"A man's anger can never age and fade away, not until he dies. The dead alone feel no pain."
​— Creon, Oedipus at Colonus

Paperback || 105 pages

In this sequel play by Sophocles, Oedipus, once a beloved king of Thebes, is now a self-blinded old man full of regret. He has suffering years alone in self-imposed exile. Now though, his endless torment has led him to a small city outside Athens, called Colonus, where he may be cleansed of his double-blood crime. 

There is a sacred grove near Colonus with an altar to the gods for rituals to be performed. If he would be permitted to complete them by King Theseus of Athens, an enemy of his former kingdom, then perhaps Oedipus would achieve divine forgiveness for accidentally killing his father and marrying his mother. 

Will Theseus and the Athenians help him, and if so why? Or will King Creon, the new ruler of Thebes and Oedipus' uncle and brother, stop him first? And where do the alliances of Oedipus daughters/sisters and son/brother lie? Will Ismene, Antigone, and Polynices help or hurt him? 

This conclusion to Oedipus' tragic transgressions is a tense tug-of-war between brothers and sisters and Athenians and Thebans, with the old man's broken soul in the balance. I loved the Greek Chorus' monologues, which gave voice to the unimaginable, heavy regrets of Oedipus: "Not to be born is best, when all is reckoned in...what griefs won't stalk [my] days? Envy and enemies, rage and battles, bloodshed and last of all despised old age..." 

This second play was a part of Sophocles' famous Three Theban Plays. The last one is titled Antigone, after Oedipus' daughter, who is an enduring hero in her own right. I loved this one in high school and am grateful to have now read the two plays about the family from which she came. All three are powerful tragedies, but most tragic to me is that their author wrote over 100 plays in his life, yet only seven still remain.

Read Sophocles. Read plays (here are eight of my favorites). They're brief, powerful, and some of the best stories I've ever read. [JG]

From The Three Theban Plays || 90 pages

"Drive the corruption from the land, don't harbor it any longer, past all cure, don't nurse it in your soil—root it out!"
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​— The Oracle of Delphi, Oedipus the King
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In Aristotle's Poetics, the ancient Greek philosopher contrasts history from art. History records what men have done. Art shows men what might be and ought to be. Two great works of art, Aristotle contends, are Homer's epic poems the Iliad and the Odyssey, but perhaps the greatest work of art was Oedipus the King. The reason Aristotle loved Sophocles' short tragic play most, was that it focused on  the moral choices made by the story's characters. Oedipus is not a long list of events and characters pulled along by fate like Homer's tales of Troy and Odysseus, but rather a plot driven characters who face real value conflicts. 

Sophocles sets the situation briefly: "Many years have passed since Oedipus solved the riddle of the Sphinx and ascended the throne of Thebes, and now a plague has struck the city." In order to understand why the gods are punishing Thebes, Oedipus sends his wife's brother Creon to Athens in order to seek council from the Oracle at Delphi. Speaking for Apollo himself, the Oracle declares that Thebes suffers because Oedipus' predecessor, King Laius, was murdered by a man who still lives in the city. In response, Oedipus declares before all of Thebes a promise to avenge their late king and warns those who shelter the killer. 

Far from a tyrant barking threats, King Oedipus is highly respected for his rational thinking by his subjects and he worships often at the temple of Apollo, the god of reason. He is passionate and resolute about finding King Laius' killer, and must be willing to follow the trail of testimonies and truths wherever they lead—even if that means into his own house and soul. [JG]

"Nothing human can penetrate the future."
​— Jocasta, Oedipus the King
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Paperback || Est. 100 pages 
Translation and Notes by A. E. Stallings
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"These days [of work] are gifts to those who dwell on earth."
​— Hesiod, Works and Days
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Hesiod's Works and Days is one of the first poems of Western civilization. Likely a predecessor of Homor, whose epics the Iliad and Odyssey mark the beginning of western literature, Hesiod's poem comes from roughly 700 B.C. but feels suprisingly modern. First, it's short, weighing it at just 828 lines (contrasted with the Iliad's 15,693 for example) and as translator A. E. Stallings writes, Works and Days is a "quirky mix of the cosmic, the earthly, and the personal."

