Study Guide

The Odyssey, Books 1-4

This study guide has been adapted from one I created for my World Literature class, so it emphasizes the literary characteristics rather strongly. But I thought you might find the change in emphasis rather interesting, and that this background information might add another dimension to your understanding of the epic. The quotations are all based on Robert Fitzgerald's translation.

See also the page of Odyssey links, as these are likely to answer a number of your questions...and possibly questions you didn't even know you had.

The actual Greek begins with the words "I sing the man!" and then asks for the Muse's help. As the Iliad was a poem about one man's wrath, this is a poem about one man's personality and adventures. There were many more of these epics that made up the Trojan Cycle, but the Iliad and the Odyssey are the only two that survive.

"Homer" is probably not a single person's name, and almost certainly these poems, which are extremely long and were originally meant for oral performance, were composed by many professional bards over many centuries. The word "Homer" means, interestingly enough, "exile" or "hostage." I find it kind of ironic and touching that somebody called "exile" is performing a tale about somebody who wants only to go home.

As you read through all this material about xenia and the xenos, you might want to think about the fact that an exile's very life might depend upon the xenia tradition. No wonder it's emphasized so heavily. As you may recall from our class Zeus page, the xenia tradition was said to come straight from Zeus in his capacity as Zeus Xenios.

The invocation is followed by what is called an argument. The argument of a long poem or a play is a short summary of what is to come. In this poem, the argument extends from line 5 to line 15.

First, we see the extremely personal interference that we saw in the Iliad when Athena came up behind Achilles and actually grabbed him, physically, by the hair. Athena has a personal interest in Odysseus. This makes sense, because she is the goddess of cleverness, and nobody on earth has ever been as clever as Odysseus. Their close personal relationship will continue throughout the poem. Athena tells her father that "my own heart is broken for Odysseus, the master mind of war" (64-65), and she really means it.

This is actually quite a significant moment, as it's one of the earliest representations in literature of a god with a disinterested motive for helping a human being. The old Mesopotamian gods, such as Enki and Ishtar, were interested only in human beings as potential servants. Athena, on the other hand, loves Odysseus for what he is, not for what he can or might do for her. Some scholars see a sexual dimension in Athena's playful, almost flirtation manner toward Odysseus, but since she is the eternal virgin there is no question of her imitating Aphrodite and having a full-blown affair with a human being.

If you want to review Athena's attributes, see our Athena page.

Second, we see a direct supplication to Zeus, similar to the supplication that Thetis made on behalf of her son, Achilles. Zeus was the protector of petitioners for justice, and is frequently depicted in vase paintings accompanied by Themis, the goddess of justice. Remember that his role as the protector of suppliants was as important as his role as upholder of hospitality to guests.

We see another parallel, but in this case to other works as well as the Iliad, in lines 79-80 when Athena tries to get Zeus over onto her side by asking him "Had you no pleasure in Odysseus' offerings/beside the Argive ships, on Troy's wide seaboard?" It's amazing in how many stories we see a focus on the gods' taste for barbecue. Even Noah makes a "burnt offering" as soon as he emerges from his ark (I always figured that explained what must have happened to the unicorn). The Mesopotamian gods were fond of sacrifices, too; in fact, that's one of the major reasons they allowed human beings to exist.

Of course, the true motive behind sacrifice to a deity is the fact that religious sacrifice is an excellent way of focusing the mind on the divine, and in feeling a sense of closeness to the divine presence. Think about why so many people in our own society practice Lent.

Still, I love Zeus's definition of wisdom in lines 85-86: "There is no mortal half so wise; no mortal gave so much to the lords of the open sky." Zeus knows what he likes! Like the mortals we saw in the Greek camp at Troy, Zeus likes stuff. Agamemnon and Achilles fought over Briseis, but that idea of "he who dies with the most toys wins" is one of the main motivations in both Homeric epics--even among the undying gods.

