You love you, I love me--so what are we to do?

Guess who's blogging in lieu of finishing her rough draft of an evil project based on a terrible novel assigned by a teacher who most likely enjoys making children cry? If you guessed Angela Shankespeare D, you are correct. If you guessed wrong... well, whose blog do you think you're looking at? Of course I'm going to be talking about myself. God.



So, I read Ovid's Metamorphoses. Contrary to how it may sound, it is not about Ovid's satanic shapeshifting abilities; it is, however, about all the crazy Greek/Roman legends where people shape shift. Which happens quite a lot. Mostly people turn into trees, but they're also turned to dolphins... cows... snakes... you know. The usual. My Wednesday night. (What?)



Anyway, it was interesting. It linked together all these myths, so you'd see things like, ohh, this girl who was turned in a tree had an incestuous affair with her father (true story), who was grandson of this guy who turned into X who happened to be the cousin of Y who is descended straight from Z himself, who can also turn into a snake, an ox or an eagle whenever he feels like it. And even when it doesn't link stories together by lineage, per se, it still ropes them together to create a more complete whole than ever they were before (at least, in any experience of mine reading them). I guess it helps to be familiar with the individual myths, at least some of them, before tackling this. And, of course, it doesn't hurt to be into Greek/Roman mythology. So, Emma, maybe you wouldn't be so hot on this.



At the start of it, Ovid chronicles the beginning of time, from the land growing out of chaos and men being created by Prometheus and all. Of course, the Titans, or demigods, arose out of the union of the earth and sky. Cronus, youngest titan, was urged by his mother to kill his father (she was mad because her husband was horrified by her other sons, who were the Cyclops, and locked them away) and he did. It was said his son would overthrow him, however, so Cronus ate his wife's children to prevent this. Zeus, however, was hidden away till he grew up and attacked his father--and out sprung Zeus's five siblings. Anyway, what's funny is Ovid describes the land as a paradise before Zeus succeeds his father--"Wheat grew wild in the fields; streams flowed with milk and nectar, and honey dripped like sap from hives in the trees" (4). Zeus takes over and basically everything goes to hell. It's kind of strange, actually--well, one that everything would go to hell like that, and two, the awful things that were described. An interesting line says that wives "cooked up their deadly poisons" (4) to kill their husbands, obviously. Something which was still pretty common in Roman times. (The popular method was to boil a toad. The toad's poison would float to the caldron's top, and the woman would skim this off and mix it with her husband's food/wine.) So that's odd, because obviously it wasn't stopped at all... even though Zeus intervened (we'll be there in a second)... So maybe Ovid just wasn't aware of it happened, or denied its existence? Well, whatever. The point is...
Zeus's intervention was, surprise surprise, a great flood! Hmm, that sounds familiar... No? (A 'great flood' shows up in many ancient mythical and religious texts. The one the Biblical story is thought to be based off a flood of the Tigris and Euphrates that went a little overboard.) Which apparently knocked out all of the sinners and terrible people, but obviously, it didn't work well at all... which was clear about thirty seconds after the waters receded. Okay, no surprise, but you'd expect it to be a human sinning, not Zeus himself. Good job raping everyone, Zeus. Setting a great example.

Okay, one myth that I thought was weird--well, it's Greek--was the story of Semele. First, because she actually allowed Zeus to have his way with her, second, how the child of this union was born. Okay, let me back up. Semele's all happy, having her affair with Zeus. Hera finds out and visits Semele, putting doubt into her head--you know, anyone can say he's a god, has he appeared to you as a god and all that jazz. Semele gets agitated, and of course she asks Zeus if he will. Zeus had previously sworn by the river Styx he would fulfill her wish (it's kind of like triple-dog-daring in that you cannot back out. The difference is, a god physically can't back out of a Styx-swearing. You can back out of triple-dog-daring, but you'll get branded as a wiener forever.) So he does, and burns her to a crisp, but--before she fizzles out completely--he plucks their unborn child from her womb and "inserted it into his thigh, where he could keep it safe as it grew to term" (52). What? I don't care who you are. Thighs cannot incubate children properly. That's why babies don't come out of them!

