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The god’s have favored me, and Emily Wilson’s new translation of Homer’s The Iliad has arrived promptly from across the wide Atlantic seas. And glorious it is indeed!
Too promptly I could say because my plan of action has not yet been settled upon. But a menu heading is a start! See My Iliad Reading at the top of the page
By the way, I have shifted the completed My Odyssey Reading; now to be found under Classical Diversions in the main menu.
Yes, I did say I was done with family ties! But then along came Catherine Macaulay in an LRB piece by Colin Kidd (Vol. 45 No. 17 · 7 September 2023). No, she is not related to Lord Macaulay who is the great-uncle of G. M(acaulay). Trevelyan. What all did have in common, though, were their ambitious writing down of the ‘big’ histories of a (then) ‘big’ England. And this Catharine did so well before those blokes – in a multi-volume affair written over twenty years titled The History of England from the Accession of James I to the Revolution (1763-1783). (Only much later came Lord (Th. Babington) Macaulay also making it to five volumes with his The History of England from the Accession of James the Second (1848) and Trevelyan, of course writing in the first half of the 20th century, had diverse titles to his credit but could also not resist a History of England in 1928, and in one tome.)
Kidd’s review of Catharine Macaulay: Political Writings edited by Max Skjönsberg for the Cambridge University Press series of Texts in the History of Political Thought comes for me as a wonderful introduction. Encouraged to look around, I discern some sense of renewed interest in Macaulay, and it is hardly surprising; for, however well-situated, however intelligent, the horizon for a woman in the 18th century was far and her opportunities limited in scope and only those with the most pertinacious of character and originality of thought have left their mark.
For further information, the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy has a lengthy entry, which interestingly mentions the “Blue Stockings” portrait (above r.) in which Catharine Macaulay is seated left beneath Apollo and behind her stands, with goblet in hand, Hannah More whose acquaintanceship and name was to live on (via Zachary) in that other Macaulay/Trevelyan tribe. Further, a first taste of her original voice can be read at the Online Library of Liberty (new to me!) in a text written in 1790 (in response to Edmund Burke) on republicanism and the Revolution in France.
Six years on from her translation of the Odyssey, Wilson revels in the clarity and emotional clout of Homer’s battlefield epic
— Read on www.theguardian.com/books/2023/sep/27/the-iliad-by-homer-translated-by-emily-wilson-review-a-bravura-feat
There are sure to be many in the next days, weeks, so as I come across new reviews I’ll directly post them (if possible) – and comment later if I think necessary . This from Edith Hall, who hardly needs an introduction – but here’s one anyway.
Sara Pascoe’s new novel, rare Terry Pratchett, memoirs from Barbra Streisand and Britney Spears, plus the essential reading on today’s hot button topics – all the releases to look out for
— Read on www.theguardian.com/books/2023/aug/26/what-to-read-this-autumn-2023s-biggest-new-books
Autumn is it absolutely not in the south of Germany! The warmest of sunshine, leaves barely tinged and little change in sight. But nevertheless it is a good time to start planning for days indoor. For this “The Guardian” has some good suggestions. Not necessarily those mentioned above in their pulled quote, though by Streisand I could be tempted. Of the others, some expected and therefore of no surprise: Zadie Smith, Mary Beard, Emily Wilson. And one who I will be particularly thrilled to read again after all her travails in the last few years: Jesmyn Ward – for this I have been waiting.
It is 26 September 2023 and Emily Wilson’s translation of Homer’s The Iliad is published today.
To whet the appetite, some of the first reviews:
No, they have not been thoroughly read, but I can say the headers and quick scans of each suggest – more than suggest – high praise, and sung in unison. Which would delight the Muses no end. Emily Wilson, herself, seemed particularly taken with The Bulwark (not known to me – looks really interesting, but mostly sub. based) piece. As she tweeted:
Wonderful Iliad review in The Bulwark. “Wilson’s deep love for and understanding of the Iliad…shine throughout this superb translation. The completion of her verse Homer amounts to nothing less than the renewal of an English poetic tradition”. https://t.co/xvN3rpIyhc
— Dr Emily Wilson (@EmilyRCWilson) September 26, 2023
Beyond the book, gossipy even (and adventurous: wouldn’t you like an assignment that takes you to Ithaca? And not that one in the Empire State), is Judith Thurman’s piece for The New Yorker “How Emily Wilson Made Homer Modern”. An entertaining read, though the “modern” of the title, if one is to understand correctly Wilson’s comments in the above thread where she makes a point of voicing her displeasure at a simple reception with the claim of “modernizing Homer”, is probably misplaced. Also, Charlotte Higgins’ piece in The Guardian a couple of weeks ago writes of the the technical choices Wilson contended with in her translation of the Iliad that culminated in today’s publication.
