Latest news with #TheIliad
Indian Express
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Indian Express
10 books that breathe new life into Greek mythology
Written By Prachi Mishra Greek mythology and its stories of love, power, betrayal, and tragedy have fascinated many generations. But let's also take a look at some of the writers and their works who are reframing these corpus and telling it from the perspective of characters that were once silenced or sidelined. In these retellings, the familiar myths take on unexpected turns. Circe is no longer a mere witch from The Odyssey instead she is a woman finding her voice and Briseis, the enslaved Trojan queen, becomes the heart of The Iliad in The Silence of the Girls or Medusa is no longer a monster rather she is a girl punished for surviving violence. Here are ten books that reimagine ancient myths with fresh emotion and new profound meaning. 'I had been old and stern and strong. I had been young and silly and weak. And now? Now I was something else.' While in Homer's Odyssey, Circe is a witch who transformed men into swine, Madeline Miller gives her so much more: goddess, exile, lover, mother. Told in the voice of Circe, the novel narrates the lonely childhood she spent amidst cruel gods, her banishment to a remote island, and the centuries spent in learning herbs, magic, and herself. It's a quiet yet powerful journey of a woman making her own decisions and choosing her own destiny. Moreover, Miller uses poetic and reflective writing style which does not try to hide Circe's vulnerabilities even though she becomes stronger. 'Now that I'm dead, I know everything.' We have all heard about the story of Penelope, the faithful wife of Odysseus who waited for twenty years for her husband to return. But, in Atwood's The Penelopiad, she gets the chance to tell her side of the story in a very witty and sharp manner. Atwood also gives voice to the twelve handmaids who were hanged at Odysseus' command. And, thus a clearly distinct result comes in front. Told with wit and lyricism, the book questions what justice really means in a world built by men, and whether myth can ever do justice to women. 'The world is made of choices. Some we make. Some are made for us.' Alcestis is the woman who gives her life to save the life of her husband. In Katherine Beutner's reworking, we follow her not only to the world of the dead but on a journey of self-discovery, yearning, and rebellion. Down in the underworld, Alcestis encounters Persephone and starts to question all she had ever thought about love, duty, and sacrifice. The novel is rich in the sense that it's meditative, quietly yet fiercely questions things and also explores queer identity. It is less about lofty mythic grandeur and more about the soft insurgence of claiming one's very own existence. 'They were gods. But they weren't necessarily good at it.' What happens to Greek gods when they lose their divine power? They are crammed into a dilapidated booth-flat in London and try to cope with the modern world in Marie Phillips' side-splitting novel. Apollo fancies himself a TV psychic, badly at that, Artemis walks other people's dogs, and Aphrodite is doing some heavy stirring up of trouble. It all threatens to become a mess of divine drama when a mortal couple gets caught up in it all. This book goes all witty and irreverent, not caring for itself much and that is its charm. It reminds us that myths, just like humans, can be merely ridiculous and lovable at one go. 'What will they make of us, those who come after?' Pat Barker gives The Iliad a new interpretation through the eyes of Briseis, a Trojan queen turned war-captive in the hands of Achilles. Apart from being stripped of her name, power, and voice, she only remains as a silent witness to the so-called glory of war. Barker's novel is raw and haunting, filled with the quiet suffering of women erased from heroic tales. The novel just narrates the truth, and provides no easy redemption or proper closure. Briseis, in her quiet manner, describes her story through the noise of battle with heart-wrenching honesty. 'They turned me into a monster. And I became one.' We all are well-versed with the story of Medusa, a monster with snakes for hair, but Jessie Burton provides a gentler, sadder version of her. In this beautifully illustrated novel, Medusa is a teenage girl cursed for a crime she didn't commit, sent into exile on a lonely island whose only company consisted of the snakes that sprouted from her scalp. And, when a boy named Perseus arrives, her world is transformed again. This version doesn't cast her as evil, instead, it reveals the girl behind the myth-full of pain, wonder, and rage. 'This is not Theseus' story. It is mine.' Ariadne, who is simply known for helping Theseus defeat the Minotaur, only to be later abandoned on an island. But Jennifer Saint gives her character a richer and more complex voice. Ariadne is not just a helping hand or lover, but she is also given the role of a sister, a mother, a woman living in a world shaped by gods and betrayals. Saint has written the novel by infusing prose with the characteristics of poetry and explored the themes of sacrifice, sorrow, and the emotional burden and pain of unrequited love. The story is also about two sisters, Ariadne and Phaedra, who are attempting to hold on to whatever agency they have in stories that were never theirs to begin with. 