Analysis: Books 7–8
Odysseus’s stay at Alcinous’s palace provides the reader
with some relief as it bridges the narrative of Odysseus’s uncertain
journey from Calypso’s island and the woeful exploits that he recounts
in Books 9 through 12.
Ironically, for all of his poise, Odysseus cannot remain at peace
even when he finds himself outside the direct influence of the wrath
of various gods. His melancholy at the Phaeacian games prompts an
insult from Broadsea, which in turn provokes an intense
series of challenges between Odysseus and the Phaeacian youths.
His tears at Demodocus’s song attract Alcinous’s attention and ultimately
force him to reveal his identity and relate the history of his anguish-filled
journey. Additionally, though he makes no mention of it again after
Book 8, Homer has already hinted that Odysseus
has aroused the affection of Princess Nausicaa—just a short while
after escaping the demanding attentions of the divine Calypso.
The tension between passion and constancy is particularly
strong in Books 7 and 8.
Homer sustains it not only through subtle allusions to Nausicaa’s
blossoming love for Odysseus but also through Demodocus’s rather
unsubtle and greatly detailed song about the illicit affair between
Ares and Aphrodite. Though its discussion of the planned trysts
between the two lovers and the cleverly wrought trap used by Aphrodite’s
cheated husband, Hephaestus, to catch the adulterers in the act
ends the song on a light note, the song clearly has relevance for
the morose and dejected Odysseus. It invites us to recall his helpless
transgression with Calypso and points to the future, when, like
Hephaestus, Odysseus will take vengeance upon those who have tried
to steal his bed.
The contrast between the Phaeacian youths’ naïve glory-seeking and
Odysseus’s somberness despite having achieved considerable glory
highlights how Odysseus’s painful experiences have matured him.
Inexperienced in life’s hardships, the youths act rashly, as when Broadsea
insults Odysseus, to attempt to demonstrate their manhood. The exhortation
of the youth Laodamas to Odysseus, “What greater glory attends a
man . . . / than what he wins with his racing feet and striving
hands? / . . . throw your cares to the wind!” illustrates the youths’
simplistic preoccupation with physical prowess (“racing feet,” “striving
hands”) (8.170–172).
Odysseus, on the other hand, though clearly capable of besting the
youths in athletic competition, exudes poise in the face of the
youths’ carefree brazenness, exerting himself only to defend his
honor after Broadsea’s insult. His retort that “[p]ains weigh on
my spirit now, not your sports,” displays his prioritization of
the more grave concerns of family and loss over the trivial concern
of glory for its own sake (8.178).
Likewise, Nausicaa’s immature attraction to Odysseus proves insignificant
to him and cannot trump his desperate longing to return home.
Because he figures so prominently in the episode at Scheria
and because the content of his first song so closely resembles that
of the Iliad, commentators have often tried to
equate the bard Demodocus with Homer. This interpretation, which
seems to be the origin of the belief that Homer was blind, suggests
that Homer inserts himself into his own story. Though intriguing,
we should remember that the performance of oral poetry played a
much greater role in pre- or semiliterate cultures like the Greek
world of the Iliad and the Odyssey than
it does today or did even in the later, classical period of Greek
history. While Demodocus’s songs, such as that about Ares and Aphrodite,
contribute much to our interpretation of the Odyssey, we
should hesitate before concluding that they hold the key to decoding
the identity of Homer. That Demodocus and his songs occupy a surprisingly
large portion of Book 8 may owe simply to
the culturally important role that oral poets played in Homeric
life.
