This is probably the closest of all of the Greek tragedies to a Shakespearian tragedy. This is due to the end of the play having a huge bodycount and the action of the play is driven by one person's fatal flaw (not that I actually believe in the fatal flaw argument, but that is beside the point). However it is not Antigone who has the fatal flaw in this play but rather Creon, the king of Thebes. Unfortunately we cannot really look to Oedipus at Colonus to see the beginning of Creon's downfall because this play is not the final part of a trilogy, at least in the Aeschylan sense of a trilogy, though it is noticeable that when the copyists chose seven plays of Sophocles to preserve for posterity three of the Theban plays were kept which in a sense formed a trilogy, and in this trilogy we see Creon go from being a loyal servant of Oedipus to a ruthless tyrant that believes that he is the state and that his words are not to be disobeyed.

 

First I will discuss the term Harmatia, which is Aristotelian in origin, at least from his text on drama (The Poetics). I shall also look at the action of the play and finish off by discussing the main theme, which is the struggle between loyalty to one's family and loyalty to one's state. Well, no, I will finish off by looking at Creon's character, and how his actions bring about such a sticky end.

 

The concept of Harmatia is regularly found in the Bible where it has been translated into our word sin. Now, as I think about the concept of Harmatia I am somewhat torn between suggesting that Harmatia and sin are two different ideas, or that our modern understanding of sin does not exactly weigh with how the modern church translates and preaches it. The modern church preaches sin as being rebellion against God (of which we are all guilty), and then goes on to bombard us with what constitutes sin. However, to the Greeks, or at least to Aristotle, Harmatia is a fatal character flaw. Now that concept does not alienate sin because sin, in an of itself, is a fatal character flaw that we have inherited from Adam and Eve. This fatal character flaw of ours is our desire to live independently, and we see this more and more as we meet with people and associate with them. I also see it rampant throughout the church as people try to push God into a box and tell him what sin is rather than letting him demonstrate sin to them.

 

I say this because the list of sins seems to get longer and longer and we, as humans and those of us who call ourselves Christian, seem to think that sin is made up of our actions as opposed to our desire to rule ourselves. I guess the best explanation is that our actions, especially our selfish actions, are merely a symptom of this character flaw of ours. The Bible is correct when it says that the wages of sin is death, because as we see, especially in Antigone, that Creon's Harmatia leaves him desolate and alone, and as he says from his own lips, it is as if he were dead. Now, the Greek concept of death, the absence of life, and the removal of ourselves from this world, is somewhat different to the Biblical concept of death. In fact our modern understanding of death is more in line with the Grecian view. However the biblical view is that death is more to do with the break down of our relationships, particularly our relationship with God, than it is with the absence of life. To the Bible life is defined by relationships, and when we drive our relationships apart we are little more than dead. In fact it has been suggested that higher suicide rates occur among truly lonely people than it does among people who are surrounded by friends. That, though, is only speculation. However, consider this: even when we are surrounded by friends we can still be alone, especially if these so called friends of ours only seek us out for company and, in their self centred view of the world, seek to only have us by their side to make them feel good and important than really doing anything that is remotely friendly.

 

Now, the play itself is set after the Theban war, where Etocles and Polyneices killed each other after Polyneices attacked Thebes with his army to remove his brother and set himself up as king. Creon, by default, becomes king and his first order of business is to give Etocles a state funeral while leaving the body of Polyneices exposed. To be exposed was the worst thing that you could do to a corpse in the Ancient Greek world. A proper burial meant that you would at least have a half decent afterlife, while being exposed suggests that you would be left wondering the earth as a ghost, and a tormented one at that. Antigone, the sister of Polyneices, is horrified at this and seeks to bury him, much to Creon's displeasure, so he orders her executed. However the play is not as simple as that because Creon's son is in love with Antigone, and when he finds her dead, he kills himself, and in a fit of grief over the death of her son, Creon's wife also kills herself.