'This was never the story of one woman, or two. It was the story of them all.' What if the Trojan War was not documented in the words of the warriors but instead from those left behind by the war? A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes sets in the voices of countless females from myth-rooting queens, slaves, sisters, goddesses, and survivors. From Penelope writing to Odysseus, to Cassandra cursed with visions, every chapter casts another dimension over well-known tales. The tone is lyrical, somewhat wise, and all too often angry. It's a reminder that history is written by victors but, if told well, stories can belong to anybody. 'The Greeks gave us logic. The myths gave us meaning.' The origin stories of Greek mythology, from the birth of Chaos to the ascent of Zeus, are retold with warmth and humour by British author and comedian Stephen Fry in his book Mythos. It's the type of book that turns myths into stories for the dinner table. It's detailed, funny, and surprisingly emotional as well. Anyone interested in the Greek gods and their complex relationships should start with this book because of Fry's conversational, contemporary, and engrossing narration style. 'The old stories refused to die, and so they became something else.' In the modern world, every seven years the gods are hunted by descendants of ancient bloodlines, and if killed, the killers inherit their powers. Lore, the last descendant of Perseus, does not want to be involved in any bloodshed. But, when wounded Athena and childhood friend Castor seek her help, Lore is reluctantly dragged back into the war she tried to leave behind. Bracken's Lore is a blend of mythology and urban fantasy, delivering a very gritty attitude toward ancient power struggles. The action is grueling fun, but beneath it all lies a very human question: can we choose who we become?
Epoch Times
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Epoch Times
‘An Iliad': A One-Man Triumph at the Court Theatre
CHICAGO—Imagine being in a room with the most famous poet in antiquity, the man whose storytelling influenced literature for ages, and listening to him regale you with events that took place during the most important event in ancient Greek history: the siege of Troy. This unforgettable experience is unfolding at the Court Theatre in Chicago. Based Homer's 'The Iliad,' (circa 850 century B.C.), this work, titled 'An Iliad,' is co-authored by Lisa Peterson and Denis O'Hare. It's a one-man play of Homer's epic poem that tells the story of the 10-year war between two civilizations. It's also a perfect choice for the Court's mission to reimagine classic works for contemporary audiences. A Classic Work of Great Depth For the longest time, scholars believed that Troy was a mythological place, but recent archeological excavations have led many archeologists to believe that Troy really existed. Its remains are at Hisarlik, a city situated in modern-day Turkey.
Los Angeles Times
05-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Los Angeles Times
‘The Life of Chuck' is an apocalyptic, soul-seeking puzzle that's missing a few pieces
How narcissistic to believe you're living in the end times. The thought might cross your mind — I'm guilty of it, sure — but it can be chased off by imagining how it felt to witness the Dust Bowl or the French Revolution or the fall of Tenochtitlan. 'The Life of Chuck,' a sentimental jigsaw puzzle by Mike Flanagan ('Doctor Sleep') from a 50-page 2020 novella by Stephen King, argues the opposite. Here, in this backward-structured triptych of short tales, the death of an ordinary accountant, Chuck Krantz (Tom Hiddleston), is the end times, at least for the characters in his head. Marty (Chiwetel Ejiofor), his ex-wife Felicia (Karen Gillan) and their friends and co-workers don't know their catastrophic existence is merely a dying man's reverie. Their reality is that the Earth is collapsing, even as every surface is suddenly covered with confounding billboards and commercials thanking whoever some Chuck is for '39 great years.' Of what? No one knows. 'He's our last meme,' Marty jokes. In Chuck years, the film starts when he's 39 and in his final hours of fading away from brain cancer, rewinds to nine months earlier and then leaps back to his boyhood. As the film trudges from his hospice bed to his youth, we'll come to see that the doomed townsfolk have the same faces and mannerisms of people Chuck knew as a child. It's a heartening, humanistic thesis that even a rather dull dude like Chuck has an inner life that rivals 'The Iliad.' Paradoxically, that way of thinking belongs specifically to storytellers like King, who make up whole yarns about anonymous humans on the street. My mental landscape may just be grocery lists and song lyrics. To emphasize its timeline, the movie titles its first section Act Three. The book did the same thing. 