often rarer word
breathes life into old image
words weighty enough
From the review, The Iliad by Homer, translated by Emily Wilson review – a bravura feat by Emily Hall, when she writes:
There is a bravura self-confidence in Wilson’s choices. In the first two lines of the poem, Achilles’ wrath, which sent so many heroes to their deaths, is called oulomenēn. This long, vowelly, mouth-filling participle is usually translated by a much slighter English word such as “direful”, “ruinous” or “destructive”. Wilson’s choice of “cataclysmic” proclaims her independence from tradition and the acuity of her ear. The word is weighty enough, both aurally and in import; its association with deluges also prefigures, subtly, Achilles’ fight with the River Scamander that forms the metaphysical climax of the poem. Often a rarer word breathes new life into an old image, such as “canister” for “bucket”. I enjoyed the fresh, contemporary feel of the dialogue, especially army banter: “delusional behaviour”, “I am done with listening to you”; “master strategist”.
Ms. Hall askes and answers the most important question in the line of this paragraph of the review:
New translations also proliferated. There were nearly 50 English-language versions in the 19th century, at least 30 in the 20th, and a dozen or more already in the 21st. Some are outstanding: Richmond Lattimore (1951) brilliantly reproduced Homer’s rolling dactylic hexameters; the trench-traumatised Robert Graves (1959) evoked Achilles’ alienation and brutality; Robert Fitzgerald (1974) grasped the Iliad’s pace and acoustic beauty and Christopher Logue (War Music, 1981) its visceral impact. Robert Fagles’s translation (1990) has relentless forward drive and readability. Do we really need another? If it is this one by Emily Wilson, then we certainly do.
No Haiku For You 