starlady: Queen Susan of Narnia, called the Gentle and the Queen of Spring (gentle queen how now)
One of Catullus' most famous poems, and one of my personal favorites. This translation is my own.

Multas per gentes et multa per aequora vectus
   advenio has miseras, frater, ad inferias,
ut te postremo donarem munere mortis
   et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem,
quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum,
   heu miser indigne frater adempte mihi.
Nunc tamen interea haec, prisco quae more parentum
   tradita sunt tristi munere ad inferias,
accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu,
   atque in perpetuum, frater, ave atque vale.


Transported through many peoples and many seas,
   I have come, O my brother, for these wretched offerings,
So that I might honor the dead with final gifts
   and speak pointlessly to your silent ashes,
Because Fate stole you yourself away from me,
   Oh, my wretched brother, taken from me undeservedly.
Yet now in these circumstances, these offerings
   handed down from our ancestors, ancient custom and sad duty--
Accept them dripping with tears from your brother,
   and for eternity, O my brother: "hail and farewell."

(for A, and for her brother)
starlady: (utena myth)
Jo Graham, Black Ships (New York: Orbit Books, 2008).
Ursula K. LeGuin, Lavinia (New York: Harcourt, 2008).

Both these books tell, in completely different ways, the story of the woman who helped Aeneas found his new kingdom in Italy after his wanderings following the fall of Troy.

For Graham, that woman is Gull, the daughter of a slave taken in the first sack of Wilusa (the name of Troy in the HIttite archives) to Pylos; after she is lamed in an accident, Gull becomes an acolyte of the Pythia, and then the Pythia herself; following the will of her Lady she sails with Prince Aeneas and his seven ships after they come to Pylos to take back the slaves stolen from Wilusa in its second, final destruction. Obedient to Gull's vision, the refugees of Wilusa make their way through the Middle Sea at the end of the Bronze Age, finding the world they knew falling into fire and barbarism as they go; after escaping Egypt and Pharaoh's vicereine Basetamaon, they make their way slowly to Latium, by way of the underworld navel at Cumae, where Aeneas saves a kingdom from destruction and becomes its king, living to a ripe old age and world made anew.

LeGuin, by contrast, focuses on Lavinia, Aeneas' Latin bride who in Vergil's poem never speaks, but who in LeGuin's telling speaks the whole story, even to her poet, with whose dying shade she communes while wandering the sacred groves of Latium, her father's realm. She even gets Vergil to wish he could give her a voice, and her true hair color (brown, not gold), but it's too late, the poet is dying, he has someone else to lead through a dark wood, and Lavinia is left to hold to her fate, to marry a foreigner rather than her cousin Turnus, in the face of madness and war, given life in the poem, but not enough to die.

Arma virumque cano... )

Finally, another contemporary novel that provides an excellent interpretation of mythology is Barry Unsworth's The Songs of the Kings, which deals with the sacrifice of Iphigenia prior to the Achaians' sailing to Troy.
starlady: ((say it isn't so))
The August theme over in [community profile] readingthepast is Roman Britain, for which I read four historical novels (well, okay, Asterix in Britain is a comic book, but close enough)--completely serendipitously, in reverse historical order. I'm going to talk about them in non-widdershins chronology, though.


Asterix in Britain )


The Crow Goddess )


Dark North )


The Silver Branch )


I am one of those people who is quite capable of feeling regret for not having experienced various historical formations at their height, and all these books definitely pushed my "O to see Rome in its prime" buttons, despite the fact that it's still true, even now, as Emperor Hadrian says in The Crow Goddess, that everyone comes to Rome eventually, and that a good portion of Roman Rome still remains in the Eternal City. Obviously the Romans weren't any sort of angels on earth, but it's indisputable, to my mind, that the Empire in general and the Pax Romana in particular brought a greater prosperity and physical well-being to more people on earth than had been seen in history up to that point, and in some ways even since. (NB: I'm not sure on the stats w/r/t Qin China, but that was only for, what, 20 years in the 220s BCE?) And, you know, I do wonder in some ways whether we'd be better off even today if the Empire hadn't fallen (especially w/r/t the aforementioned differences between ancient and modern politico-cultural subjectivity). It's hard to see that we'd be worse, though I could do without the gladiatorial games and various other festivals of human cruelty that the Romans were down with. Plus, you know, slavery, though Bradshaw in particular is good at illustrating the ways in which ancient slavery was very, very different from slavery as we think of it in America (the Peculiar Institution was very peculiar historically, suffice it to say).

Q: All these books take it for granted that Latin was the imperial lingua franca. I've heard multiple times that it was actually Koine Greek. Was it both, as in Latin in the West and Greek in the East? Or was it actually just Greek?

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