'The Life of Chuck' is a nearly line-by-line faithful adaptation, with a few more jokes and heavy use of a narrator, Nick Offerman, who reads King's words with a nature documentarian's gusto. Originally, King was inspired only to write the middle-aged Chuck chapters, and then a year later he bound those pieces together by adding the boyhood kicker and its superfluous supernatural element. In his author's note, King said he'd leave the success of his narrative architecture 'up to readers to determine.' Well, it doesn't work. But I can see why he tried the rearrangement. The closing section has the most Chuck, which makes it the most banal. An orphan who lives with his grandparents, Albie and Sarah (Mark Hamill and Mia Sara), Chuck pads through a rather milquetoast coming-of-age sketch. He endures loss, visits his neighbor Vera (Heather Langenkamp) and along the line learns to waltz, samba and moonwalk. (Young Chuck is played at various ages by Cody Flanagan, Benjamin Pajak and Jacob Tremblay.) He also discovers a mystical portal at the top of the stairs that the script doesn't satisfyingly explore. Instead, it simply muddles the everyman point of the film. If you started the movie at the end, you wouldn't be champing to find out what happens next. But the apocalyptic opening act is pretty great. For 15 minutes, nearly every line of dialogue could be an elevator pitch for a Roland Emmerich movie: earthquakes in California, volcanoes in Germany, a nuclear meltdown in Japan. All these calamities are happening simultaneously — so many disasters coming at such speed that the bad news slams into Marty like a psychological avalanche. Luckily, the internet is also glitching, causing a vicarious thrill when Marty quits trying to get service and throws away his phone. There's a stand-out scene where Matthew Lillard, playing Marty's acquaintance Gus, advises him to take a detour to work as a sinkhole has just opened up on the road to his commute. Twenty drivers are trapped at the bottom, some of whom, Gus says nonchalantly, are 'probably not coming out.' The incomprehensibility of it all, of every awful thing wreaking havoc at once, has Gus in a state of jocular shock. Until almost without him aware of it, a tear slips loose. We don't see much of this destruction on-screen. Flanagan is strictly interested in what futility does to the human soul — and how it can be a salve, too. By his reckoning, suicide and marriage rates will rise. Gillan's Felicia, who is both a despondent nurse and a lonely divorcée, nicely illustrates why. I'm inclined to believe him, and it's also a gas to eavesdrop on Marty's parent-teacher conferences, where the adults no longer give a flying fig about their kids' futures. One dad (David Dastmalchian) spends the session whining about his inability to pull up internet porn. Mood-wise, this first section is magnificently done (although the celestial spa-music score by the Newton Brothers is a twinkle too much). In the spirit of schadenfreude, I'd have happily watched a whole additional hour of this Chuck-driven armageddon where, as his body collapses, the stars in the sky blink out one by one. Pity as its title character gains health, the film loses its verve. The second act is a likable, fragile bubble of an idea. One afternoon before his terminal diagnosis, the adult Chuck takes a stroll and spontaneously dazzles a crowd with a dance number done in wordless alliance with two strangers, a lovelorn book clerk (Annalise Basso) and a street drummer (Taylor Gordon). The performance is elaborate and delightful and impeccably choreographed, with Hiddleston doing long-legged strides as though he's the second coming of Christopher Walken. Like the film's central conceit, it's about making magic out of the mundane. Shrewdly, once the exuberance ends, Flanagan lets the blahs back in. The musical trio regresses into that awkwardness of knowing they've shared a special moment, but there isn't much left to say to each other besides so long and good luck. The movie has a key advantage over the book. Flanagan can visually emphasize that Chuck's mind contains a universe of memories. For starters, he's double-cast many of the actors; tragic Marty was once a teacher who young Chuck spotted in the hall. (To my disappointment, we never spot Lillard and Dastmalchian again.) But even the casting itself deliberately tugs on our own memories. An unusual number of the supporting players are beloved for one famous role — not just big parts, but eternal parts — that have so immortalized them in the public's consciousness that their fictional identities have supplanted their real ones. Hamill, of course, was in 'Star Wars,' Sara in 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off,' Langenkamp in 'A Nightmare on Elm Street' and Lillard in 'Scream.' If it was just one or two icons, you might not bat an eye. But at this concentration, the film itself is making a statement even to the most grocery list-minded of us. There are faces who will live in our brains until we die. As philosophical puzzles go, 'The Life of Chuck' doesn't add up to much. But I'm glad I saw it for one reason. A few days later, I was recounting the plot to a friend at a Koreatown steakhouse that had just opened for the afternoon. We were alone in a back booth when the waiter approached and said he'd overheard us mention moonwalking. He hit play on his phone and began to pop and lock and, yes, attempt to moonwalk on the carpet. Thinking of the message of the movie — that these might ultimately be the only moments that matter — I forced myself to stand up and join him in doing the robot. Together, we made magic out of the mundane and it was marvelous.
