The Odyssey

The other day, my friends Ted, Katie and I were talking about how silly television shows about reading are – you know, Reading Rainbow, Wishbone. The aim is obviously to shoot kids between the eyes while they’re watching after-school TV with the Good News About Reading, but why would anyone read Huck Finn when they could watch an affable dog pretend to be the titular character instead? And wouldn’t the producers of these television shows be upset if kids took their advice and went to library instead? If entertainment executives really cared, they would make all the television shows on their network uberboring so television wouldn’t even be an option for fun-lovin’ tots. Besides, I’m pretty sure I saw a screaming, placenta-encrusted newborn one time on Reading Rainbow and that shit is gross.

That said, I was a prepubescent bookworm who also happened to watch a lot of YTV, and one my sister’s and my favourite computer games was Wishbone and the Amazing Odyssey. It was necessarily primitive and usually froze up the computer, but Circe, Polyphemus, and the gang kept us coming back from more.

The plot of the game is taken up almost entirely by Odysseus’s seafaring journey and his various misadventures on different Greek islands, which is probably why I was surprised to discover, once I actually began to read the book, that the majority of the action takes place on Ithaca, and the reader only experiences his Amazing Odyssey when he’s talking to other characters about what he’s been through. This means that Homer was, while telling the story, actually telling the story of a man telling a story, within which there is occasionally further storytelling. Seriously meta!

For those not in the know (do you not watch TV?), Homer’s Odyssey is the story of a really well-rounded guy who, after fighting on the frontlines against Troy, offends Poseidon, god of the sea, and, as a result, spends no less than twenty years trying to get back home again to Ithaca – presumably about 10 minutes away as the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang flies. In sum, the Odyssey is all about two things:

1. Biting the hand that feeds you is a total bummer (sacrifice them bulls!).
2. Odysseus is so pretty and smart. I wish I were that pretty and smart so Athena would favour me.

Actually, there’s one more significant theme to be noted: guest etiquette. Apparently in ancient Greece, pretty and smart guests could show up unannounced in any royal court they wanted and have gold and slabs of meat showered down on them by their hosts, often even before their hosts knew who they were. I’ve heard that vampires can’t come into your home unless you invite them in, so that’s really asking for it. On the bad-guest front, a motley crew of men set up camp in Odysseus’ home while he’s away, wooing his wife and eating all his food – and, until Odysseus finally gets home, nobody stops them. 800 BC was a good year for freeloaders! What I’m taking away from this is that my friends are really cheap and I need to befriend some long-dead Mediterranean monarchs.

The Odyssey is a good read, if a little heavy on the filler (see: renumeration of B-list Greek heroes). If I were given the choice to pick it up from that old man’s garage sale again, I would. Everybody! -

What’s the story, Wishbone? Do you think it’s worth a look? It kinda seems familiar, like a story from a book…