 

Now one of the main themes that comes out of this play is the struggle between one's loyalty to the state and one's loyalty to one's family and the dilemma that one will face when the state passes a law of which you do not approve. The question that is raised is: do you dishonour the state by breaking the law and honouring your family, or do you dishonour your family by upholding the law even when the law is unjust. In a way, there was nothing wrong with Creon's law, since Polyneices was a traitor, and treachery is seen as one of the worst crimes to commit (even today, though the definition of treason has become very ambiguous in the globalised, interconnected world). However, he was still family, and not only that, Etocles' ascension to the throne was dubious at best. The entire war was not so much about a deposed monarch seeking reinstatement, but rather a family quarrel between two brothers.

 

We still face these dilemmas today, though not to the same extent. The question of whether the drug laws are just is one of them (and I do believe that they are, even though they can be considered to be an outworking of the Nanny State). While it is true that people should be left to make their own decisions, we demonstrate time and time again that we are actually not capable of doing so, therefore the state actually does need to step in to protect us from ourselves. Then there is the war that the state embarks on that many members of the state disapprove of, and as a loyal soldier to the state, do you obey the state by embarking on a quasi-legal adventure, or do you uphold your morals by refusing, and face punishment or even gaol.

 

Creon mentions a number of times that he, as the king, is the state, and thus his laws are to be obeyed. However, ironically enough, the Chorus objects to this. Now the Chorus does play an important role in Greek tragedy, and usually represents what the Greeks call the 'Oklos', or the crowd. Crowd is actually a rather bad translation as my understanding of the Oklos is that it is a crowd that acts as a single entity and has a single mindset. Now, this is not always the case in Greek tragedy as at times the Chorus will split and then argue with itself, in a way representing division amongst the people. It is a shame that we do not actually see Choruses in plays any more (or not playing a major role as they did in Greek drama).

 

Now Creon, having become king, has pretty much become corrupted by power. Yet I am not entirely convinced that it is corruption at such an early stage of his reign. In a way, he is the new king, and he wants to stamp his authority on the city, or, as the Greeks called it, the Polis (I won't go into details of the meaning of this word as I have already spent too much time translating Oklos). For him to be disobeyed will suggest that he does not actually have the character to be a king. A king that is not obeyed and not respected is not actually a king because he has no authority. As such Creon wants to make sure that his authority sticks so when this law is broken he is forced to act. However, he is not caught in a dilemma deciding whether it is right to punish Antigone or not - he has already made up his mind, set the path that he wants to travel, and travels down it. However, it ends very, very badly for him, and this is emphasised at the conclusion when the prophet Tiresieus arrives and passes on the message from the gods. He has acted against the proper way and is now to be punished and there is no way to escape from it.

 

I recently saw a performance of this play (which was cool because I hardly see any Greek plays being produiced) and have written my thoughts on the performance, and the play as a whole, on my blog.

Sorry for tons of updates. Trying to group them to avoid flooding anyone's wall. I'm like a month behind. :(

 

Case Closed vol. 30

This starts off with a murder mystery on a train and ends with a story about Genta being convinced someone's after him, and the start of a story involving a pottery class, but the real highlight of Vo. 30 for me was a story that brought a number of detectives together in a remote house and presented with a number of mysteries to solve - all of them deadly.

 

This was one of the stories that I felt would have been as well served by being made into a movie as by being turned into episodes of the show. Not that the episodes were bad, but the story actually had a lot going for it. One of my favorites.

 

Case Closed vol. 31

I'm probably going to just start highlighting my favorite entries in the volumes at this point, because while a lot is done to try and make all the cases seem unique, there does get to be a bit of sameyness after a while, and the less memorable cases fade into the background easier and easier over time.

 

In the case of this volume, it's definitely the return of the Gunma police officer. Mouri arrives at a hotel to solve a mystery only to find that he's already there. But the fake Mouri doesn't last long, and now they've got a new mystery on their hands.

 

Yamamura is not one of my favorite characters, but I love his fanboy side-kick-role when Mouri is around.

