Over the weekend I managed to squeeze in some reading for fun. Having been lazy for so long in my reading through of all the ancient Greek plays, and having had Sophocles sitting by my bed for nearing two months (poor guy, he’s probably hungry too since I haven’t fed him anything, but then maybe he’s been sneaking food from the fridge when I am gone at work during the day), I decided to read Oedipus the King. Even though I’ve come to the conclusion that Robert Fagles isn’t a translation god and that older translations are, if not necessarily as accurate, more poetic, I have the Fagles version of the play.
It’s been (incoherent mumbling) years since I first read the play in high school and then again as an undergrad in college. I always thought of it what my teachers told me to and didn’t care to actually think about it on my own. Is it any wonder then that my memory of the play is different than the play itself? And as I read the play I kept thinking, “where’s all this hubris business that I remember teachers drilling into my head?” Sure Oedipus is a proud man, he’s king of Thebes after all and he solved the Sphinx’s riddle when no one else could. But I didn’t find him inordinately proud.
Instead of hubris bursting at the seams, what I found instead was a play dripping with irony. How wonderful and tension-creating is that irony too. I can imagine the Greeks in Athens watching the play for the first time must have been on the edge of their seats, wringing their hands in anxiety and waiting with anticipation both delightful and dreadful, for the moment when Oedipus finds out the truth.
I also remember that Tiresias was a great and awe inspiring figure so that I somehow have a hushed reverence for the blind prophet. What a surprise that he’s kind of a jerk. When he is brought before Oedipus he refuses to provide the information for which he has been sent. He keeps refusing and hinting at something ominous in such a way that it makes Oedipus angry and then Tiresias gets angry at Oedipus for getting angry at him and even then he doesn’t tell it out straight, he leaves him with a riddle since Oedipus is so good at riddles. Far from feeling any kind of reverence for Tiresias, I wanted to give him a good whack or two for his impertinence.
And then the ending with Jocasta hanging herself, I had no recollection of that. And Oedipus, blinding himself with a brooch from his dead wife’s robe. We don’t get to see the hanging or the blinding but the kind palace guard describes it in great detail and I keep having flashes in my mind at random moments of Oedipus scratching and jabbing his eyes with the pin, blood gushing everywhere while he cries out in pain and anguish.
I enjoyed the play much more than my teachers ever allowed me to in the past. I am glad I read it again instead of skipping it as I originally thought I might.
Your accounts of the Greek plays always make me laugh! It’s so good to return to something and find it improved and deepened by the passage of years and maturity. I haven’t read the Sophocles, but if you’re ever interested, Flaubert wrote a short story (in Trois Contes/Three Tales) entitled The Legend of Saint Julien, which is his own personal remake of Oedipus and it’s a-maz-ing. Not to mention very perplexing.
I haven’t read “Oedipus the King” yet, but I had to read “Antigone” for school. I thought it was interesting (certainly far more so than everything else I needed to study) and I liked the Greek tragedy style. I figure a good peek at Oedipus without teachers telling me what to think would actually result in some appreciation. I’ll have to revisit Antigone in a few years as well, just to see if I like it even more without my horrible literature teacher in the wings…
I am particularly sensitive about eye wounding and Oedipus has always freaked me out because of this. I’ve read the play several times and always get caught up on the image of him jabbing his eyes out. Yuck. But what a metaphor for denial!
No need for incoherent mumbling here, the ringing in my ears will probably keep me from hearing it anyhow. High school can’t have been all that long ago.
Good luck with the Greek playwrights hanging around the bedroom.
Robert Fagles has been my translator of choice too even though I know he has some shortcomings. But, his translation of Virgil’s Aenid was nothing short of brilliant. I haven’t read his Oedipus the King, but maybe it’s time for me to reread the play as well.
It’s interesting how differently we remember things made to read in school, compared to reading them as an adult, with our own perspective on things. I’ve been thinking about reading Hundred Years of Solitude again; I remember well all the symbolism-meanings my class discussions emphasized, but wonder what I will think of it on my own now, with fifteen years distance from school readings.
I’m imagining an alternate universe in which your teachers went on and on about irony, and now as an adult rereading it, you’re struck by the hubris
Well, I place a lot of blame at the feet of the Oracle of Delphi. I mean, if he’s going to tell poor old Oedipus that he’s going to kill his father and sleep with his mother, he ought to have spilled the beans entirely, don’t you think? Of course, then Sophocles wouldn’t have much of a story, would he? :> Nice, nice review – as usual.
You have such a flair for bringing the classics to life. It’s always somewhat of a revelation to reread something decades later. Evidently we do change after high school/college/years.
Oh, I’ve received The Solitude of Prime Numbers yesterday! I’m hoping to have a chance to read it over the long weekend.
Litlove, I am glad they make you laugh, I am having a good time with them. And thanks for the Flaubert story recommendation. I am sure I can find at the library.
Bibliobio, oh Antigone is a good one. I read it for the first time earlier this year and enjoyed it. I’m sure you will like re-reading it.
Verbivore, eye gouging seems to be a popular thing in plays. Is it Glouster in King Lear that gets his eyes gouged out?
Bikkuri, lol
I don’t let the playwrights stand in corners or behind doors though, their togas look too ghost-like in the dark.
Mike, glad to know that the Aenid is brilliant. I will be getting to that one eventually.
Jeane, you are right, it is amazing how time and experience brings such a different perspective to our reading. I think it is fun to be able to compare past and present.
Dorothy, you’re too funny!
Grad, thanks Grad. You’re right, the Oracle is the one who makes all the trouble, but don’t tell Apollo I said that!
Carrie, ah you’re so kind! Thank goodness we change after high school/college! I don’t think I could live with myself if we didn’t! Glad you got the book. I hope you enjoy it!
I don’t recall every reading this play–I’m very shaky on those Greeks, but you make it sound fun. Imagine staging a play with not only a hanging but also a stabbing–and in the eye no less. That Must have been entertaining.