The interpretation and translation of stories across boundaries and through time gives us some of our most dynamic books. Whether enjoying Ezra Pound’s and Kenneth Rexroth’s personalized translations of Chinese Poetry, or the interpretation of history in Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, or the dystopic stories of Jhumpa Lahiri which cross continents and cultures on a whim, we don’t require that our reading choices be singular or original, in fact, it seems, we’d rather they weren’t.
The Lost Books of the Odyssey by Zachary Mason is a good example of what I’m talking about. Based in history and story and the history of Homer’s story, Mason’s first book of fiction consists of 44 stories from Homer’s classic that have been rediscovered on recently excavated pre-Ptolemaic papyrus. The stories don’t follow the traditional epic style of their lineage, choosing instead to flesh-out numerous characters, with most of the time spent on our friend Odysseus. Although Mason’s Odysseus is still the Hero, now, in this Post-Modern alternative, we see his fear and greed and doubt, so he becomes a hero with the more accessible lower-case ‘h’. Ranging from traditional ten-page-could-fit-in-the-New-Yorker style short fiction, to half-page vignettes, these apocrypha sometimes contradict but never take anything away from Homer’s work—if we found the missing pieces of the Parthenon, would it change the grandeur of that ancient masterpiece? Of course not. Likewise, Mason’s alternatives don’t challenge Homer’s time tested stories, they simply live next to them in a wonderfully confident and reverential way.
Throughout history our greatest literary treasures continually get used to strengthen our modern arguments. Whether we quote Shakespeare on war, Milton on obedience, Lady Murasaki on contentment, or the Bible on anything and everything, we pull from the past to manipulate the future. Sometimes we can take the weight of a classic and turn it on itself, especially if we don’t agree with what our ancient teachers are teaching. Mason tests Homer’s most abused subject: masculinity. When Homer writes his manliest of men, he makes him bold, “I am Odysseus son of Laertes, known before all men for the study of crafty designs, and my fame goes up to the heavens.” But when Mason looks at the same character with a sharper focus he says, “I played my part as best I could but in truth just wanted it to end so I could spend my remaining years with sword and harp on the wall.” Mason doesn’t eliminate Odysseus’s bravado, he simply alters our perception and envy. We leave Mason’s book still wishing we had Odysseus’s strengths, but glad to not need them.
Mason’s book shares a lot with Homer’s great story, but, most importantly, both contain the blood, guts, love, lust, and scatological humor that keep the pages turning and the heart rate up. They’re both smart enough to be read again and again, but casual enough to be enjoyed without over thinking. Things change and things happen, but Homer is good when you’re eight and he’ll be good when you’re eighty, and there are not many things you can say that about. Hopefully we can add Zachary Mason’s wonderful collection to our small list of things that remain good.
–Brian Contine
BookPeople 