 

Case Closed vol. 32

You can pretty much guess that if a book has Kazuha and Heiji in it, it's often going to be my favorite in the book. I just adore the way the two of them play off one another, and in this book, we not only get them but we get to learn a little more about Heiji's dad, a policeman himself. Conan and Heiji involve themselves in the mystery of a series of mysterious deaths at a historic castle. But Heiji's dad is tryingto get them to leave well enough alone.

 

I kind of like it when I find myself shouting at a character for doing something dumb while at the same time knowing that it's exactly what the character would do, not some OOCness for the sake of the story.

 

Case Closed vol. 33

Ahh, Sato and Takagi. <3 In this volume, my highlight is the case of a mysterious robber. Takagi and Chiba are on the case, but it seems that everyone who saw the person saw someone different. Still, no real problem... until you ad din a side plot. Sato's mom, tired of waiting for grandbabies, threw a bunch of folders with info on potential husbands at Sato, and to appease her, Sato agreed to meet with one, picking it at random out of the pile.

 

But the person is someone she knows, and Sato ends up making a foolish bet - if Takagi doesn't come save her from the meeting by sundown she'll agree to marry this guy.

 

I liked this story because more Sato is always welcome, but also because it says some really interesting things about Conan, who chooses to try to help Takagi solve this relatively innocuous case before time runs out.

 

Case Closed vol. 34

Oh, Miss Jodie. Nothing in this book is a particular favorite of mine, but I find Miss Jodie to be an interesting character. She sometimes seems to be just like Conan - acting childishly and silly, but occasionally letting slip a clever, intense and calculating side. Who she is and what she wants are interesting to me even when the story itself isn't totally fascinating.

 

Her story is the best of this volume to me, partly because it also featured Heiji. :) The mystery isn't that good, but man, the experience of watching the characters all play off one another.

 

Case Closed vol. 35

It was nice to get a Genta-centric story a few books ago, and in this one Mitsuhiko gets his turn at center stage when he disappears one Sunday and the Detective Boys have to try to track him down. But when they get to the forest where he is, they find some people they didn't expect- the Gunma police, on the track of a murderer.

 

Detective Boys stories at this point in the series are starting to get a little hit or miss, but I think I still prefer the generic ones of those to the generic Ran and Mouri ones. I really like both Ran and Mouri, but the kids are just fun to read about. :)

 

bookshelves: winter-20102011, classic, mythology, play-dramatisation, historical-masturbation, greece, published-412bc

 

You can find more of my reviews plus discussions and giveaways at Christina Reads YA.

 

On occasion I'm in the mood to read something a bit darker, more mature than most of the YA fare stocked on my shelves. I don't usually review adult titles, but this one is set on a college campus and may have some crossover potential, though it is quite bloody and brutal for those who are accustomed to YA. Anyway...

Why did I want to read this?
1. I went to a liberal arts college and I'm always looking for more books with college settings (and not of the now typical NA fare).
2. Last fall I took a class on Greek tragedy and philosophy, so needless to say, this topic and subculture are fascinating to me. This book is full of references to ancient, classical culture (Plato, Greek tragedies, Greek mysteries, the old gods, Latin, dead languages, etc.), and one of the plays constantly referred to was one that I'd studied and that enchanted me.
3. Anything that says "modern classic" is bound to catch my eye. True or false?
4. This book must have been on some list from an author or reviewer who I trust. I bought it last summer so I no longer remember where I'd seen it, but I'm sure that contributed to my excitement at the time. That, and one of my closest friends has consistently mentioned to me that her brother loved this one, and from what I know, he's generally a picky reader.
5. Unreliable narration.

Why am I telling you this? Because I went into the book with those expectations and found myself rather satisfied with what I'd gotten.

Ten Likes/Dislikes:

1. (+) Richard, the protagonist - Here's the thing you should know about the characters, including the protagonist. They do shitty things. Are they likable? That's something to debate, but Richard was probably the most likable of the bunch, especially as we see things from his perspective. Richard is a poor kid who was often depressed before he fell into this group of Greek-addicted misfits. He wasn't happy with where he came from, so he'd learned to lie quite well, and it's quite obvious that he's desperate for these people to like him. It's easy to slip into his perspective because you can sense some of that earnestness in how he looks at these other characters, but also because of his determination (he transferred from his first college; the way he approaches everyone and work and school) and the fact that he's a sort of outsider in the group - the only one on a scholarship and not with swathes of money at his disposal, not with great connections nearby. He's not the one who holds the group together, but he's probably the one you'd find it easiest to talk to of the bunch.

 

2. (+) World-Building - Do you like Greek culture? How about Vermont? How about dead languages and philosophy? How about liberal arts education? There's a lot to be said about the world that's built upon this Greek foundation. There are aspects of ancient Greek life that you don't think will necessarily apply until they do, and then you're just shocked. Even those familiar with ancient Greek culture, I imagine, will find themselves shocked and pleased with the level of detail - it's clear that the author, if not well versed in the classics already, did her research well. The liberal arts setting was also fairly well done except for a couple of things: one, even though the characters also comment on how unusual a situation Julian has (their adviser, most of their classes?), I doubt that could ever exist; two, this book has some of the typical stereotypes of college such as heavy drinking and drug habits. I don't remember meeting a single college-aged character who did not partake in these activities. It's true that these characters may not meet anyone like that, but drinking in the middle of day, constantly being hung over... It was only a tad disappointing that we just didn't get as much on the details of the collegiate setting and a more rounded picture of what it actually meant to go to a liberal arts college (though I understand that that was a part of the point). Everything is extreme.

 

3. (+) Characters - You want a book full of memorable, flawed characters? Check this one out. The characters sometimes act morally reprehensible and are not always likable, but they are so real, so easy to imagine. You've got this trying-too-hard Gatsby-esque all-American guy who's too proud and a tad slower than the manic others; you've got this cold, calculating scholar who alternates between sociopathic tendencies, academic ambition, and the loving charm of a leader; and more, many others who are just as developed as the original five (Richard, Henry, Bunny, Charles, and Camilla) such as their teacher, Julian. It is the ever changing character dynamics that propels a good deal of the plot.

 

4. (+) Plot - Once this story gets going, it's out there. It's remarkably detailed and complex and focused on character interactions changing, morphing as the characters constantly react in different ways to the complications thrown into their paths. And my god, this was unpredictable. Usually I pride myself on being able to tell where a story is headed, but for some reason -- maybe all the details and how well founded they and the characters were -- I just didn't see any of that coming.

 

5. (+) Themes/Moral Ambiguity - Sometimes I need to take a break from YA because there seem to be very few that manage to portray morally ambiguous situations well or at all. Not so here, though it's less about moral ambiguity (we all know what they should not have done), and more about the dawning horror of how easily one could fall into... as the summary puts it, evil. How much would you do to belong? How much influence can someone exert over you? Is it possible to escape the self? Is there such a thing as redemption? This is the kind of book I imagine would go well in a class that also featured Greek literature or philosophy; great to compare the two, and great for stimulating discussion.

 

6. (+/-) Privilege/Class Discussion - For all the discussion of how Henry and Francis and the lot are privileged, untroubled kids who can do as they please with money, wasting it on cars and alcohol and drugs and trips to country houses, this book does not seem to have a certain... self-awareness so to speak. Yes, it's set on a liberal arts college campus, and yes it's pointed out how it's not entirely pragmatic to keep switching majors and how a literature major might not be ideal for Richard. But what about these kids who are studying classics? Who are all so effortlessly slick and cool and noticed by everyone else on campus? Who can carry out conversations in dead languages and who have their classics teacher monopolize their class schedule but who are probably not learning stuff that will apply in their immediate future? In a sense, the poorer members show as outsiders in this group, but there's also a certain, oh-woe-is-me in regards to some of their affairs that makes sense for their situation but also highlights some missing aspects to this discussion on class and privilege. There's also the fact that unless you are somewhat privileged, you will likely not understand all the references and some of the conversations these characters have. I know I didn't, and sometimes had to skim.

