Perhaps too dense for casual readers, but lotus to lovers of Homer.
Brief but rich history of a mysterious bard and two wondrous works that serve as foundation stones for Western culture.
“We don’t know anything about Homer,” bluntly declares prolific polymath Manguel (A Reading Diary: A Passionate Reader’s Reflections on a Year of Books, 2004, etc.). Nor, it seems, do we know much about the composition of The Iliad and The Odyssey, both attributed to him though it’s evident they were assembled by a person or persons from a variety of oral sources. Using principally Robert Fagles’s translations (“among the best and most graceful”), with some kind words for Alexander Pope’s efforts as well, Manguel walks us through the centuries with Odysseus, Achilles, Penelope et al. After a brief, book-by-book summary of each epic—a delight for dilatory high-school students who haven’t prepared for class—he offers a few pages (there can be no more) of speculation about Homer’s identity. Then he marches through intellectual history. Plato, Aristotle, Virgil and others, the author avers, felt the epics’ powerful influence. Early Christians attempted to extract religious principles from the texts. Shakespeare, apparently unfamiliar with them, took Troilus and Cressida from non-Homeric sources. Arabic scholars translated the texts in premedieval times, and Dante plopped Homer in hell. This causes Manguel to pause for an enlightening discussion of Homer’s underworld before continuing his journey into the Renaissance. We learn later that Pope knew no Greek and adapted his monumental translation from others’ work. Byron, Shelley and Mme. de Staël make appearances. Keats’s “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer” appears in its entirety, as does Rupert Brooke’s lovely “Menelaus and Helen.” Nor does the author neglect Tennyson’s memorable lines about the aging Ulysses, home from the wars and bored. Heinrich Schliemann’s quest merits some pages, Joyce and Kazantzakis share a chapter and Walcott and Borges appear too.
Perhaps too dense for casual readers, but lotus to lovers of Homer.Pub Date: Jan. 1, 2008
ISBN: 978-0-87113-976-4
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Atlantic Monthly
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 2007
From the national correspondent for PBS's MacNeil-Lehrer Newshour: a moving memoir of her youth in the Deep South and her role in desegregating the Univ. of Georgia. The eldest daughter of an army chaplain, Hunter-Gault was born in what she calls the ``first of many places that I would call `my place' ''—the small village of Due West, tucked away in a remote little corner of South Carolina. While her father served in Korea, Hunter-Gault and her mother moved first to Covington, Georgia, and then to Atlanta. In ``L.A.'' (lovely Atlanta), surrounded by her loving family and a close-knit black community, the author enjoyed a happy childhood participating in activities at church and at school, where her intellectual and leadership abilities soon were noticed by both faculty and peers. In high school, Hunter-Gault found herself studying the ``comic-strip character Brenda Starr as I might have studied a journalism textbook, had there been one.'' Determined to be a journalist, she applied to several colleges—all outside of Georgia, for ``to discourage the possibility that a black student would even think of applying to one of those white schools, the state provided money for black students'' to study out of state. Accepted at Michigan's Wayne State, the author was encouraged by local civil-rights leaders to apply, along with another classmate, to the Univ. of Georgia as well. Her application became a test of changing racial attitudes, as well as of the growing strength of the civil-rights movement in the South, and Gault became a national figure as she braved an onslaught of hostilities and harassment to become the first black woman to attend the university. A remarkably generous, fair-minded account of overcoming some of the biggest, and most intractable, obstacles ever deployed by southern racists. (Photographs—not seen.)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1992
ISBN: 0-374-17563-2
Page Count: 192
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1992
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.
A light-speed tour of (mostly) Western poetry, from the 4,000-year-old Gilgamesh to the work of Australian poet Les Murray, who died in 2019.
In the latest entry in the publisher’s Little Histories series, Carey, an emeritus professor at Oxford whose books include What Good Are the Arts? and The Unexpected Professor: An Oxford Life in Books, offers a quick definition of poetry—“relates to language as music relates to noise. It is language made special”—before diving in to poetry’s vast history. In most chapters, the author deals with only a few writers, but as the narrative progresses, he finds himself forced to deal with far more than a handful. In his chapter on 20th-century political poets, for example, he talks about 14 writers in seven pages. Carey displays a determination to inform us about who the best poets were—and what their best poems were. The word “greatest” appears continually; Chaucer was “the greatest medieval English poet,” and Langston Hughes was “the greatest male poet” of the Harlem Renaissance. For readers who need a refresher—or suggestions for the nightstand—Carey provides the best-known names and the most celebrated poems, including Paradise Lost (about which the author has written extensively), “Kubla Khan,” “Ozymandias,” “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” Wordsworth and Coleridge’s Lyrical Ballads, which “changed the course of English poetry.” Carey explains some poetic technique (Hopkins’ “sprung rhythm”) and pauses occasionally to provide autobiographical tidbits—e.g., John Masefield, who wrote the famous “Sea Fever,” “hated the sea.” We learn, as well, about the sexuality of some poets (Auden was bisexual), and, especially later on, Carey discusses the demons that drove some of them, Robert Lowell and Sylvia Plath among them. Refreshingly, he includes many women in the volume—all the way back to Sappho—and has especially kind words for Marianne Moore and Elizabeth Bishop, who share a chapter.
Necessarily swift and adumbrative as well as inclusive, focused, and graceful.Pub Date: April 21, 2020
ISBN: 978-0-300-23222-6
Page Count: 304
Publisher: Yale Univ.
Review Posted Online: Feb. 8, 2020
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 1, 2020
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