And at Lit Hub, Emily Wilson in conversation with her friend, Madeline Miller, reveals further insights into her methodology as a translator, the psychological depth of Homer’s poetry and into her character interpretations – also a great read:
And, finally, a diary entry unto myself: BBC Radio 4 Start the Week on Monday, 2 October – “The Iliad and the right to rule”. Adam Rutherford and his guests EMILY WILSON, Mary Beard and Ben Riley-Smith “explore the battle for power and the right to rule”.
I look forward so much to reading, reflecting upon, living with, this Iliad just as I did a couple of years ago with the Odyssey ‘according to Emily Wilson’ so to speak – a year long project that gave me great personal pleasure. But, first, I must get the book! And that seems easier said than done at the moment – in Germany at least!* But it does mean I can mull over a good (and doable) reading (and writing) schedule without undue haste. Until then.
*Reluctantly in the end I accepted Amazon delivery out of the US in a couple of weeks.
Following her acclaimed translation of the Odyssey, Wilson has turned to Homer’s other, darker poem. She explains how she got stuck for six months – and why it speaks to today’s era of conflict
— Read on www.theguardian.com/books/2023/sep/09/the-iliad-may-be-ancient-but-its-not-far-away-emily-wilson-on-homers-blood-soaked-epic
From my recent post and having been inspired by the newly (by me) discovered Gertrude Trevelyan and, therefore, as ever, by musings on Woolf, as one who had (probably) inspired her (and in more ways than the room and 500 quid), I had thought to write some more on the Pargiters. But, as I am only right now going about, and rather ponderously at that, re-reading and writing up Woolf’s diary that covers that period immediately following her speech to the National Society for Women’s Service on 21 January 1931 from which The Years (as lived by the Pargiter family) would evolve (and not in the way Woolf had at that time envisaged), I realize now this to be a more complex exercise than I thought; it seems there is a lot to be said on literary method and creative choices, and deserving, therefore, of greater attention. Simply said: this, whilst not exactly relegated to the bucket list, a task to be held in abeyance until I have pulled the very many threads together to do it justice.
…as “threads” with their own “tale to tell” – hanging there like stitches in Time […] so cleverly entwined that they become inherent to the composition; implemented to establish the focus, shift the perspective – visual or temporal …
On which, then, this thread must find an end … but just before finishing up on Trevelyan’s book (and the Trevelyans), it has occurred to me that I didn’t previously emphasize one particular characteristic enough. From the very first page, the novel’s narrative is interspersed by the listing of factual events – some short, some long; from close to home and from far shores; some of historical significance such that they are still familiar but very many now lost in the passing years; and which David Trotter in his essay variously refers to as a “database”, “news crawl”, or as “threads” with their own “tale to tell” – hanging there like stitches in Time. But they are so cleverly entwined that they become inherent to the composition; implemented to establish the focus, shift the perspective – visual or temporal, often reflecting out of or into Katherine’s classroom, or Robert’s lab or bed-sit.
An unusual stylistic choice, and one that could easily date a book; and one that may have contributed to Trevelyan’s novel disappearing into obscurity for so long – others perhaps making the (superficially based) decision that later and contemporary readers would be put off by (or ignorant of) the real world goings on during those between the wars years.
Finally, I end with the admission that I can not think of a book quite like Two Thousand Million Man-Power. (Writing about the same time but on a grander scale, Dos Passos – sorry a gap in my education! – is mentioned as one employing a similar methodology.) Coming to my mind is only a song – albeit, a list song – that tracks the post-war years in the second half of the century, and that has special significance to me (another story!). Radically different, yet with something in common, these two listings of the people and events of different generations – strewn realities to be made palpable, and therefore relatable, only with the sensory overload stimulated by the natural phenomena of noise and fire respectively. Take it away … Mr. Billy Joel!