 

7. (+/-) Believable? Empathetic? - Here are the two things that I think would drive away most readers: whether they think the story *could* actually happen, and whether they (need to) relate to the characters. I myself was questioning how believable some of the story elements were (I believe in the characters, but would they all be congregated in this Vermont liberal arts college? Would the circumstances line so perfectly?), and sometimes, as stated above, I found it hard to relate to their situation (privileged, sometimes unlikable white kids who do stupid things), but ultimately the story was too engrossing for me for either of those two issues to matter.

 

8. (+) Writing - The writing is magnificent. There's this dreamy, unreal feel to quite a few of the scenes that fits in with one of the themes: the beauty of terror. Indeed there's a disturbing poetic aspect to some of the more bloody and brutal scenes that I'd bookmarked because the writing--the writing was so wonderful. The author also did a great job mixing in a future POV looking in on the past well with the generally formal tone of the entire story.

 

9. (+/-) Pacing - The key word is "once" the story gets going. There was a beautifully terrifying prologue, and then I found myself somewhat bored/restless for about a hundred pages. Not right after the prologue, but maybe around pages 50 - 150? It was really slow in the beginning in that way that means you'll learn about the characters. For me this didn't always work because there was an abundance of narration, long info-dumpy/summary-like paragraphs on things that had happened that I couldn't keep track of and that didn't feel as immediate as normal scenes. But after *event* happens, the pacing was perfect, with rising tension and conflict that had me flipping the pages as fast as I could.

10. (+/-) The Cover - Eh. Not all that inspiring. I wonder if that's Dionysus?

Full of memorable if not entirely likable characters and burning philosophical questions on human nature, The Secret History is not to be missed if you're a fan of ancient Greek culture or unpredictable contemporary thrillers.

We know the basic story of Prometheus: he gives fire to humans, is punished.

The story in Prometheus Bound is a little more complicated. One of the old school Titans, when their descendants (the Olympian Gods) under Zeus rebel, Prometheus tries to help the Titans; they spurn his help and he then changes sides. But Zeus turns out to be no more beneficent a ruler than Kronos was, so Prometheus once again switches, siding decisively with the common folk - humans - and giving them, along with fire, math, husbandry, and medicine. Now comes the punishment: the play opens as Hephaistos chains him down, and he whines like a bitch for like 30 pages before turning to self-aggrandizement and finally prophesying his own victory and the downfall of Zeus.

No wonder Karl Marx liked this play.

It's not terribly good. Certainly not as good as the Oresteia, and while it's unfair to say that because we're missing the second two parts of the Prometheus trilogy (stay tuned for my review of Percy Bysshe Shelley's recreation of Prometheus Unbound next week,) Prometheus Bound has nowhere near the depth of Agememnon, the first of the Oresteia trilogy and Aeschylus's best work. Apparently modern scholars (only in the past 20 years or so) are leaning towards believing that Prometheus Bound isn't by Aeschylus at all, and I see no reason to disagree.

Prometheus is one of our best metaphors. At his simplest: a genius chooses to share it with the proles against the will of the bosses and is punished. At what this play actually says: a genius goes with the revolution, hoping that life will be better under it; realizes that absolute power corrupts absolutely; and is punished. Either way, useful, although I prefer the second scheme for its depth and for its truth.

As a story it's terrific; whoever wrote this play didn't do a great job of expressing it.

The translation by Scully and Herington falls in the Fagles mode: a few too many modernizations ("Zeus is not / about to mellow," that seriously happened) but some lovely lines as well...uh, no, not really. Fagles can boast that, but Scully/ Herington have at best functional lines. I didn't care for this translation. I can't recommend it.