Books like Home — picked by fans

I thought it was great to have Circe herself narrate her love affair with Odysseus.

The first half of the novel interestingly shares her tribulations growing up as a child in a family of gods. I found that this establishes a theme of immortality vs. mortality that the book explores in profound ways. Especially fascinating was Circe’s personal story of her love affair with Odysseus.

I was surprised and delighted that Miller included the resulting child, Telegonus, who is not in Homer but is in ancient myth. Even more surprising to me was Circe falling in love with Telemachus, Odysseus’ son by Penelope (also not in Homer!). This relationship allows the novel to end on a positive note as Circe learns to live like a mortal in her new life with Telemachus.

Though I love to read Homer’s Odyssey in the original Greek, I also appreciate translations that allow particular themes to emerge in new ways.

All translations of the ancient epic are necessarily inventive recreations of the ancient Greek Homeric story, and I like the way this translation employs a quick-paced poetic meter and updates the tale to suit modern sensibilities on uncomfortable aspects of the Odyssey (e.g., misogyny, slavery).

The introduction also provides an authoritative explanation of the Homeric Odyssey.

It is always delightful to read this re-telling of the Odyssey by the esteemed Canadian author Margaret Atwood.

I found the voice of Penelope as the narrator of her own story most effective. The set-up of Penelope as a shade in the underworld who dishes the dirt on what really happened when Odysseus returned home seemed very clever to me. Penelope is witty and humorous in her sceptical, if fond, description of her hero’s antics, but I also appreciated that the queen continues to wrestle with guilt over the murder of several of her handmaids.

I was astonished that Mason invented forty-four short versions of Odysseus’ story, under the clever pretense that these were found on an ancient manuscript.

Since I like sci-fi and supernatural books, I thoroughly enjoyed the creative and original nature of these stories. Besides being fun, they also made me re-think the original Homeric tale that this work sort of puts into a blender.

This is an obvious pick, I know. Still, it’s on record as the greatest adventure, the highest bar of duty and courage—and ultimately love.

Homer’s epic detailing Odysseus’ journey home from the Trojan War is fraught with peril and obstacles that would have made a lesser human give up and call it a day. 

Destiny called him away, but it was love that brought him home from war. At each crossroad Odysseus was offered an alternative, he chose to return to his wife, his son, and his land. He could have been made immortal.

He was offered riches and greater glory, and all the dude wanted was to kiss his wife and sleep in his own bed at the end of the day. Is that so much to ask?

The reason The Odyssey is on my list is to reflect the scale of destiny, and the answering and equal call… show more.

Once, on a weeks-long gig far from home, I stayed in a bare attic room with no TV, no internet, not even a radio. I didn’t mind. I had this translation of the Odyssey to settle down with every evening after work. I would think about it all day long: the vivid language, the fantastical events, the struggle and suffering of the protagonist. Reading it was like going to a technicolor movie every night, except that the movie was inside my head.

Talk about an essential human story—the Odyssey is four thousand years old, but its characters have the same emotions, fears, vices, and virtues we have today. Their struggles make my heart race and my eyes tear up. My imagination goes into overdrive, and I revel in the wonder.

Few today know of moral injury, and I found this book to be a great introduction to the condition. The heart of it concerns betrayal—by those above and even ourselves.

Often seen as the father of “moral injury,” Jonathan Shay reveals that the condition itself actually stretches deep into the bowels of history, at least as far as Shakespeare, if not the Homeric epics written 2,400 years earlier: a reminder that everything old is new again. 

Rather than acting as ventriloquist, Shay quotes his patients, allowing the veterans to speak for themselves; to express their traumas and the consequences thereof. And he emphasizes, as few do, the responsibility of society to aid in healing those traumas.

An accessible, practical read for understanding moral injury, trauma, and our communal responsibilities.

For fantasy, adventure, and humanity, I find no book like Homer’s Odyssey. Some prefer the Iliad, but for me, the Odyssey has greater depth, resonance, and experience of life. Most of us know about Odysseus’ wonderful adventures, but the whole second half of the epic is about his attempts to get home and, once home, to reintegrate himself into his family and society, from which he has been absent for twenty years.

I love the way the epic relates stories but also makes you think about what stories mean, why people tell them, and how to tell false ones from true. There are many fine translations of the Odyssey, including Emily Wilson’s recent one; my favorite, however, though a bit dated, remains that of Lattimore.

Even after 20 years of separation, brought on by the Trojan War and the gods, Odysseus and Penelope hold on to their love and reunite in Ithaca. They must overcome tremendous obstacles: divine anger, violent suitors, jealous lovers, ghosts, and monsters.

Of course, the poem has double standards regarding relations between men and women. And yet, the central love story hasn’t lost its appeal since antiquity. Fitzgerald’s English translation of the Odyssey is one of the best and a wonderful creation in its own right: it’s a magnificent rendition of Odysseus and his world.

This book is really the definitive replacement to Robert Graves’ awesome The Greek Myths, which held sway for 50 years or so as the go-to book for detailed explanation alongside obscure erudition.

The good thing is, March’s book, whilst amazingly erudite and ‘complete’ (if one can ever be), is also highly readable and organized in a much superior and reader-friendly way than the Graves’ volumes. I like reference books, and this is my default classical reference book now.