shrieks and dins a cacophony in his ears as he struggles to breathe. Is that the sound of children screaming as they play a game, or the sound of Trojan children crying as they stare upon the bodies of their slain parents? Is that the sound of a victorious cry when a man bests another in a friendly competition, or is that the death throe of his crew member as one of Scylla’s mouths close on him and whisks him away to his doom?

He is a paranoid man, trust issues as deeply rooted within his psyche as the olive tree that makes up his bed frame. His trust must be earned, and it is broken as easily as breaking a twig. He is suspicious of everyone who has not earned back his trust, and any bit of disobedience or disrespect toward him, real or perceived, is reason enough for him to believe they wish to assassinate him.

At night, while everyone else is asleep, Odysseus lies awake, terrified by the nightmares that haunt him nearly every time he succumbs to sleep’s sweet embrace. He gets four hours of sleep on a good night, his average being closer to an hour or two, if he even sleeps at all. His nightmares are vivid, not always having to do with his trauma. Some do, some are amalgamations of whatever his mind can put together, some are combinations of both, but they are consistent in that they cause him to shoot upright in bed, soaked in sweat, biting his tongue to stop himself from screaming. Penelope does her best to soothe him, to slow his heart rate, to get him to breathe before he attempts to sleep, but she has her own trauma, and each night is a gamble to see who wakes up who with their nightmare. Most nights they lie curled up together, praying that their mental scars leave them alone for at least one night. The fatigue wears on Odysseus’ health, and he finds himself ill often, leaving him sick in bed, alone with his thoughts, and there is nothing and no one else he would rather not be left alone with.

And everywhere around him there’s happiness, the couple announcing they’re expecting a child, the group of men cheering over a good hunt, of children chasing each other through town, of friends chatting and laughing together, and Odysseus stands away from them, their king now almost an outcast in his own homeland. His entire crew is dead. No one on this island has gone through what he has. No one could ever understand what happened to him, and that leaves him isolated and alone.

Of course, there are families mourning too, those that lost a father or brother or nephew or son, one who sailed with Odysseus or was murdered upon his return. The latter glare at him coldly, but are smart enough to not stir up trouble, the former split with those who blame their king and those who curse the Fates. Odysseus wishes he could grieve alongside them, but he has spent too long with a tight leash around his own mourning, always with a need to stay strong for his men, to assure that they kept their confidence in him, yet it came at the cost of hiding his own pain.

He isn’t sure he knows how to grieve.

His friends from the olden days try to cheer him up, his family tries to offer him support, but there’s so much he has lost within those twenty years that he will never get back. There is an empty pit inside of him, as if someone reached into the very depths of his being and tore out a piece of him, or perhaps a creature bit him and sucked out everything that made him who he was. In any case, there’s something he lost a long, long time ago that he will never recover, and perhaps accepting that is traumatic within itself.

Odysseus kneels over a pond to look at his reflection, and he can hardly recognize the graying hair, the battle-scarred skin, the hollowed, dark-circled and red-tinted eyes as his own. If it were not for the knowledge that it would be impossible for it not to be him, he would think it a stranger.

He remembers when he was disguised as a beggar, testing those around him, how many of them spoke of his kindness and gentle take on leadership. How he ruled like a father, even before he was actually one. How many would speak of him like that now? How could anyone look at the bodies of his own people he’d slain, see the blood on his hands, and trust his leadership?

Perhaps he never should have returned. Perhaps they would all be better off without him here.

In the twenty years he spent away, Odysseus had longed to see even the smoke rising from his homeland again. Ithaca had represented an end to his suffering, the place he could finally find relief. The place where he could be happy again. He had never suspected that, even now, he would be so haunted by his past. Perhaps he should have considered that, he is a man used to suffering after all, but that had been a source of hope for him, something that he lacked so deeply. Now that last hope had been dashed.

He sees a girl gifting her mother a hand-picked bouquet of flowers, and thinks back to when he saw his own mother in the Underworld. He misses her, and the grief still stings, but something else stands out to him in that moment. All the ghosts he saw seemed so miserable, each giving the story of their own sorrows. The afterlife they had, so devoid of comfort, had been one of the few reasons that held off his suicidal ideation. Now it seemed there was no difference between life and death in that aspect. He was alive, and yet he was still so miserable, stuck in a deep depression that seemed impossible to escape from.

His life had been saved, but he was still dead.

His physical being was alive, his heart still beat, he still drew breath, but his spirit was dead, crushed beneath the weight of twenty long years of trauma.

What difference did it make then, if his body had been saved, if everything that made him who he was gone? What did it matter, if he was not the same man that left two decades ago?

The thoughts haunt him day and night, as he eyes his sword pressed against his hip. It would be easy, just one slash across his throat and it would be over, but something keeps him from acting on those thoughts. What that something is, he cannot be sure.

What living man thinks of ending his own life? What living man who clawed tooth and nail to return back to his homeland wonders if he should have returned?

How is he truly alive if he feels dead?

Perhaps, in a way, he did die after all.

Odysseus traveled in the Underworld; Living among the Dead

He returned to his homeland; Dead among the Living

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Me with plans to design every character that appears in The Iliad/Odyssey (including the Olympians) as well as to design every Warrior Cats character

the problem with being into mythology is that there are literally an uncountable number of characters to design. One day you think “what would Achilles look like?” And a year later the Olympians, 9 Muses, 50 Nereids, every soldier in the Trojan War, every Argonaut, and all the Epigoni need designs

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Reading The Odyssey isn’t enough I need to tear out every page one by one and consume them.

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Was literally just thinking about this today since I’ll be 20 in less than two months. As you said, it’s easy to just say 20 years, but when I think about how that’s almost my entire life it really throws me for a loop.

This might be just a me thing but. I know that odysseus was gone for 20 years. However i think i know that only in theory. It's only when i sit down and actually conceptualize the length of 20 years that it truly hits me