Homer
Iliad

Translated by Herbert Jordan
University of Oklahoma Press
2008

[This sample from the beginning of the poem has been provided by the translator]

Sing, goddess, of Peleus' son Achilles' anger,
ruinous that caused the Greeks untold ordeals,
consigned to Hades countless valiant souls,
heroes, and left their bodies prey for dogs
or feast for vultures. Zeus's will was done
from when those two first quarreled and split apart,
the king, Agamemnon, nd matchless Achilles.

Which immortal god sowed that quarrel's seeds?
Zeus'a son Apollo. Enraged at the king,
he riddled the camp with plague, and men were dying,
all because Agamemnon had scorned Chryses,
Apollo's priest, who approached the ships
bringing measureless ransom to free his daughter.
He held the garland that graced Apollo's head,
wrapped on a gold staff, and he begged the Greeks,
especially Atreus' sons, the two commanders:
"Sons of Atreus, and all you thick-greaved Achaeans,
may the gods who hold Olympus permit you
to plunder Priam's city and sail home safe,
but take this ransom, free my cherished child
and show respect for Zeus's son Apollo."

The assembled Argives shouted their wish
to honor the priest and take his splendid gifts,
but Agamemnon was deeply displeased
and dismissed the holy man with stern orders:
"Old man, let me not find you by these ships,
either tarrying now or returning later.
The god's garland and staff will not avail  you.
I will not free her till age overtakes her
in my Argive home, far from here and yours,
after plying my loom and sharing my bed.
Go! Do not provoke me, and you leave unharmed!"

 Frightened, the old priest obeyed the command
and walked silently by the roaring surf.
When he had gone a safe distance, he prayed
to lord Apollo, fair-haired Leto's son:
"O god who wields a silver bow, shelters Chryse
and sacred Cilla, and governs Tenedos!
Lord of plagues, if ever I built you a shrine
or burned on your altar the fattened thighs
of goats and bulls, then grant this wish for me:
Let your arrows repay the Greeks for my tears!"

REVIEW COMMENT

Herbert Jordan offers a “line-for-line” translation, “one line of English blank verse for each line of the original Greek.” He imposes this condition in order to combat what he calls the “translation inflation” of other modern English Iliads, “which dilutes the immediacy of the original . . . [and] makes it nearly impossible to compare a translation with the original.” His aim, he says, “is to capture the essence of Homer’s original lines, not to render the Greek literally.” To reinforce this claim, the back cover blurb stresses that this translation “avoids unnecessary filler”—a statement which seems to imply that other translators have been much too verbose or that Homer’s text itself is full of extraneous fluff or both.

The rationale Jordan advances for this decision is dubious. There is no obvious reason why using more words or lines than the original Greek must dilute the immediacy of the original, since Greek, like Latin, is a much more compressed language than English, especially in its verb forms (hence, a satisfactory translation of a simple expression like Morituri te salutamus requires almost three times as many words in English as in Latin). Excess verbiage is, indeed, a mark of inferior poetry, but what matters is not a mere count of the words or lines but an assessment of the quality of the English verse—Does each word contribute significantly to the translation? As for enabling the reader to compare the translation with the original Greek, the easiest way to do that is surely to include the line numbers of the Greek text in the translated poem, rather than to impose a stringent formula which might severely limit the English style. 

In any case, the whole rationale is moot, because it turns out that Jordan’s principal strategy for achieving the desired compression is the simple expedient of omitting a sufficient number of words from Homer’s text to meet the requirements he has imposed on himself. His other strategy is to limit his English to the simplest possible phrasing in order to fit his needs, a practice which obviously limits the poetical possibilities of his style and leads, in places, to some curious word choices or syntactical constructions.

Jordan dismisses his omissions as relatively insignificant—“for the most part, omitted words are Greek particles, which often have no English equivalents, or frequently repeated patronyms and epithets. . . .” Well, there is a long (but minor) tradition of hostility to Homer’s epithets, so he will have some readers on his side. But these expressions are an immediately noticeable (and very famous) element of Homer’s style, so other readers may well wonder if their omission is not something of a significant loss.

This comment about the omissions turns out to be somewhat disingenuous, for Jordan has, in fact, routinely excised important elements from Homer’s text. Here’s one example, taken almost at random:

Idomeneus’ spear flew in Erymas’ mouth
The weapon’s whetted point continued back
under the brain and split the chalky bone.
Teeth flew out; a powerful gush filled
Erymas’ eyes with blood. Through nostrils, through mouth
still more blood burst as death’s dark covered him. (16.345-350)

A comparison with the Greek here reveals that Jordan has left out a good deal more than a few extraneous epithets or particles. Homer describes the spear as “pitiless bronze” (part of an ominously evocative pattern in the text which ascribes human emotional attributes to the weapons, an effect squandered in the phrase “whetted point”). Homer also indicates that Erymas’ mouth is “open” or “gaping,” and pictures the arrival of death as a black cloud. Hence, a more faithful translation of the passage might look something like this:

Idomeneus' pitiless bronze then struck Erymas right in his mouth—
the spear forced itself straight through,
below his brain, splitting his white skull apart,
smashing out his teeth.  His eyes filled up with blood.
More blood spurted from his nose and gaping mouth.
Then death's black cloud enveloped Erymas.              

Well, Jordan does use fewer words, but I’m not sure that this simple numerical fact makes his translation more “immediate” and more able to “capture the essence of Homer’s original lines” than the above alternative. The issue, after all, is not a matter of choosing between the essence of Homer’s lines (whatever that means exactly) and the literal Greek but rather of staying alert and faithful to the nuances of Homer’s poetic style.

Jordan’s lines are, for the most part, clear and direct, and his style keeps the poem moving. While there is nothing outstanding in the poetry, it does hold one’s attention, except on those occasions when there’s a curious lapse in the diction. Would Thersites, the ugliest and most scurrilous and vituperative common solder, in accusing Agamemnon of wanting a girl to screw, really use a euphemistic expression like “woman on whom to vent your lust”? Is the expression “Hector is fast coming this way” or “I must forthrightly deny your request” modern idiomatic English? What is one to make of “. . . so your comrades will not stand up and harp”? Such lapses are most evident in the speeches, where one repeatedly gets the sense that the most idiomatic and vivid possibilities in the English may have been sacrificed to the arbitrary demands the translator has set himself—either that, or the translator is at times curiously insensitive to the effects of his own phrasing (there’s an important difference in effect, for example, between “valor” and “courage,” especially in a text striving to deliver more or less contemporary speech).

Those in search of a classroom text of the Iliad should certainly have a look at what Jordan offers, for students will probably find this a readily accessible text. However, for me Jordan’s style has an effect rather different than the one he announces—it tends to simplify and distance the poem rather than to convey the complex immediacy of Homer’s text. One admiring comment quoted on the back cover compares Jordan’s text to “a deceptively simple Attic frieze.”  Ironically enough (for that word “deceptively” surely cuts in different directions), this seems a useful analogy.

For another review of Jordan’s translation, readers might like to consult: Bryn Mawr Classical Review.

Readers who would like a longer preview of Jordan’s text should use the following link: Jordan Iliad.

 

List of Published English Translations of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey