Title: Metamorphoses
Author: Ovid, translated by David Raeburn
Published: Reprint, 2004
ISBN-13: 978-0140447897
Publisher: Penguin Classics

Book One – Book Two – Book Three – Book Four – Book Five – Book Six – Book Seven – Book Eight – Book Nine – Book Ten – Book Eleven – Book Twelve – Book Thirteen – Book Fourteen – Book Fifteen

Additional resources used while reading Metamorphoses:

• Wikipedia
• SparkNotes
• Larry Brown

When I write about books, I strive more for commentary than recap or review.  In the case of Metamorphoses, I am not qualified to give a close or technical read.  This is some heavy going and I could easily take several classes about Roman literature, Ovid and Metamorphoses itself, just to learn more about the time and context.  Not to mention the fun of taking art history and literature classes devoted to the impact Ovid had on Western art and literature.

Metamorphoses has been studied since first published in 8CE, just a few years before Ovid died.  The body of work devoted to this epic poem is prodigious.

It seems to me that reading it at least once is worthy of the effort, if only to be exposed to this grand writing, and learn the origin stories of things we already know in our contemporary lives.  Black ball, Midas touch, hyacinth and Pygmalion come to mind.

I encourage anyone who has wondered if they should read it, to give it a go.  My views on what people should or shouldn’t read are pretty clear; people should read what they want.

At the start of Metamorphoses, Ovid states his ambition; to tell the story of the founding of Rome from chaos to the present.  That is a lot of ground to cover.  When I first looked at the page count, 636, I thought it would just take a couple of weeks.  Hah!  Two months later.

Raeburn’s translation helped, as did the trick I finally figured out of reading to the punctuation instead of the meter.  I am horrible with meters and they just make the poem choppy and ugly to me.  But ignoring the meter and reading to the punctuation made things so much easier.

There’s so much going on in this work.  It is grand and sweeping, and sometimes choppy and even more difficult.  I would like to have a better grounding in the literature of the time so that I could understand the allusions and homages more easily.  Romans loved their blood and guts and adventure tales.

In fact, Metamorphoses is rife with violence, gruesome in its detail and astonishing in the litany of names of characters involved in all the “stabbity-stab-stab.”  Rape is another prevalent topic, as is punishment by the gods and goddesses.

This is not a nice, tidy look at the story of Rome, fiction or not.  There were numerous times when I had to stop and remind myself that Metamorphoses was written for an audience who had certain expectations for a great story, and for whom violence was nothing to be squeamish about.

The attitudes towards women are difficult, but again, this was written in first century CE, when the very idea of women speaking up for themselves and showing agency was frowned upon at best, punishable at worst.  Ancient Rome was a very stratified society, even wealthy women were held to be barely better than the slave class.  So it is no surprise this found its way into the literature.

There are very few happy endings in Metamorphoses.  Love goes unrequited, and is frequently punished with grim results.  Happy love stories are reserved for those who are pious in their thoughts and actions.  Even those end sadly, as the characters nearly always die.

The parts I most enjoyed were the personifications of emotions and dreams.  Envy, Rumour and Sleep are all represented here, imagined with entertaining lines.

I enjoyed reading the details of how Ulysses’s men turned into pigs on Circe’s island, from the point of view of one of the men.  And, although Polyphemus was a monster in all meanings of the word, it was fun to read how he tried to make himself into something Galatea could love.  Jove as a golden shower getting Danae pregnant is another favorite bit.

There’s so much to enjoy, and revile, in Metamorphoses, it’s impossible to recount them in any way that makes sense.  I could comb back through each book’s commentary and look for things to write about here.  But I won’t.

What I will say is that reading Metamorphoses was a journey worth taking. One which I am just as happy to have completed, leaving me to move on to less complicated books in my stacks.  One lasting effect I am sure of, nothing I see or read will ever be the same since reading it.

If you’re up for an adventure, and don’t mind working for your read, give Metamorphoses a try.  I can’t guarantee what you’ll get from it, and you shouldn’t feel bad if you don’t get into it.  There are far too many books to be read; don’t read the ones you can’t get into.  As for me, I’m glad to have had the experience.

