Meta Description: Join Gurgle Ep. 9 as Dr. David Noe and Dr. Jeff Winkle review Richard Whittaker’s critique of three recent Odyssey translations by Emily Wilson, Peter Green, and A. Verity!


Welcome back to Gurgle, the bite-sized podcast from the creators of Ad Navseam! Designed to whet your appetite for classical antiquity, Gurgle tickles your taste buds and leaves you wanting more from the vomitorium.

In this episode, hosts Dr. David C. Noe and Dr. Jeffrey T. Winkle dive into a thought-provoking 2020 article by scholar Richard Whittaker published in Acta Classica, entitled “Homer’s Odyssey Three Ways: Recent Translations by Verity, Wilson and Green”. Dave first encountered Whittaker’s article through a podcast interview with Greek scholar Jireh Gorda. The discussion is especially timely given news that director Christopher Nolan’s upcoming film project is reportedly based on Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey.

Before dissecting the texts, Dave opens with a memorable quote from reviewer Frederick Manning regarding Arnold Toynbee: “It was advisable that a translator from Greek into English should know at least one of the two languages with which he deals.” With that sharp piece of wit setting the stage, the hosts explore how three modern translators approach the foundational epic of Greek literature.

Translation for Students vs. Artistic Reinterpretation

Whittaker begins his article by establishing a critical distinction regarding the fundamental purpose of any translation. If we set aside loose artistic reinterpretations—such as James Joyce’s Ulysses or the Coen brothers’ film O Brother, Where Art Thou?—we must evaluate a translation based on its intended audience.

While artistic adaptations exist as autonomous works of art to be judged on their own creative merits, academic translations have a specific obligation. Two of the volumes under review (A. Verity’s and Peter Green’s) were published by university presses, while the third (Emily Wilson’s) was published by W.W. Norton, a major provider of college textbooks. Their primary purpose is explicitly to present Homer’s epic to first-time readers and university students for serious academic study.

When evaluating a text meant for first-time students of classical authors, clarity, accuracy, and fidelity to the original Greek text are paramount. An academic translation must accurately convey what Homer wrote, rather than imposing a modern interpreter’s personal agenda onto the ancient material.

Emily Wilson’s Heterodox Odyssey: Innovation or Distortion?

Emily Wilson’s translation received the vast majority of Whittaker’s attention, as well as the bulk of public publicity. Upon its release, Wilson’s version was met with a massive promotional campaign, earning glowing endorsements from “the great and the good.” However, Whittaker argues that despite this media fanfare, Wilson has failed to produce a reliable academic translation suitable for first-time students or undergraduates.

Whittaker contends that Wilson’s translation relies on two major novelties:

While a scholar is free to offer a heterodox literary interpretation in an essay, Whittaker demonstrates that Wilson can sustain this sympathetic view of the suitors and monsters only by distorting and misrepresenting the underlying Greek text.

Prejudicing the Hero: Polymetis and the “Lord of Lies”

Whittaker highlights how Wilson repeatedly prejudices her readers against Odysseus. At the very beginning of Odysseus’s long narrative of his wanderings, Wilson warns the reader not to trust the hero by rendering his stock epithet, polymetis—traditionally translated as “wily Odysseus” or “man of many wiles” (Verity) or “resourceful” (Green)—as “Lord of lies” or “lying Odysseus.”

Jeff points out why this translation is fundamentally misleading for students of Greek literature history. To the ancient Greeks, metis represented a specific form of crafty, resourceful wisdom—the very quality embodied by the goddess Athena. Demonstrating metis was viewed as an inherent virtue for a Homeric hero, not a moral defect. By labeling Odysseus the “Lord of lies,” Wilson projects modern, post-Christian moral sensitivities regarding truth-telling backward into a 3,000-year-old epic where boasting and shrewdness were celebrated.

Exaggerating Violence and Softening the Suitors

Whittaker provides further evidence of this imbalance. When Odysseus threatens the beggar Iris before their fight, Green accurately translates: “I will splatter your breast and lips with your blood.” Wilson, pushing her own agenda, ramps the violence up to: “I will crack your ribs and smash your face to bloody pulp.” Later, when the suitors are slain, Wilson has Odysseus himself refer to their killing as “murder”—an implausible phrasing for an ancient Greek hero who viewed the execution of intruders as legitimate moral vengeance.

Conversely, Wilson consistently plays down the wickedness of Odysseus’s adversaries. She describes the suitors’ grave offenses as “annoying but rather trivial faults,” calling them merely “immature young men” who “behaved badly.” When Odysseus describes the suitors in Book 16 (line 410) as possessing hyperbion hubrin, Verity translates “men of violent insolence” and Green renders “so outrageous and arrogant.” Wilson dramatically softens the line, calling them merely “ungentlemanly suitors.” In doing so, she ignores that the suitors repeatedly plotted to assassinate Odysseus’s son, Telemachus, and forcibly seize his household.

Polyphemus: The Sympathetic “Pastoralist”

Wilson applies the same tendentious approach to Polyphemus the Cyclops, casting him as a “prelapsarian pastoralist” victimized by a “proto-colonizing Odysseus.” She even titles Book 9 “A pirate in a shepherd’s cave.”

To achieve this sympathetic portrayal, Wilson systematically neutralizes Homer’s vocabulary:

“Pan-Slavism” and Diction Clashes

Whittaker also criticizes Wilson’s handling of ancient social structures. Adopting a policy of “pan-slavism,” Wilson flattens a wide array of distinct Greek terms for non-elite household members—such as amphipolos (maid/servant), oinokoos (steward), geron (old man), trophos (nurse), tamie (housekeeper), and poimen (shepherd)—translating them all uniformly as “slave,” “house girl,” or “house boy.” While acknowledging the reality of ancient servitude, this uniform translation erases essential nuances of the Homeric oikos (household).

Finally, Whittaker notes jarring collisions in Wilson’s register. Very colloquial modern slang (“you must be joking,” “whooshed,” “snuggling,” “teenagers,” “glugs it down,” “standoffishness,” “tote bag”) clashes awkwardly with grand pseudo-poetic phrasing, resulting in bizarre lines like “mighty Zeus, the God of homeowners.” However, Whittaker does praise Wilson for one striking choice: translating eupolkamos (“well-braided”) as “Demeter with the cornrows in her hair.”

Peter Green and A. Verity: High Scholarship vs. Clean Prose

Turning to the other two translations, Whittaker provides balanced assessments:

Sponsors, Language Courses, and Support

Before wrapping up, the hosts remind listeners of several exciting announcements and sponsor offers:

Credits & Parting Notes

A special thanks goes out to audio engineer Mishka for her expert editing, and to guitarist Jeff Scheetz for providing the rock-infused intro and bumper music.

Thank you for tuning into Gurgle! Be sure to subscribe, share with fellow classical gourmands, and keep taking in the classics—and keeping them down!

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