The Wanderings of Odysseus

“Now, the people of that island were kind and friendly. But they ate nothing but the fruit of the lotus flowers that grew there, and whoever tasted that fruit lost all knowledge of past and future, all wish to be up and doing, and drowsed their time away, always in the present moment of warm sunshine and dappled shade, dreaming happy dreams and forgetting all the world.”

The Lotus Eaters, whose diet deprives them of “all wish to be up and doing,” represent the antithesis of the heroic ideal embodied by Odysseus, the “Sacker of Cities” who will stop at nothing to reach home. Like many Greek heroes, Odysseus must reject a pleasant life of ease (represented, in this case, by the Lotus Eaters) if he is to be a true hero.

“‘As to this Zeus whom you call the All-Father,’ said the giant, ‘we the Cyclops do not care an overripe fig for him, or for all his fellow gods save for Poseidon, who is our father, for we are stronger than they are, and have no need to obey any will but our own!’”

The Cyclops Polyphemus rejects Odysseus’s request for hospitality and even denies the power of the gods, which Sutcliff implies to be a sign of his uncivilized nature. The Greeks regarded hospitality and piety as fundamental pillars of civilization, and the Cyclops, one of several figures in Odysseus’s wanderings who disregard these pillars, represents the dangers inherent to an uncivilized world.

“Hear me, blue-haired Poseidon. If I am your son indeed, then grant me that Odysseus, Sacker of Cities, if ever he comes again to his home, comes late and alone. And when he lands from a stranger’s ship, let him find trouble waiting for him!”

Polyphemus asks his father, the sea god Poseidon, to punish Odysseus for blinding him, marking a turning point in the story: From this moment on, Poseidon will be the enemy of Odysseus and make his homecoming as difficult as possible, suggesting that Odysseus’s fatal flaw is hubris. Odysseus only revealed his name to Polyphemus because he wanted the son of Poseidon to know who had outwitted him, thus his own folly earned him Poseidon’s enmity.

“‘It is clear enough that the gods must hate you!’ he cried out upon them. ‘And my house-room and my help are not for those who are hated by the gods! Away with you, and come no more over the seaways to my shore!’”

Aeolus drives Odysseus away because his misfortune reveals that the gods are against him—a fact that Odysseus will soon see confirmed again and again. It becomes increasingly clear from Odysseus’s run of bad luck that he is fated to wander for a long time before he reaches home, highlighting to the novel’s preoccupation with The Role of Fate and The Relationship Between Gods and Mortals. 

“And Odysseus knew that blue-haired Poseidon had hearkened to the prayer of the blinded Cyclops, his son. For now, out of 12 ships and their valiant crews, he had but one.”

The terrible implications of Poseidon’s anger become more apparent to Odysseus as his misfortunes continue. Odysseus has just lost all but one of his ships, foregrounding the narrative tension in The Relationship Between Gods and Mortals.

“Odysseus doubted for a moment, but his hunger after any kind of strange experience was with him still; and he knew also that he and his men needed rest and fresh supplies before they took to the seaways again.”

Sutcliff highlights Odysseus’s curiosity, his “hunger after any kind of strange experience,” as a defining character trait, and one that often gets him into trouble. Odysseus and his men become trapped in the cave of the Cyclops, for instance, because Odysseus is curious to see the cave’s owner. But Odysseus’s curiosity coexists alongside his intelligence and cunning. In this case, Odysseus’s curiosity complements his practical need for supplies.

“You will come in your voyaging to the island of Thrinacia, and there you will find the cattle of Hyperion the Sun Lord grazing on rich pastureland. Leave them to graze in peace, and all may yet be well with your homecoming. But harm them in any way, and I see destruction for your ship and your crew; and for you, if maybe you escape the fate of your men, I see a lone homecoming in a stranger’s ship to a house full of strife and sorrow. Proud me’ are laying waste your possessions and pressing marriage upon your wife, Penelope, who believes you long since lost to her.”

The weight and import that the ancient Greek world placed on The Role of Fate, to which both gods and mortals are subject, is evident in Tiresias’s ability to discern the future obstacles Odysseus will face on his journey. Odysseus’s response to Tiresias’s visions and his willingness to continue his quest, knowing the dangers that await him, underscore his Heroism.