Title: Metamorphoses
Author: Ovid, translated by David Raeburn
Published: Reprint, 2004
ISBN-13: 978-0140447897
Publisher: Penguin Classics

Book One – Book Two – Book Three – Book Four – Book Five – Book Six – Book Seven – Book Eight – Book Nine – Book Ten – Book Eleven – Book Twelve – Book Thirteen – Book Fourteen

Book Fifteen has 879 has lines on 42 pages.

So here we are at the end of this epic poem, considered to be one of the most influential works in Western arts and literature.   It’s easy to understand why, Ovid’s stories focus not only on change, he focuses on the humanness of his characters, even the gods.  As much as I rail at men who won’t stay faithful to their spouses, and angry women who take it out on the victim, isn’t that what humans do?  It isn’t easy to think about the flaws of us, but Ovid reflects us back to ourselves ultimately.

As an introduction to Croton and its famous citizen, Pythagoras, Ovid tells the story of the city’s founding.  Myscelus is visited in his dreams by Hercules twice.  Each time, Hercules exhorts Myscelus to leave his country and sail to the place where he would found Croton.

However, the laws in Myscelus’ country forbade anyone to leave.  As he tried to sneak out, he is caught and put on trial.  The vote is held by collecting white or black pebbles in an urn.  If all the balls are black, he will be executed.  Since Myscelus is breaking the law of his country, it’s a foregone conclusion that all the pebbles will be black.

He prays to Hercules basically saying, “It’s your fault I’m in this predicament, so help me out here.”  When the urn is emptied, all the pebbles have turned white and Myscelus is released to leave the country.

Heard of the phrase “black balled?”  The tradition of voting related in the story Myscelus is where that phrase comes from.

(Note:  I was reminded of the Greek practice of ostracism which used pieces of pottery called ostracon to vote for the ostracism of a citizen from Athens.  Although similar to being black balled, voters would write the name of the citizen they were voting to ostracize.  The pot sherds were usually black, but it was the name that was counted, not the color of the pot sherd.  For the time being, I stand by my presumption that “black balled” came from the story of Myscelus and Hercules.  31 August, 2015)

And so Croton is founded in Italy and Pythagoras, great philosopher and mathematician, becomes one of its citizens.  Ovid uses Pythagoras as a mouthpiece to discuss how everything transforms, how humanity is connected to each other and everything else on the planet.

One of the more interesting themes here is that of reincarnation.  Not in terms of whether it happens, it’s plainly stated that it does.  But Pythagoras’ reasoning to be vegetarian and stop killing and eating animals is that we could very well be displacing the soul of a relative.  In sum:

All of these nets and traps and snares and crafty devices –
have done with them!  Cease to deceive the birds with your treacherous limed twigs,
duping the deer by stringing feathers on ropes to unnerve them,
luring the fish with bait on the hidden hooks of your lines.
If an animal harms you, destroy it; but do no more than destroy it.
Cleave to a diet that sheds no blood and is kind to all creatures.
(lines 473 ~ 468)

Next, in the “oh you think you have problems” department, Hippolytus determines to cheer up grieving widow Egeria by relating his own woes.

I have this image of a Roman warrior coming upon a crying woman in a grove of trees.  She’s been crying so loud and so long that all the nymphs are telling her she needs to quiet down because Diana is being disturbed by all the ruckus.  In all his well-meant platitudes, he awkwardly pats her on the shoulder and says, essentially, “Lady, you think you have it bad.  Let me tell you about this one time …”

And off Hippolytus goes telling the story of how when he wouldn’t sleep with his stepmom, Phaedra, she accused him of rape to his father, Theseus.  Of course, Theseus believes his wife over his son and curses him and exiles Hippolytus.

As Hippolytus is driving his chariot down the coast, a huge wave comes out of the ocean, turns into a gigantic bull and spooks the horses.  Mayhem ensues, Hippolytus loses control of his horses and chariot which crashes and kills him.

