I have just finished re-reading the Odyssey (Greetings and thanks at this point to members of my lovely Book Club) and it struck me again how much of our cultural history is being lost. I had a moment like this a while ago in New York when I realised that nobody on the street around me probably understood the significance of the carvings on the New York Public Library - why were all these people in swirling clothing standing up there and what are they supposed to stand for? The Odyssey is full of these moments where you realise that you just don't quite understand what things are supposed to mean. For example we had a long conversation about hospitality in Ancient Greece: Did you have to take everyone in who turned up at your door? At what point were you allowed to turn them out? But none of us really knew.
One thing that did become clear though is that the Odyssey is a cracking story. Blood, gore, love, sex and a happy end. What more could you want?
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