“But Achilles said that he would sooner be the servant of a poor farmer on earth than rule over all the dead in this sad, gray land where the sun never shone and no flowers grew, save the pale asphodel.”

The ancient Greeks held a pessimistic view of death, regarding the Land of the Dead as a dark and dreary place. The Land of the Dead was also a great equalizer as the place where every mortal—rich or poor, man or woman, brave or cowardly—went after they died. Even Achilles, a demigod and the greatest hero who fought at Troy, is now no more than a shade in the Land of the Dead, a position he regards as worse even than occupying the lowliest status in the “Upper World.”

“But he himself hungered to hear the Siren-song, so he ordered his men to bind him to the mast with strong ropes, and not to unbind him, however much he might struggle and cry out to them, until the island was well behind them.”

Odysseus uses his cunning to satisfy his curiosity, finding a way to listen to the song of the Sirens without losing his life. Sutcliff positions Odysseus’s cunning, and his use of his cunning to have experiences that others would avoid, as an important aspect of his unique brand of heroism.

“They descended upon the palace like a flock of greedy gulls. They slew the king’s cattle and drank the king’s wine, and swore that they would not leave until the queen should choose one of them for her husband. And no one could make them go.”

Penelope’s suitors—compared here to “a flock of greedy gulls”—flout civilized behavior, making them comparable to the savage monsters that Odysseus encounters during his travels (such as the Cyclops). Odysseus will only be able to fully return to civilization when he punishes this uncivilized behavior by killing the suitors.

“Then Calypso went sadly down to the shore, and found Odysseus in his usual place, sitting on a rock with his head in his hands, and gazing out to sea with eyes bleary and red with weeping.”

Odysseus’s grief illustrates the strength of his desire for home. Though Calypso is a generous host and her island is beautiful, Odysseus can think only of returning home, and instead of enjoying his surroundings, he chooses to spend his days weeping on the shore.

“Well I know that Penelope has not your beauty—what mortal woman could shine like the immortals? But even so, I long to return to her, as you say. And as for the troubles and dangers of the voyage if I should come again to shipwreck, I must endure it as I have done before, taking my chance with the sea and all its perils.”

Calypso presents Odysseus with the ultimate temptation, promising to make him her immortal husband if he will give up his homecoming. Odysseus’s rejection of this offer represents a kind of “hero’s choice” in his Quest for Home, embracing the hardships that come with striving after fame and honor rather than ease: Though Calypso is hard to resist, Odysseus chooses to go home to his hard, mortal life instead of staying with her.

“‘Royal lady, I come before you, a stranger storm-driven to these shores, begging your aid and a ship to carry me back to my own land, for it is a long and evil time since last I sat beside my home hearth.’

‘Poor man! If we may know your name and what land it is that you are come from,’ the queen began gently.

But Alcinous the king said, ‘Any stranger is welcome beneath my roof. Eat before you answer our questions, and later speed safely on your way.’”

Odysseus’s arrival at the island of Phaeacians signals his return to civilization. Alcinous and Arete welcome Odysseus and show him impeccable hospitality, becoming the very antithesis of the uncivilized monsters Odysseus encountered during the first part of his wanderings (especially the Cyclops Polyphemus).

“And there, while they ate, the king’s bard sang to them: a man whom the gods had made sightless, as men blind a singing bird to add sweetness to the song. Striking his harp in time to the winged words, he sang of the heroes of Troy; and, listening in his seat beside the king, Odysseus pulled a fold of his mantle over his head as men do in wild weather or when they wish to shield their faces from the gaze of those about them. But Alcinous, being closest to him, knew that he wept.”

The blind bard was a common image in ancient Greece and Rome—in fact, it was often said that Homer, the author of the Iliad and Odyssey, had been blind. The Phaeacian bard sings of the Trojan War, stirring painful memories in Odysseus as he thinks of all the friends he has lost. Later, when the bard sings of Troy again, Odysseus will have the same response, prompting Alcinous to ask him at last to reveal his identity.

“And, getting up, without even troubling to fling aside his mantle, he picked up the largest and heaviest of the great bronze disks from where they lay and, whirling about, sent it spinning from his hand. The crowd watched the shining arc that it made against the sky, and ran out to mark the spot where it pitched to earth, far ahead of any other throw that had been made that day.”

