The Iliad
Found W.H.D. Rouse’s translation of Homer’s Iliad, after, you
guessed it, a long search. I first had it when I was eleven; it gave up the ghost a couple of years ago when most of the pages bid farewell to the spine. Too much rereading, perhaps. Couldn’t help it, though — Rouse’s prose is just so readable.
I was lucky to have read it at such an early age. My fourth-year English teacher killed whatever interest my classmates might have had in Greek mythology by mispronouncing all the names, droning on about “Cre-teh” and “Zay-oos” and the gods know what else. If not for my all-consuming dislike of public speaking, I might actually have jumped up and corrected her out of sheer exasperation.
Now all I have to do is keep my eyes open for Rouse’s version of the Odyssey, my old copy having suffered the same fate as my Iliad. Forgive me, O Melesigenes!
This entry was posted on Thursday, April 7, 2005 at 9:14 pm under Library. Both comments and pings are currently closed.