My weary spirit at last gave out, and there wasn’t a part
of my body which could have been known as mine.  It was all one wound.
Now can you, Egeria, dare you compare your misfortune with mine?
(lines 528 – 530)

Then he goes on to say, “’cause let me tell ya, that was just the beginning.”  Just like the one annoying co-worker we’ve all had who just wants to tell his story and get your sympathy, under the guise of “cheering you up.”

After he dies, Hippolytus goes to the underworld to bathe in healing waters which bring him back to life all in one piece again.  And then, and then, he can’t even be Hippolytus anymore, he has to become Virbius because Pluto was angry about Hippolytus coming back to life.

Of course, this story does nothing to make Egeria feel better about losing her husband.  She lays down at the foot of a mountain and continues crying until Diana was moved enough to turn Egeria into a cooling spring.

The Epilogue to this grand work proves that Ovid was both arrogant and prescient.  He ends his masterpiece by stating that nothing will ever destroy his work and that his name shall never be forgotten.

Wherever the might of Rome extends in the lands she has conquered,
the people shall read and recite my words.  Throughout all ages,
if poets have vision to prophesy truth, I shall live in my fame.
(lines 877 – 879)

Title: Metamorphoses
Author: Ovid, translated by David Raeburn
Published: Reprint, 2004
ISBN-13: 978-0140447897
Publisher: Penguin Classics

Book One – Book Two – Book Three – Book Four – Book Five – Book Six – Book Seven – Book Eight – Book Nine – Book Ten – Book Eleven – Book Twelve – Book Thirteen – Book Fifteen

Book Fourteen has 831  has lines on 43 pages.

As I come close to finishing this doorstop of a book, it’s not a bad time to remind myself that Ovid’s stated intent with his epic poem was to tell the story of Roman history from the beginning of time until Rome’s founding by Romulus.

That is a lot to write.  As I said in my review of Book One, Ovid had an ambitious goal.  I’m also discovering that while I may “know” some of the stories in Metamorphoses, I don’t know Ovid’s versions.  I know Odysseus (Ulysses) from Homer.  The same with the Trojan War.  Ovid’s audience would have known Homer’s work well, so while Ovid pays homage to the authors who came before him, he does not tell the same stories.  Which can be confusing..  To add to the confusion, Homer was Greek;  Ovid Roman.

This book may be the most disjointed of all.  The stories are all over the place, jumping from metamorphosis to metamorphosis without much plot cohesion.

It begins with a return to the story of Glaucus and Scylla.  Book Thirteen ended with Scylla rebuffing Glaucus who, seemingly, went to Circe in a huff.  Book Fourteen reveals that Glaucus was not seeking out Circe to heal his broken heart, but to plead for a spell or potion to be whipped up that would make Scylla love him.  And, as we have become used to, jealousy rears its ugly head.  Circe refuses Glaucus’ request, wanting him for herself.  Instead, she turns Scylla’s lower half into dogs.  Glaucus continues to spurn Circe, and no one ends up happy.

Ovid briefly mentions Scylla being turned into a headland of rock, just across the way from Charybdis’ whirlpool, making the strait of Messina difficult to navigate for sailors.  Between Scylla and Charybdis is the origin of “between a rock and a hard place.”  Scylla being the rock and Charybdis the hard place.

A poorly executed encounter between soldiers who once fought on opposite sides of The Trojan War, leads to the story of the aftermath of Ulysses’ men in Polyphemus‘ cave.  Great care is taken with the details of a blind, angry cyclops who pulls Mt. Etna apart and grabs every human he can feel and eats them whole.  This is some gory stuff which Ovid’s audience would have loved.

Now the other soldier in this encounter relates what it was like to be traveling with Ulysses and get stranded on Circe’s island.  Entering her palace, twenty-two men are greeted by friendly animals of all kinds.  The animals are wagging their tails and licking the hands of the new arrivals.  Circe greets them kindly, while the men notice that her women are not carding wool or spinning thread, but rather sorting grasses, flowers and herbs.

Circe directs the women to make a potion for the visitors.  As they drink, she taps each one on their head and they become pigs.  Here again, Ovid dwells on the details of this transformation.