Chicago Tribune
27-05-2025
- Politics
- Chicago Tribune
Column: Memorial Day is a time for reflection, not politics
Memorial Day, which was celebrated on May 26, is a cause for contemplation and also renewal. Parades featuring people in uniform — those currently serving, those who have served, and those who protect us — should always be welcome. Military uniforms at such ceremonies are important. Crude partisan declarations are completely out of place. From ancient times, parades have been vital to the reintegration of warriors into society. War is profoundly disruptive and disturbing, not to mention dangerous. Even the rare man or woman who finds combat invigorating and rewarding is in severe need of returning home after the killing ends. Homer, chronicler of the Trojan War, was extremely sensitive to this. His great classic is divided into two parts. 'The Iliad' focuses on the fighting and related associations involving Greeks and Trojans; 'The Odyssey' describes the very long voyage home of Greek leader Ulysses and his men. They traverse allegorical geography, struggling to put the horrors behind them. Gen. George S. Patton Jr., a very great American combat leader, was extremely mindful of this dimension. A special ceremony in the Los Angeles Coliseum after the surrender of Nazi Germany featured Patton and Gen. James Doolittle, who led the first air raid on Tokyo not long after Pearl Harbor. Patton celebrated the accomplishments of his Third Army in the victorious drive across Europe. In honoring his troops, he stressed in particular the 40,000 who lost their lives. Patton made such statements regularly in the few months remaining of his own life. In World War II, people liberated from Axis occupation welcomed Allied troops. Understandably, our media gave special emphasis to this dimension. The Korean War created very strong bonds between the U.S. and the people, as well as a very effective military of South Korea. The first Gulf War liberated an oppressed population. The Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan wars were different. During Vietnam, the Pentagon urged, sometimes ordered, personnel to practice public anonymity. Opposition to the war became hostility toward our own military. There was no collective welcome home. Many aging veterans of that war suffer without a Ulysses, troubled and troublesome, sometimes criminally. Afghanistan and Iraq war controversy did not target our military. Visits to Washington, D.C., provide reminders of the visibility of the uniformed military, especially on public transportation. President Richard Nixon's decisive end of the military draft was crucial in the change. However, the often-rapid rotation of personnel back to overseas missions is unfair, as well as counterproductive. Enormous psychological strains join physical danger, and families suffer heavily. The all-professional military is segregated from wider society. This, in turn, facilitates frequent personnel rotation overseas, a problem that developed destructively during the Clinton administration. The military remains a vital engine for equality and opportunity. Gen. Colin Powell and many others have demonstrated the point. Powell, from modest origins, achieved the most senior civilian and military posts in our government. Powell noted he experienced discrimination in the South, but never on post. Our military emphasizes merit. Memorial Day provides the opportunity to recognize a commitment to fairness. Encourage veterans to run for office. We won the Cold War in part because experienced veterans served in government. Every U.S. president from Harry Truman through George H.W. Bush was a veteran. Today, things are different. The all-volunteer military is not broadly representative. What we need above all is the sort of sensible realism that women and men who served bring to policy. Learn more: 'Patton – A Genius for War,' by Carlo D'Este, and the film 'Patton.'
