The Odyssey: A reader's report

Homer, The Odyssey

Personally, I like this book. A good yarn, exciting, packed with adventure. Sufficient love interest, both marital fidelity and adulterous flings (Calypso is a great character, a real man-eater); there's even a Lolita aspect, with the teenager Nausicaa, where the author doesn't spell things out, but it's a turn-on anyway. Great dramatic moments, a one-eyed giant, cannibals, even some drugs, but nothing illegal, because as far as I know the lotus isn't on the Narcotic Bureau's list. The final scene is in the best tradition of the Western: some heavy fist-swinging, and the business with the bow is a masterstroke of suspense.

What can I say? it's a page turner, all right, not like the author's first book, which was too static, all concerned with unity of place and tediously over-plotted. By the time the reader reached the thord battle and tenth duel he already got the idea. Remember how the Achilles-Patroclus story, with that vein of not-so-latent homosexuality, got us into trouble with the Boston authorities? But this second book is a totally different thing: it reads as smooth as silk. The tome is calmer, pondered but not ponderous. And then the montage, the use of flashbacks, the stories within stories . . . In a word, this Homer is the right stuff. He's smart.

Too smart, maybe . . . I wonder if it's all really his own work. I know, of course, a writer can improve with experience (his third book will probably be a sensation), but what makes me uncomfortable - and finally, leads me to cast a negative vote - is the mess the question of rights will cause. I broached the subject with a friend at William Morris, and I get bad vibes.

In the first place, the author's nowhere to be found. People who knew him say it was always hard to discuss any changes to be made in the text, because he was blind as a bat, couldn't follow the manuscript, and even gave the impression he wasn't completely familiar with it. He quoted from memory, was never sure exactly what he had written, and said the typist added things. Did he really write the book or did he just sign it?

No big deal, of course. Editing has become an art, and many books are patched together in the editor's office or written by several hands (like Mommy Dearest) and still turn out to be bestsellers. But this second book, there is too mich unclear about it. Michael says the rights don't belong to Homer, and certain aeolian bards will have to be paid off, since they are due royalties on some parts.

A literary agent who works out of Chios says the rights belong to the local rhapsodiest, who virtually ghosted the book, but it's not clear whether are active members of that island's Writers' Guild. A PR in Smyrna, on the other hand, says the rights belong exclusively to Homer, only he's dead, and therefore the city is entitled to all royalties. But Smyrna isn't the only city that makes such a claim. The impossibility of establishing if and when Homer died means we can't invoke the '43 law regarding works published fifty years after the author's death. At this point a character by the name of Callinus pops up, insisting not only that he holds all rights but that, along with The Odyssey, we must buy a package including Thebais, Epigoni, and The Cyprian Lays. Apart from the fact that these aren't worth a dime, a number of experts think they're not even by Homer. And how do we market them? These people are talking big bucks now, and they're seeing how far they can push us. I tried asking Aristarchus of Samothrace for a preface; he has clout, and he's a good writer, too, and I thought maybe he could tidy the work up. But he wants to indicate, in the body of the book, what's authenthic and what isn't; we end up with a critical edition and zilch sales. Better leave the whole thing to some university press that will take twenty years to produce the book, which they'll price at a couple hundred dollars a copy, and maybe a few libraries will actually buy it.

Bottom line: if we take the plunge we're getting ourselves into an endless legal hassle, the book will be impounded, but not like one of those sex books, which they then sell under the counter. This one will just be seized and forgotten. Maybe ten years from now Oxford will buy it for The World's Classics, but in the meantime you'll have spent your money, and it'll be a long wait before you'll see any of it again.

I'm really sorry, because the book's not bad. But we're publishers, not detectives. So I'd say pass.



Umberto Eco, 'Regretfully, We Are Returning Your . . .', Misreadings, 34-37