I’m still awaiting my copy of Emily Wilson’s new translation of the Odyssey, but on the basis of passages circulating on social media and this New York Times Magazine interview it’s going to be well worth it. Certainly it’s already setting off some fascinating discussions of issues in translation: the particular choices that have to be made in trying to express concepts that don’t have an exact equivalent in the target language, and in particular words that have multiple senses and associations in the original. This is a problem in the very first line of the poem, with the word used to describe its main character, polytropos:
“One of the things I struggled with,” Wilson continued, sounding more exhilarated than frustrated as she began to unpack “polytropos,” the first description we get of Odysseus, “is of course this whole question of whether he is passive — the ‘much turning’ or ‘much turned’ — right? This was —”
“Treat me,” I interrupted, “as if I don’t know Greek,” as, in fact, I do not.
“The prefix poly,” Wilson said, laughing, “means ‘many’ or ‘multiple.’ Tropos means ‘turn.’ ‘Many’ or ‘multiple’ could suggest that he’s much turned, as if he is the one who has been put in the situation of having been to Troy, and back, and all around, gods and goddesses and monsters turning him off the straight course that, ideally, he’d like to be on. Or, it could be that he’s this untrustworthy kind of guy who is always going to get out of any situation by turning it to his advantage. It could be that he’s the turner.”
The point is that it could be either, or indeed both; certainly the poem offers ample evidence both of Odysseus’ twisting, detour-filled wanderings and his subtle, twisting mind. How can this be rendered in English? Do we choose a single word, echoing the original – and, if no word exists that evokes both meanings, which aspect do we choose to emphasise? Do we instead go for a phrase, at the expense of losing the neat directness of the first line of the original?
Wilson goes for “Tell me about a complicated man”. I rather like that; if you’re going to choose to emphasise Odysseus’ mind rather than his experiences, this does a good job of reserving judgement on whether he should be judged positively (‘clever’, ‘cunning’) or negatively (‘devious’, ‘slippery’) – because of course he is both, both by our standards and by those of the ancient Greeks, and we need to evaluate this in the light of subsequent events and actions. But of course you do then lose the passive element, the extent to which he’s a man caught up in complications as well, even if some of them are self-inflicted.
I’ve always liked “the man of crooked ways” as a means of capturing the ambiguity of the Greek – but then I’ve never been wholly enamoured of Odysseus, as someone who will always find a way to slide out of trouble and turn things to his advantage, the prince of plausible deniability. He is complicated, not just in his intelligence and cunning, but in the conflicting reactions which he provokes (or should provoke) in us – he ‘turns’ us as much as he turns the people he encounters. Homer’s opening sentence is not just a description of the lead character and the action to follow, it’s a warning…
Sphinx 
So it sounds like the Greeks used the word that implied he was both turned and a turner because he was both, and it’s our fault for not having such a word in English. lol
Not sure it’s a matter of fault, but certainly it’s our problem…
At the risk of lowering the tone, this piece reminds me of the Kinks “Complicated life” – ‘Life is overrated, life is complicated,
Must alleviate this complicated life.’
It’s interesting that a modern day translator would chose the loaded word “complicated”, as in, the ubiquitous “its complicated” that you hear used less often to describe something, than to avoid describing it. Sounds fitting.
Yes, I think that’s why I like it – though I also can’t help thinking of that dreadful film, which is not the right mood.
When I studied the Odyssey, we used the Fagles translation in class. Luckily someone had put up the audiobook on YouTube as read by Ian McKellen. This underscored another point that the Odyssey wasn’t meant to be read as much as listened to.
I agree that in most cases, its better to get the sense of the idea the author is trying to convey than strive for literal accuracy. In one case, while writing subtitles for a Bollywood film, a Hindi expression which means “may you have good fortune” which was literally translated as “may your mouth be filled with butter and sugar”.
Another case more in keeping with the theme of this blog, I actually liked the direct and blunt abridgement of Thucydides in Jack Gold’s 1991 The War that Never Ends (despite the historicism filled introduction). Here is the Melian dialogue:
I realize I may be opening myself up for criticism here, but I thought it admirably brought out the tone of the discussion even if it sacrificed most of the details. Finally, how certain are we of how much Thucydides himself paraphrased when reporting the speeches of Pericles et al ?
Thanks for this. I think there are always different possibilities, depending on what we’re trying to achieve; you can produce a translation of Homer designed to be listened to being read aloud, or one that’s intended to be read, and you’ll almost certainly end up going in different directions. Conversely, the Melian Dialogue was written to be read, but you can turn it into a performance piece instead (and I would say that, because I’m in the process of revising my own simplified version – original can be seen at http://www.disclaimermag.com/other-stuff/return-to-melos-facing-the-reality-of-how-things-are-in-order-to-understand-it-better-3520 – for another performance on 23rd November). It’s arguable whether Thucydides made up most of the speeches he gave to figures like Pericles, rather than simply paraphrased – but in the case of the Melian Dialogue it’s definitely a kind of fiction, so I don’t think we need to feel any hesitation in seeking to capture the essence of the ideas and debates in new forms.