Honor is very dependent on how much you are given, and in Zeus's case he wants to be given sacrifices. You'll see that craving for gifts again and again throughout the poem. If it weren't for greed, most of the events in this story would never occur. When you get to the section about the cave of the Cyclops, for instance, pay attention to the reason Odysseus gives for wanting to hang around until the Cyclops comes home: he's hoping that he can pick up a few guest gifts as well as the items he and his shipmates have already stolen from the Cyclops' storeroom.

88-96: in medias res

Most epics begin in a situation that is called in medias res, which translates from the Latin as "in the middle of things." The Iliad begins in the middle of the Trojan War. The Odyssey begins after Odysseus has been travelling for quite some time, and much of the action takes place in the form of flashback. Here, Zeus recounts for Athena's benefit the story of the blinding of the Cyclops Polyphemus, son of Poseidon, to explain why Poseidon is so angry with Odysseus and has kept him from reaching home. But we won't get the actual blinding scene until Odysseus recounts it himself in Book IX.

Zeus also explains in great detail to Athena exactly who were the parents of Polyphemus. This is of great importance. Remember that the Heroic Bronze Age was intensely patriarchal and aristocratic, and a person's lineage was a matter of the utmost concern. We saw this in the Iliad, as well, in that scene between Diomedes and Glaucus that Richard mentioned in his Week Ten post. As Richard remarked, it seems strangely out of place in the middle of the war. To the Greeks, however, it would have made perfect sense.

When Athena drops in on the home of Odysseus, she finds a house in chaos. The first thing she sees is a group of "lusty suitors," who are after Odysseus's wife (and, with her, his position as king of Ithaka). Look what they're doing: they're "casting dice inside the gate, at ease/on hides of oxen--oxen they had killed" (132-133). This might not sound so odd if it weren't for the fact that not so long ago we heard the poem's argument, which described what happened to Odysseus's men when they took cattle that didn't belong to them. It's an ominous bit of foreshadowing.

Moral of the story: Unless you are Hermes, don't steal somebody else's cattle!

139-224: Xenia and reverence

Notice that Telemakhos is the first person to catch sight of Athena, and he immediately is "irked with himself/to think a visitor had been kept there waiting" (147-148). Obviously, Odysseus's son has excellent manners. But there's more to it than that. Zeus's sacred law of hospitality, xenia, required that a guest be protected and cared for and even given gifts. In a land with a geography like that of Greece, with its many islands and isolated pockets of fertility separated by mountains and rocky ranges, human settlements tended to be rather far apart, and travelers were very much in need of aid. With no Ramada Inn around, they frequently had to rely upon strangers. Thus, they developed the "guest-friend" system, where a xenos (the word means both "guest-friend" and "stranger") would be treated to lavish hospitality with the understanding that the favor would be returned if necessary. The guest-friend relationship extended even to the heirs of the person who had been involved in the original pact, as we can see in Books III and IV when Telemakhos takes advantage of the system to seek news of Odysseus.

Notice also the respect that Telemakhos shows for his absent father. Although Odysseus has been gone for years, Telemakhos keeps him alive in memory. He takes Athena's spear and stores it in "a polished rack/against a pillar where tough spear on spear/of the old soldier, his father, stood in order" (155-157). Even though Telemakhos was only a tiny baby when Odysseus went to war twenty years ago, he treasures his father as a dutiful son should.

Hospitality requires that the guest be fed and made comfortable before the host can ask any questions, but Telemakhos asks as many as he can as soon as he can. This is not only to try to find news of his father, but also to determine what relationship this person has with him. That is, is this somebody who has an established xenos relationship with the family? As you see, Athena makes haste to reassure him by saying "Years back, my family and yours were friends/As Lord Laërtes knows; ask when you see him" (223-224). The reference to Telemakhos's grandfather immediately tells him where he and his guest stand in relation to one another.

344-363: Recognition

Telemakhos offers Athena a gift, as required by xenia, but she forestalls him by disappearing into thin air. At this point he realizes that he has been entertaining a god, and "godlike in his turn he joined the suitors" (363). He now has hope, and because of that hope he's been delivered from despair and is about to go through an abrupt change of personality.