Odysseus uses the Phaeacian games as an opportunity to display his athletic prowess: Though he has suffered great hardships, Odysseus is still a hero, stronger than ordinary men. This scene foreshadows the strength that Odysseus will have to show when he deals with the unruly young men of his own island, who are trying to steal his wife and kingdom.

“Then a great joy woke in Odysseus at finding himself back in his own land. But he had been long away, and had no way of knowing what kind of men the children of nineteen years ago had grown into, or what kind of greeting they would have for him. Maybe a new king sat in his place, who might not even be his son.”

Odysseus’s long-awaited homecoming marks another moment when his hubris is mitigated by his cunning. Rather than rushing to claim what is rightfully his, Odysseus recognizes that he has been away from home for 19 years, and that much could have changed in his absence—as the prophet Tiresias of Thebes had warned him. Though Odysseus has reached Ithaca, his homecoming will not be truly complete until he has reestablished his position as king of the island.

“‘Oh, the cleverness of Odysseus!’ said she, mocking. ‘Yet you did not know me, who have so often helped you before Troy and again in the land of King Alcinous!’”

Athene laughs at Odysseus’s attempt to deceive her—as a goddess, she cannot be tricked as easily as those he has encountered on his travels. Athene and Odysseus are kindred spirits, both of them valuing strength and courage alongside cunning and intelligence. This similarity is why Odysseus is so dear to Athene.

“And with a heart that felt near to choking him, he flung himself down on his knees and kissed the sandy earth of home.”

Odysseus’s return to Ithaca, so long awaited, is a moment of pure joy. But this joy is soon mixed with anger and fear as Odysseus realizes that he must still drive the suitors out of his palace before his homecoming is complete.

“Odysseus stood a moment longer beside Argus, his dog. [...] And in that instant a shudder ran through the gaunt body; Argus, having seen again the master he had waited for through nineteen years, was dead.”

The death of Argus has been regarded by many as one of the most poignant scenes of Homer’s Odyssey. It is telling that the dog Argus is the first living creature to recognize Odysseus despite his disguise—neither Eumaeus nor Telemachus knew who Odysseus was when they first saw him as a beggar, and the only other figure who recognizes Odysseus without being prompted is Eurycleia, his old nurse.

“‘O my child!’ she whispered. ‘Oh my master!’ She was the second, as Argus had been the first, to know him again in his beggar’s guise.”

Eurycleia (an enslaved person in Odysseus’s household) is the only human who recognizes Odysseus without him needing to reveal himself to them—a subtle push back against the oppressive systems of power in ancient Greek society built on the assumption that the ruling class were superior to their subordinates, especially enslaved people whom they considered property. Yet, in Sutcliff’s narrative, it is an enslaved person with the discernment to recognize Odysseus’s true identity, when even Telemachus (a prince), Penelope (a queen) or Odysseus’s noble father, Laertes, cannot.

“Unhappy men! I see darkness all about you, and tears are on your cheeks, and all the air full of the sound of mourning; the walls and floors are splashed with blood, and in the forecourt your ghosts are hurrying down to the Underworld, and the sun is blotted from the skies.”

The seer foresees the suitors’s fate, understanding their unusual behavior as a sign that the gods have marked them for death. The suitors do not behave in a civilized or even a rational way—indeed, they completely ignore the seer’s warning—which is why law and order can only return to Ithaca once they are slain.

“‘Dogs!’ he shouted. ‘You thought that I should not return from Troy, and so you wasted my goods and tried to force yourselves upon my wife! All things seemed to go your way and you had no decent fear of the gods, but now the time of reckoning, the death-time, has come upon you all!’”

Odysseus frames the slaying of the suitors as justice—a justice that he has a right and a duty to dispense as the legitimate king of Ithaca. Sutcliff’s narrative emphasizes the importance of the impiety displayed by the suitors in the context of The Relationship Between Gods and Mortals: The suitors did not properly honor the gods and disrespected guests (regarded as a serious offense in the ancient Greek world), the penalty for which is death.

“At that, Penelope knew suddenly how she could test him once and for all. If he knew the thing that only he and she and the oldest and most trusted of their servants could possibly know, then she would have no doubts left.”

The “test” Penelope uses to confirm Odysseus’s identity highlights that she is no less cunning than her husband. By this test, Penelope demonstrates her faithfulness to Odysseus—so faithful that she will not even embrace her own husband until he has proven that he is who he says he is.