Scroll.in
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
Rethinking the classics: Homer's ‘The Iliad' is a rap battle
Homer's The Iliad is one of the foundational stories of European civilisation. The Iliad is a long poem – an epic – thought to have first been put down in writing in the eighth century BC, though the story is set several hundred years before, perhaps as early as the 12th or 13th century BC. It explores a few crucial violent weeks within a much longer war between an alliance of Greek city-states and the city of Troy over Helen, the most beautiful woman in the world. In it, we find ancient Greek gods and humans sharing a common reality. They concurrently star as the central characters of both a mythological and an earthly dramatic encounter, on which the fate of a people rests. In his work, public philosopher Cornel West argues that there is a 'gangster' inside all of us. The challenge, West teaches, is to learn to keep these 'gangster elements' in check so that we can still live with decency and integrity in an often violent and unjust world. This struggle, I contend, is at the heart of both Homer's The Iliad and the art of battle rap. Battle rap is an art form where two or more MCs confront one another in a freestyle rap that includes boasts, insults, wordplay and disses (related to but not to be confused with rap beefs like the Kendrick Lamar and Drake feud). The history of this kind of verbal jousting goes back at least to flyting – poetic duels usually involving rhyming insults, widespread in northern Europe in the late medieval era. (See Assassin's Creed Valhalla for its recent reimagining.) And it also has African roots. But its latest iteration is thought to have emerged in the hip-hop scene in New York in the 1980s. The 1981 Busy Bee versus Kool Moe Dee battle at the Harlem World club in New York is an important part of hip-hop lore. It was arguably the 2002 film 8 Mile, however, that starred real battle rap legend, Eminem, that made the art form well known beyond hardcore rap aficionados. Today it is a pop culture streaming event, with millions of followers and official leagues. The object of a battle rap is to display flow, braggadocio and quick wit. Humour is often a plus, but lyrically dexterous, rhythmic, creative 'burns' are the name of the game. So what do The Iliad and battle rap have in common? Both art forms encourage us, the listeners, to react, reflect and ultimately select with which speaker to side. We are thrust into the centre of the action without much of a narrator to explain things. Both The Iliad and rap battles are part of the oral poetic tradition, since we think The Iliad was orally recited for generations before it was put down in writing. They are therefore both addressed to a live audience. The Iliad is a story of war between Greeks and Trojans, but also of 'beefs'. Menelaus versus Paris over the hand of Helen. Achilles versus Agamemnon, the king of the Greeks who wrongs him by expropriating one of his slaves. And Achilles versus Hector, the Trojan prince who kills Patroclus, Achilles's closest friend. The high moment of the poem is arguably the encounter between Achilles and Hector. Before they battle to the death, Hector offers Achilles a deal: whoever wins won't disrespect the other's body. In response, Achilles belows: 'Curse you, Hector, and don't talk of oaths to me. Lions and men make no compacts, nor are wolves and lambs in sympathy: they are opposed, to the end. You and I are beyond friendship: nor will there be peace until one or the other dies.' Achilles is calling out Hector's attempt at showing nobility of character, because Hector tries to separate the duty to wage conflict from rage and disrespect of his enemy. Achilles flatly rejects the proposal. For him, the only reason to fight is to satiate his grief-induced rage and so no respect can be given even after death. Ultimately, Achilles kills Hector and desecrates his body, but Hector was clearly the better man. Two worldviews collide. Which one should we side with? In a battle rap, the question of how we judge which MC to be victorious is always at stake. Do we side with the MC who best 'rocks the mic' by pleasing the audience, or the one who more lyrically and intelligently cuts the opponent to the bone? Here are five more themes shared by The Iliad and battle rap. The pursuit of fame Battle rap has made gifted MCs into street rap legends. Long before record deals were the prize, MCs battled for respect and street fame. This pursuit of legendary status also lies at the very heart of The Iliad, as Achilles is warned by his mother, the goddess Thetis, that he will die if he fights in the Trojan war, but in return his 'glory never dies'. Communal belonging Battle rappers and the warriors in The Iliad act in their own name but they also represent wider groups heralding from different places. They all, in some way, carry responsibility for and aim to bring reflected fame to their respective communities. Displaying skill Most battle raps take the form of a take down of the opponent, but the real object is to demonstrate verbal prowess. Simply entertaining will not cut it. 'You now have to make sense of what you say, in order for us to give you the power,' summarises hip-hop legend KRS-One. The Iliad opens with a muse telling the audience that the epic will recount the 'wrath of Achilles', but in fact we find skilful interventions in speech that make us wonder whether the reasons for conflict can ever justify the grief it causes. An honour code What is truly worth living and dying for are central themes in The Iliad, as in battle rap. There we find talk of loyalty, honour, respect, courage, friendship and fame. The overt answers given can be taken as embraces of a certain kind of toxic masculinity where dominance, rage, cunning and violence are celebrated, but maybe these answers subtly point to their ultimate hollowness. Lurking behind the repeated injunction to 'be the best', battle rap and Homer's epic invite the question of what is truly worth admiring: skill, dominance, wealth, integrity, courage, beauty, truth, justice, love or glory? They provide no singular answer. Creativity and living within the 'funk' of life Instead, we are left to sit within what West calls the 'funk of life' – the mess of it all. From there, we can see that the stories we tell ourselves have the power to shape and define our actions and our very lives. So the main question becomes: at a time when simplistic stories of violence and domination are presented to us as easy answers to complex social realities, can we create new and richer stories of our own? Joshua Forstenzer, Senior Lecturer in Philosophy and Co-Director of the Centre for Engaged Philosophy, University of Sheffield.