From The Observer (via The Guardian website), a report that members of the Gladstone family – that is, descendants of Sir John Gladstone – will travel in the next days to Guyana to apologize for their historical involvement in slavery in the region and, presumably, offer some reparations. The Guardian wouldn’t of course be The Guardian if it didn’t immediately shift the focus from Sir John to his son, William (UK Prime Minister on no less than four occasions in the last half of the 19th century), and thereby to the UK government – Liberal, Tory what’s the difference? – and the Royal Family but of course! Fair enough, on their (that is, The Guardian’s) part – though so bleedin’ obvious.
In his earlier parliamentary years, the younger Gladstone appears not to have been critical of the plantation and slave system in the Caribbean nor his family’s involvement, and, whilst he accepted the 1833 Abolition of Slavery Act, he did so only on the proviso of a gradual emancipation (in their best interest, of course! – a viewpoint more than just paternalistic, rather coming from a place we would recognize as based on racist assumptions) and the adequate compensation of slave owners (of which his father became a prominent beneficiary). Later, as Prime Minister, his record is more mixed – on one hand he seems to have ’emancipated himself’ from his father by supporting international trade reforms that prioritized anti-slave companies, on the other, during the American Civil War, his support of the Union effort was tepid (he presumably thought the Confederacy would win). When it’s all said and done though, it would be fair to conclude that William Gladstone had more moral character than his father.
That, a digression, off the top of my head and with a quick – very quick – internet search; not terribly satisfactory but to continue I would need to do a more thorough research into the political history of the UK during this period and, more specifically, the anti-slavery movement and its consequences for the greater politic. I will say though that I find it commendable that there is a generation living now, and beyond academia, taking familial baggage upon themselves. Whose to say – and I can not presume to, only to wonder out loud – where self-interest in terms of reputation and the psychological burden of history – the sins of the fathers – ends and genuine moral atonement begins. And it is not just the Gladstones: of course the Windsors and all its preceding and related nomenclatures (the King has stated his support of a review into the Crown’s responsibilities); the Harewood/Lascelles (an unusual making good described here); The Guardian ‘family’; but, also, for instance, the Trevelyan family with whom I have found myself spending time of late.
Earlier this year, members of the Trevelyan family traveled to Grenada to apologize for its historic ownership of slaves and for the compensation it received in the wake of the abolition of slavery. One of those was the former BBC journalist, Laura Trevelyan, and her report on the event can be read here. Presumably their family’s involvement in the dark side of colonialism, is all very new to its members, and only came to light when two of them (John Dower and Humphrey Trevelyan) were trawling a database. What information it was, and from whom, instigated the family’s investigation after all this time is not divulged, but one can presume it was externally motivated. Certainly, it is only relatively recently that academia – and a new generation of academics – have forced the issue in a big way. (And the media has played its part – something like this, for instance, which makes mention of the stately home gifted to the National Trust by C.P Trevelyan.) And, I don’t suppose it matters. But ignorance does matter. Granted, no PM in their tree like in the Gladstone’s, but a Trevelyan did ‘kind of’ invent the modern civil service of the nineteenth century, and they are an extraordinarily storied British family. Seriously, why, given the privileges many of them still have to this day, did so few in the family previously have much of an interest in their forebears? Well, perhaps not, but … In her introduction to a book she wrote about her family in 2006, titled A Very British Family, at least Laura Trevelyan outs herself in genealogical ignorance and moves to rectify this. But, it should be said, she must not have delved too deep. I have only browsed her book (I would warrant, knowing what she knows now, she may like it to disappear), but from what I can see, slavery comes to the fore only in the positive context of abolitionism and the Clapham Sect. And, more broadly, colonialism gets somewhat of a pass. (Diverging, nor does she seem to have come across Gertrude, but then Trevelyan’s focus was on her immediate family.)
Having started with the Gladstones, I will end with them in union with the Trevelyans in the latter half of the 19th century. Sir George Otto Trevelyan (the father of C.P, R.C. & G.M), though a generation or so younger, was in fact a constant in William Gladstone’s government(s) throughout much of his long period(s) in office, but was not born at the time the young parliamentarian Gladstone argued as an apologist for his father and other plantation and slave owners (the Trevelyan family, for instance) and their right to compensation in the wake of abolition. Two men bound politically, but also bound by their respective family interests. It reminds one how very resilient family loyalties are – whether emotional or mercenary or both – and how very often they trump reason and seek to mitigate great injustices. One could say nobody should have to pay for the sins of the fathers, but those very bonds, and the acceptance of them, suggests otherwise – inheritance can not be selective, it’s all or nothing.