364-462: Telemakhos makes a stand

Now, for the first time, Telemakhos shows initiative. The suitors are listening to the bard sing a song about "the Homecoming of Akhaians": hardly a subject that is likely to please the family of a man who is still missing in action. This is the first appearance of Penelope, who asks him to stop singing on that particular theme.

It may have seemed rather shocking to you to hear Telemakhos, who up until this point has seemed so polite and well-mannered, speak so rudely to his mother. And it might have seemed even more shocking to read her meek and obedient response, where she "gazed in wonder and withdrew,/her son's clear wisdom echoing in her mind" (397-398). Wisdom? Did we miss something, or what?

But one has to keep in mind just how patriarchal and male-centered this society was. Telemakhos has spoken as the head of the house, as if he had a right to authority. Even though his harsh words were directed at her, she now has reason to think that maybe, just maybe, he will grow up in time to get them out of this mess. Telemakhos's youth has been an outright danger to both of them, as nobody respects him. This becomes blatantly obvious in Book II, when he announces his impending departure and the suitors behave in a most disrespectful manner, and then again in Book IV, when the suitors start plotting to kill him.

In an on-line essay, Mary deForest of the University of Colorado compares Telemakhos to the ephebe, or young man engaged in ancient Greek initiation rites:

Telemachus of the Odyssey is the perfect example of an ephebe. He set off from home, young and inexperienced in the ways of the great world. When he returned to Ithaca with news of his father and presents from his father's friends, he possessed a beard. Its existence (mentioned first at Od. 18.173–74) gave Penelope the excuse to trick the invaders of her house. Odysseus, she claimed, had instructed her that, if he did not return, she should wait until Telemachus grew a beard, and then marry again (18.269–70). To get gifts from her suitors, she promised to consider remarriage. By Book 18, clearly, Telemachus had a beard. The logic of hair growth implies that he had one all along. The logic of narrative insists that Telemachus' beard was somehow jump-started by his experiences in the larger world.

Like Telemachus, the ideal ephebe left the security of home. The Athenian ephebes guarded the borders and were drilled in their military exercises. During this two-year period, they were viewed as belonging to an age-group, helicia. They were identified by their tribe, a classification dominated every aspect of Athenian civic life--legal, political, religious, and military. At this unique period of their lives, ephebes lived outside the polis in the wilderness, together as young men.

In the same way, Telemakhos will assert his newfound grown-up authority with Eurykleia, the old nurse, in Book II. When she asks him, rather indulgently, "Dear child, whatever put this in your head?" (381), Telemakhos replies "There's a god behind this plan" (390). Then he makes her promise not to tell his mother "until the eleventh day, or twelfth, or till she misses me, or hears that I am gone" (391-393). He thinks she might not notice he's gone for eleven days? Does this remind you of certain behavior on the part of college students who leave home for the first time? Telemakhos, call your Mom!

Notice how everything in Nestor's kingdom at Pylos is running smoothly and just as it should. The people are on the beach making offerings to the Poseidon, and the region itself is described as full of "plowlands kind with grain" (4), with Pylos itself standing as a "compact stronghold" (6). Compare this with the chaos that rules back home in Ithaka!

Telemakhos's family has a solid xenos relationship with Nestor's family, strengthened by Nestor's ten years in the field with Odysseus at Troy. And when Telemakhos leaves Pylos to visit another family xenos, King Menelaos of Sparta, he takes a companion with him: Nestor's son.

Test your knowledge (or just take some wild guesses...) and play the on-line interactive Odyssey Game. You can choose to be Odysseus himself, Penelope, or Telemakhos, and navigate your way to a happy ending. Even when you make the wrong choices, you always get another chance and you will always be told why your choice was wrong. The set-up is technically simpler than that of the Iliad game, so even if you had trouble with the interface of that one you should have no trouble with this one.