Ja sladké túžby, túžby po kráse

Even the smallest of words, like “even” (“per” in Greek), can create enormously consequential interpretive challenges for the translator. In Book 24 of the “Iliad,” the goddess Thetis visits her mortal son, Achilles, who is prostrate with grief for his dead friend, Patroclus. Achilles is still dragging the corpse of Patroclus’s killer, Hector, around the city walls every day, and still refusing to eat, drink or have sex — the normal activities of mortals. The goddess asks her son how long he will “devour” his heart with grief, rather than eating normal bread, and she reminds him that it is also good to have sex, or more literally (as I render it) to “join in love” — “even with a woman.” On the most linguistically straightforward reading, the phrase suggests that his mother thinks Achilles would prefer to join with someone other than a woman — such as Patroclus, his beloved dead friend. This may be a surprise, given that earlier in “The Iliad,” the two men were described as sharing their beds with enslaved women, and they are never described by Homer as having sex with each other — although by the 5th and 4th centuries B.C., readers such as Aeschylus and Plato certainly assumed that they were lovers. Is Thetis suddenly “outing” her son? Or is she simply acknowledging the depth of his desire to be with his dead companion? Translators sometimes leave the word out entirely (Fagles: “It’s a welcome thing to make love with a woman”) or apply the emphasis to the activity, not the partner (Lattimore: “even to lie with a woman”; Caroline Alexander, “Indeed, it is good to lie with a woman”) — although this is not a natural reading of the Greek word order. I do not think it is generally the translator’s job to correct or fight against the text; hence my decision to settle on the simple “even with a woman.” Readers can decide for themselves whether Achilles is yearning to “join” Patroclus in a sexual sense or to mingle with his dear ashes in the tomb.

every so often im struck by the memory of one of my college professors getting very angry with our class (art history of pompeii 250) because when she excitedly detailed the ingenious roman invention of heated floors in bathhouses via hearths in small crawlspaces, we asked who was tending the fires. she said "oh, slaves i suppose. but that isnt the point". and we said that it actually very much was the point. she had just told us that in roman society there were dozens of people, maybe hundreds, who spent every day of their enslaved lives crawling in cramped, hot, smoky tunnels to light fires to warm pools of water (which they were not allowed to swim in). how could that not be the point?