… I started to prickle all over
with bristles.  My voice had deserted me, all the words I could utter
were snorting grunts.  I was falling down to the earth, head first.
I could feel my nose and my mouth going hard in a long round snout;
my neck was swelling in folds of muscle; the hands which had lifted
the cup just now to my lips were marking the soil with hoof prints.
(lines 279 – 284)

One of the men, Eurylochus,  does not drink the potion and is able to alert Ulysses, outside of the palace, who comes in and convinces Circe to return them all to human form.

While lingering at Circe’s, one of her maidens tells the story of the statue of Picus to Macareus.  As is common in these tales, Picus is gorgeous and young.  He is also married to Canens, a beautiful young woman who could move anyone and anything with her singing.

One day, while out picking herbs, Circe gets an eyeful of Picus and falls in love.  She is determined to have him, but Picus keeps denying her because he’s married to Canens.  Circe becomes so incensed she casts a spell and turns him into a woodpecker.

Picus is searched for but, of course, no one can find him.  Canens wanders for six days and six nights and finds herself on the shore of the Tiber river.  As Canens sings her sorrow, she wastes away to nothing.

Once again, I’m reminded of the Roman audience who would have loved this sort of gossipy story.  That it also explains the name of a physical space called Canens is a bonus.

Pomona is the goddess of orchards, who cares only for trees which bear fruit and nuts.  She’s decided to spend her life away from men, which is difficult because the males don’t take no for an answer.

One, Vertumnus, changes the seasons, and can change his appearance at will.  He disguises himself as an old woman so he can go into the orchard and talk to Pomona.  In this guise, he gives her many reasons why she should marry him.

He doesn’t wander all over the world in search of new women;
he sticks to his own patch.  Nor does he fall in love with the latest
girl he has seen, like most of your suitors.  You’ll be his passion,
his first and his last; he’ll devote his life entirely to you.
(lines 679 – 682)

Then old-lady-in-disguise Vertumnus tells her the story of Iphis and Anaxarete, which does not end well.

Iphis is a shepherd who falls in love with the lady Anaxarete.  He fights his feelings because of their differences in class.  When he can no longer fight them, he goes to her home and pleads with her.  He asks her servants to help him woo her, but Anaxrete has a cold heart and spurns him repeatedly.  She even makes fun of him.

In an act of desperation, he goes to her front door and beseeches her one last time.  When Iphis is rebuffed yet again, from behind a closed door, he commits suicide where the servants find him.

Still Anaxarete is unmoved which makes “a vengeful” god angry and she is turned into a statue.

At the end of this story, Vertumnus changes form into his own beautiful self, ready to rape Pomona, if “necessary.”  But his story has changed her mind about men and she gives herself willingly to him.  At least it’s another rape avoided.

Which brings us, at last, to the founding of Rome by Romulus.  Ovid does not mention the twin brother Remus or the myth of them being raised by a she-wolf here.  As with most well-known stories written by other authors, Ovid either glosses over them or focuses on different details.  As I’ve stated many times, his Roman audience would have been familiar with these stories, so Ovid didn’t need to retell them.

Rome has been founded during the festival of Pales, the god of shepherds.  But war broke out with the neighboring Sabines, because the Roman men abducted and raped Sabine women for wives.  After a sufficient amount of blood being spilled, peace is negotiated and Romulus rules over both Romans and Sabines.

The last story in Book Fourteen is brief and relates the story of how Romulus became a god.  Mars fulfills his promise to Romulus who takes the name Quirinus once deified.

His wife Hersilie is left behind and grieves the loss of her husband.  But Juno has plans for her and sends Iris to fetch her to Romulus’ Hill, where she is transformed into a goddess and joins her husband as Hora.

Title: Metamorphoses
Author: Ovid, translated by David Raeburn
Published: Reprint, 2004
ISBN-13: 978-0140447897
Publisher: Penguin Classics

Book One – Book Two – Book Three – Book Four – Book Five – Book Six – Book Seven – Book Eight – Book Nine – Book Ten – Book Eleven – Book Twelve – Book Fourteen – Book Fifteen

Book Thirteen has 967 has lines on 48 pages and is the longest book in Metamorphoses.

