Powell’s new ‘Odyssey’ translation immerses us in imagery, emotions of Greek original

“The Odyssey” by Homer; translation, introduction and notes by Barry B. Powell (Oxford University Press, 488 pages, $16.95, paperback)

The “Odyssey” may be the greatest travel story ever told. For 10 years after the fall of Troy, the warrior-king Odysseus struggles to make his way home to the Greek island of Ithaca, encountering monsters and sirens and preternaturally stormy seas along the way.

As he battles the god Poseidon’s insatiable intent to keep him adrift – essentially lashed to his raft – Odysseus is long presumed dead by nearly everyone on Ithaca and Greece’s Peloponnese Peninsula. Suitors harangue his wife, Penelope, for her hand in marriage; they infuriate his adult son, Telemachos, with their disdain for his father’s memory; and they devour Odysseus’ food and wine as though they had an endless supply of nourishment and pleasure.

Odysseus undertakes his epic journey back to Ithaca from Ilium, site of his ingenious military coup, the “gift” of the Trojan Horse. His wiliness on the battlefield helped the Greeks win the Trojan War, and his cleverness at sea helps him topple giant Cyclopses, resist alluring beauties, and persuade the maids of Nausicaa to bathe, clothe and befriend him once he swims ashore on the island of the Phaeacians.

All this, before he finally reaches hearth and home with the aid of his hosts, who hear his decade-long tale of woe in which Poseidon curses him, he loses all his crew, and he spends seven years captive to the nymph Kalypso.

Moved by his story, the Phaeacians secretly transport him at night to a hidden harbor on Ithaca. There, the goddess Athena disguises him as a wandering beggar to spy on his household. Back on terra firma, Odysseus first reveals himself to Telemachos, then summarily kills the suitors, redeems his heroic name, and reclaims his rightful place on the throne.

His journey has inspired countless works of literature, most famously James Joyce’s modernist masterpiece “Ulysses.” A cornerstone of the Western canon, the “Odyssey” is a story that never grows old; its conflicts and cathartic resolutions are as powerfully charged today as they were nearly 3,000 years ago.

Not surprisingly, it has been translated into English dozens of times, from Alexander Pope in the 18th century to Samuel Butler in Victorian England to Robert Fagles in the 1990s. Each new version has tried harder than its predecessors to capture the dramatic essence of the poem, often rendering Homer’s dactylic hexameter into familiar iambic pentameter or a polished prose.

Now, renowned Homer scholar Barry Powell, the Halls-Bascom Professor of Classics Emeritus at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, has produced a lively, fresh and aesthetically potent translation of the 12,110-line poem that brings Odysseus closer to our home and makes his adventure-laden sojourn a pinnacle of storytelling, as artful and thrilling as it is philologically exact.

In 2012, Powell issued what many considered the authoritative translation of the “Iliad,” Homer’s psychologically astute interpretation of the Trojan War. Powell’s rendition proved contemporary in its diction, fast and free-flowing in its narrative, and teeming with pathos, intrigue and strong central characters.

His translation of the “Odyssey” may outdo the brilliance of the “Iliad,” however, because of the way it exemplifies the artistic excellence that Homer heralds in the poem. Take this passage from Book 6, bursting with assonance, alliteration and rhythmic drive.

So he spoke,

and the maidens moved away, and told Nausicaa. And godlike

Odysseus washed the brine that covered his back and broad

shoulders from his flesh, and he wiped off the foam

of the restless sea from his head. And when he had washed himself

and anointed himself with oil, he quickly put on the clothes

that the unmarried virgin had given him. Then Athena the daughter

of Zeus made him taller to look upon, and stronger,

and she made the locks from his head to fall in curls,

like the hyacinth flower. As when a man overlays silver

with gold, a skilled worker whom Hephaistos and Pallas

Athena have trained in every kind of craft, and he produces

work filled with grace — even so she poured out grace

on his head and shoulders.

Thus, Powell’s carefully crafted cadences of English flow with the music of the Homeric Greek. Together, they express a continuous “stream of sound” that immerses us in the imagery, emotions and ecstasies of the original.

Likewise, Powell captures the electrifying moment of Odysseus’ majestic revenge on the would-be plunderers of his wealth and wife, most of them huddled in the feast hall, afraid to face his fury.

So he spoke,

and a green fear fell on all of them, and each man looked about

to see how he might flee dread destruction.

The competition for predominance among translations can be fierce and confusing. To bolster his claim, Powell adds valuable context with an erudite introduction to the mythology, history and philology of the text. He also includes illustrations and maps to help bring the poem alive, even as he sticks to his idiosyncratic spellings of proper names.

We may have heard this ancient story myriad times before, but Powell’s translation soars in heightened intensity, especially as it strikes Homer’s resonant note of hope: How, following in the footsteps of Odysseus, we can go home again.

This story was originally published October 25, 2014 at 7:15 PM with the headline "Powell’s new ‘Odyssey’ translation immerses us in imagery, emotions of Greek original."