Hesiod's core theme is that for humans, happiness is best attained through self-sufficient work, which is a gift to be enjoyed in and of itself as well as of course what one produces. "Don't be foul-weathered at the crowded feast; The pleasure's most when shared; the cost is least." 
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At the poem's outset, perhaps for the first time ever recorded, Hesiod calls upon the Muses, those local, Panhellenic goddesses who inspire artists and creatives. With their help surely, the poet then regales us with a tale of sibling rivalry, exploring themes of justice and resentment. All the while though, Hesiod keeps impressing upon the importance of laboring, taking the long view, and celebrating "a gospel of work."

The format is a sort of self-help letter to his brother, Perses, whom Hesiod wishes to speak "the plain truths to steer him by," as well as settle a dispute over their late father's land that both feel entitled to claim. But the central message is really a call to action: to attain happiness through working hard every day. As I read, I laughed aloud at some of Hesiod's older-brother moral maxims: 

· "Don't let a woman mystify your mind
with sweet talk and the sway of her behind." 

· "Don't nurture Arrogance—she's a disaster
for lowly mortals; she will overmaster." 

· "The straight and narrow path the gods have set
to Virtue is steep and long, and paved with sweat." 
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Sometimes, Hesiod has been called a "misogynist" (someone who hates women) or a "misanthrope" (someone who hates everyone), but in Works and Days, I sense a playful, tongue-in-cheek humor mixed with his moral perspective that focuses on positives. What's struck me throughout was a refreshing celebration of one's station in life—but also one's ability to alter it. Hesiod writes about the displacement of fellow Greeks who are returning to the olive groves and farmland of their ancestors because of the corruption encountered when living in the cities. Even in 700 B.C. Greece, the world was full of social maneuverability, open country to be travelled, seas to be sailed, trade, wealth; opportunities for more in life—if only his little brother Perses, and us modern readers, would see it. [JG]

"No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. It is at the bottom of life we must begin, and not at the top. Nor should we permit our grievances to overshadow our opportunities."

— Booker T. Washington, The Atlanta Exposition Address

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Hardcover | Audible

I have loved the ancient Greeks ever since discovering Edith Hamilton's illustrated Mythology at a school book fair in 7th grade. During the 2020 lockdowns I returned to many of these stories by way of actor/author/comedian Stephen Fry. His renditions of the Greek gods, heroes, and antagonists were like a long dream—one that I treasured during many an afternoon and evening painting, walking, or cooking. Mythos was first, and this summer I delved into his second, Heroes. 

With extraordinary color, drama, wit, wisdom, clarity and brevity, I sailed the wine-dark sea with Perseus along his quest to kill Medusa and acquire the golden fleece. I tagged along with Heracles during his twelve trials of strength and honor. I met brave Jason, cunning Theseus, the female hunter Atalanta, the brash Bellepheron, and tragic Oedipus too.

All the while entertained by some of the greatest and oldest stories ever told, I felt and still feel so indebted to my guide, Stephen Fry, who helped me make sense of it all—the myths and monsters, the Greece language and geography, and the relevance of it all to modernity.

Carl Jung viewed myths as the dreams of mankind's collective unconsciousness. That may be true, but staying a bit closer to the Greeks, I think that their myths show a beautiful and dangerous world of order and chaos. Their heroes shed light on exotic locations, slay dangerous divine monsters, and meet their destiny—sometimes of their own choosing and sometimes on the path they take to avoid it. In doing so, the gods' powers are ultimately diminished and man's abilities grow—abilities to reason, to feel, to understand, build, survive, thrive, and wonder. [JG]
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Stephen Fry is a comedian, author, actor, husband, and self-declared atheist and empiricist. ​He is the author of a three-part Greek myths series, whose titles include Mythos, Heroes, and Troy. He is also the host of the podcast 7 Deadly Sins and an outspoken champion of free speech. 

“Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by, that here obedient to their laws we lie.” — Simonides epitaph, quoted in Gates of Fire
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Steven Pressfield's The War of Art is one of the most impactful books I've ever read—a battlecry and battle plan against that ever-present, invisible obstacle that creative types face daily. This month I was happy to pick up one of his novels, Gates of Fire. It depicts the ancient Battle of Thermopylae, in which three hundred Spartan warriors held off hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of Persian invaders. Their ultimate act of sacrifice gave the rival Greek city states to muster their armies and unite against the east. Told through a series of flashbacks of different Spartan characters, Gates of Fire captures the historic moment with a brutal, caustic style. 
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