In “The Judgment of Arms,” Ajax and Ulysses argue over who should be awarded Achilles‘ armor.  Ajax’s basic argument is that he is descended from nobility and braver in battle than Ulysses, because Ulysses skulked around at night hiding from actual battle.

Ulysses, on the other hand, addresses his comments to the chiefs who are to make the decision, not to the onlookers.  He speaks of his tactical abilities which, among other things, involved skulking around at night spying and negotiating.

The notes in my copy say that the speeches both cover a spectrum of rhetorical style that Romans would have recognized.  Since it is not my intent to give a close or more technical reading, I will leave it to the experts.

After Ulysses is awarded the armor, Ajax commits suicide.  Which in Ovid’s hands reads like a pathetic attempt to hurry on to the next story.  The retelling of the Trojan War has allusions to Homer but doesn’t address many of the details which would have been familiar to Ovid’s audience.  In other writings, Ajax was driven to madness and then committed suicide.  Here, Ovid just makes Ajax seem like a petulant little boy who didn’t get his way.

In many ways, Book Thirteen is a relief to read.  There’s not so much violence or rape or such goings on.  That is not to say that it doesn’t have a share of sadness.

The story of Hecuba is one of those.  At the end of the Trojan War, Hecuba and two of her children are just a few of the remaining survivors.  One son, Polydorus, was sent to live with King Polymestor In Thrace.  Priam sent gold with his son so if Troy fell, Polydorus would be able to support himself.  As in most stories involving gold, Polymestor was greedy and killed Polydorus to keep the gold.

Hecuba is aboard a ship in Agamemnon‘s fleet which has anchored off the coast of Thrace waiting for the right winds so they can continue on to Greece.  The slave women and Hecuba convince Agamemnon to go ashore and avenge Polydorus’ death.

But as they touch shore, Achilles’ ghost arises and demands the death of Hecuba’s remaining child, Polyxena.  Polyxena’s final speech is so brave and moving, telling her killers that she goes willingly but they must not sully her maidenly body by touching it with their male hands.  Achilles will be more appeased with the blood of a willing victim.  This sweet daughter goes to her death knowing nothing will save her, or her family’s name, and goes bravely.

Poor Hecuba.  She has now lost her husband and all her children and is now a slave to the Greeks.  Yet she does not lose her dignity.  She connives a meeting with Polymestor by telling him she has more gold to give him in return for the release of her son.

Greed overrules smart in so many of these stories.  Polymestor thinks he can get the best of Hecuba and keep all the gold for himself.  But he soon learns that a mother avenging her children is someone to be reckoned with.

And then she grabbed hold of him tight, with a shout to her posse of female
captives, and dug her fingers into his treacherous eyes …
(lines 559 – 560)

I’m going to end the commentary on Hecuba with this, “posse of female captives.”  Posse?

The last two stories in Book Thirteen are those of unrequited love.

First, the story of Galatea, a sea-nymph, who spends her time in the arms of Acis, a human, and avoiding the advances of Polyphemus, a cyclops.  Polyphemus is beside himself that nothing he does can gain the attention and love of Galatea.

He combed his hair, trimmed his beard, and cut back on his slaughter of ships as they anchored in port.  One day a seer puts into port and tells Polyphemus he will lose his eye to Ulysses.

The Cyclops replied with a laugh, “Your are wrong, most stupid of prophets,
My eye has already been robbed by another!”
(lines 773 – 774)

Polyphemus catches Galatea and Acis in each other’s arms and sings a song about what she’s missing out on by not choosing him.  He is so angry that his voice causes an earthquake on Mount Etna.  Grabbing a piece of the mountain, he flings it at Acis and kills him.  Grieving Galatea uses her power to turn Acis into a river.

Here is the lesson, obviously old as time, not to try to make yourself over just to win the love of someone who doesn’t love you.  In Polyphemus’ case, it’s literally destructive.

The last story is of Glaucus and Scylla.   Scylla, preferring to be alone, has found a cove in which to shelter.  She encounters Glaucus, but is wary of him.  He swims up, begging her to hear his story and to fall in love with him, as he has done with her.  (The Romans were apparently big on love at first sight.)

