In a recent conversation with Stephen Fry, we delved into his latest installment in the four-book retelling of Greek myths, marking a compelling conclusion to his series. It’s fascinating to observe that just weeks prior, Elon Musk made waves on X by endorsing a literary classic, tweeting, “Can’t recommend the Iliad enough!” alongside a screenshot of The Odyssey’s Penguin edition. It appears Homer’s enduring narratives still hold relevance in our contemporary culture.
Fry’s modern interpretation aligns seamlessly with a longstanding tradition of reimagining these ancient tales for today’s readers. His previous works—Mythos, Heroes, and Troy—create a rich context for The Odyssey, which, while accessible, cleverly infuses humor appealing to adults as well.
Notably, Fry’s approach steers away from the epic grandeur typically associated with these stories, opting instead for a modern vernacular that is both witty and relatable. For example, characters like Agamemnon are portrayed in a lively and humorous manner rather than as distant mythological figures. When he returns home, he comes across less as a heroic king and more as a light-hearted gentleman returning from a round of golf:
“Well, well, well! My darling, you grow ever more beautiful. The treasure ships are not far behind. The things you see! […] What’s that you say? A bath? Oh, my dear darling wife, there is only one thing I have been looking forward to more. And that can follow the bath, eh, eh?! Or maybe can be included in the bath, what?”
Fry doesn’t shy away from the deeper emotional currents of the story, vividly capturing the poignant moments between parents and children, particularly Odysseus’s remorse over missing Telemachus’s upbringing. His lyrical prowess shines through in striking visual imagery:
“A salt-caked, sun-burned, wind-scoured man lies face-down and naked on a beach. Sandflies skip on the scarred skin of his back.”
He expertly balances levity with gravity, moving fluidly between humor and the darker elements of the narrative. Odysseus’s encounter with the suitors shatters the comedic tone with a revelation reminiscent of a Tarantino film:
“He asked me who the hell I thought I was. I’ll tell you who I think I am. I think I am Odysseus of Ithaca, come back from the dead to revenge myself upon you. You fucking animals.”
While Fry exercises sensitivity around themes of violence, he manages to adapt the narrative deftly, ensuring it doesn’t overwhelm his readers, particularly the younger ones.
Fry’s footnotes enrich the reading experience, providing insights and playful speculations. He explores not just etymology but also connects to modern themes, humorously contemplating characters like Hera, even suggesting that the lotus eaters might merely be munching on lettuce.
Ultimately, Fry’s retelling highlights a historical progression from deities to mortals grappling with their influence. The trial of Orestes emerges as a thematically significant moment, contemplating a “new order” grounded in logic rather than impulsive actions—a thought-provoking commentary for today.
As Fry emphasizes, even amidst tales of gods, we must reflect on how these age-old lessons resonate in our modern world. It’s a point worth considering in light of public figures like Elon Musk.
The Odyssey by Stephen Fry is published by Michael Joseph, priced at £25. To support the Guardian and Observer, copies can be ordered from guardianbookshop.com, with delivery charges applicable.