He tells her that he used to be a fisherman.  Once, while letting his nets dry, he discovered the grass he was sitting on sent the fish he’d just caught back into the ocean.  Taking a taste for himself, he found himself turned into a sea-god.

It was then that I first set eyes on this beard encrusted with green,
on the hair which sweeps in my wake as I swim far over the sea,
my colossal shoulders, my blue-coloured arms and my curving legs
which vanish away to a fish with fins.
(lines 958 – 961)

“My colossal shoulders?  My curving legs?”  Glaucus is certainly full of himself.

Scylla rejects him and leaves the scene.  Enraged, Glaucus goes to see Circe.

The way this is written, my first impression is that Glaucus is just another fickle male, who stomps off to some other woman for comfort when he is rejected.

Title: Metamorphoses
Author: Ovid, translated by David Raeburn
Published: Reprint, 2004
ISBN-13: 978-0140447897
Publisher: Penguin Classics

Book One – Book Two – Book Three – Book Four – Book Five – Book Six – Book Seven – Book Eight – Book Nine – Book Ten – Book Eleven – Book Thirteen – Book Fourteen – Book Fifteen

Book Twelve 628 has lines on 30 pages.

Book Twelve is mostly about the Trojan War.  But instead of describing the war itself, as Ovid’s predecessors Virgil and Homer did, Ovid describes it as yet another brawl breaking out at a wedding reception (see Book Five).

The book starts with a short, weird piece about the thousand ships leaving Greece for Troy after Paris abducted Helen which started the Trojan War.

Next is a seemingly unconnected story about Rumour.  I’m particularly fond of the way Ovid describes Rumour’s home.

… who chose to live on a mountain,
with numberless entrances into her house and a thousand additional
holes, though none of her thresholds are barred with a gate or a door.
… the whole place hums and echoes, repeating whatever
it hears.  …
(lines  43 – 45, 47 – 48)

There are 23 lines which exquisitely describe this home and its denizens.  This is why I continue with Metamorphoses, the language can be so beautiful and interesting.

Then there’s the story of Cycnus, yet another man who metamorphosizes into a swan.  This Cycnus brags to Achilles about needing no armor.  Comically, Achilles keeps trying to kill Cycnus by throwing his spear multiple times and always missing.  Even more comically, while Cycnus is boasting he can’t be killed, Achilles strangles Cycnus with the strap of his own helmet.

The after battle story telling around the fire leads into Nestor’s story of the transgender Caenis/Caeneus.

His exploits won him renown, the more surprisingly so as he started life as a woman.
(line 174 – 175)

The story of Caenis makes sense, since she was raped by Neptune who offers her anything she wants.  She asks to be made something other than a woman so that she will never have to suffer rape again.  (lines 199  – 203)

The core of Book Twelve is “The Battle of the Lapiths and Centaurs,” Ovid’s comical version of the Trojan War.  At the wedding of Pirithous and Hippodamia, the drunken centaur, Eurytus, decides he’s going to make off with the bride.  Which never goes over well.  There erupts an epic brawl in which weapons are improvised from the furniture and table settings.

One line in particular caught my fancy.  There’s a centaur passed out drunk in the midst of this chaos with a cup of wine spilling from his hand.  A lapith sees this and takes action.

Now you must mix your wine with Stygian water!
(line 322)

Book Twelve ends with the death of Achilles, as cowardly Paris’ arrow is guided by Apollo through Achilles’ heel.

If Priam, after the death of Hector, had cause for rejoicing,
this surely was it.  So Achilles who’d vanquished the mightiest heroes
was vanquished himself by a coward who’d stolen the wife of his Greek host.
(lines 607 – 609)

The death of Achilles ends with preparations for the dispensing of Achilles’ belongings.

In my research, I keep being reminded that the Romans were a blood-thirsty lot and all these tales of battles and wars would have been greatly appreciated.  Even as I caution myself of this, I can’t help wincing over the detailed gory events.  Eyeballs dangling onto faces just isn’t a very nice thing to think about, no matter how much the antagonist might have deserved something horrible.