The story of Narcissus seems a little ridiculous, too. If you really think about it. (This seems to be a problem with a lot of myths, come to think of it.) He never saw himself before? Not even in a rain puddle? Come on. (Narcissus was a man who was so beautiful that one day whilst hunting he happened to glance at himself in a pond and fell completely in love with himself. He stared at himself until he wasted away to nothing, and left in his place was a beautiful flower... go on, guess the name of it. There's a joke about this in Disney's Hercules, too. Something like, "There hasn't been this much love in a place since Narcissus discovered himself." I love that movie.

"What has become of us, a race of warriors, sailors, and statesmen? We braved the weapons of enemies; we dared the perils of the sea and came here from Tyre with honored household gods. Are we now to abandon that and give into superstition and excess, enthusiasm? Are we eager to exchange for the soldier's spear the magic thyrsus of this soi-disant god? Or helmets for flower power and these absurd garlands? 'Love, not war', is an empty and ridiculous slogan; that easy choice is never on the menu... What will we do? Should we go out to meet our enemies holding bouquets?" Okay, so what's being said is basically, you peace mongers are cute, but also you're naive. Which I think is very true. Sing your anti-war slogans till you go blue in the face, but it's not going to stop, realistically, unless we get nuclear winter and everything (and I do mean EVERYTHING, except for maybe prions) dies. And I'm not saying I'm some sort of hardened evil warmonger general guy a la every military-related movie ever, but I'm just saying: peace is an ideal. It's a nice thought, I would certainly like it--some of it--(I'm not certain people really understand the completeness of peace. Peace means no conflict ever. Basically, like being dead. I mean, what's life without conflict? Every interaction is filled with it. Maybe half-peace. Medieval peace.) but it's not realistic. It can't happen, unless you believe in heaven. So, it can't happen until after. And even then, I suspect the angels might be carrying around cattle prods to keep it the way it is. ...I feel like my rant is turning into a Dinosaur Comic. RYAN NORTH! HEY! HOW DOES THIS SOUND FOR A COMIC IDEA? IN EXCHANGE I WOULD LIKE THE T-SHIRT OF T REX HOLDING A MASS OF BALLOONS. IT'S ADORABLE.

The story of Pyramus and Thisbe is interesting as well. You know how it's said that Shankespeare stole from a lot of historical events and other stories? Very Romeo and Juliet. Thisbe is waiting for Pyramus to meet her at their secret meeting-spot, when a lioness comes by to get a drink of water from a nearby spring after eating a calf. Thisbe gets the hell out of there, leaving her cloak behind somehow, and the lioness leaves as well. Pyramus finds bloody footprints and the cloak and stabs himself in the side. Thisbe comes back, puts it all together, and stabs herself in the heart. There's more all around this, but I gave you the bare-bones minimum. Quite honestly, I prefer the Greek version. Romeo and Juliet is my least favorite of all Shankespeare's plays.

So! Who wonders where the word 'hermaphrodite' comes from? Well, it's fair to say it probably has Greek origins, being that 'Aphrodite' was the god of love. But how much do you really know? (How much do you really want to know, for that matter?) Well, this is one of the myths I didn't previously know, so I felt I must include it... Basically, a naiad sees a gorgeous boy. She comes onto him, but he remains impartial, so she apologizes and backs off... and then watches him bathe in a river. She gets so, uh, hot and bothered that she jumps into the water and clings to him, like a "giant squid whose tentacle suckers kiss what they embrace" (73) or ivy that grows up the trunk of a tree and kills it" (73). She prayers that they can always be together like that, and they form into one, multi gendered being. Hermaphroditus, understandably peeved at what has happened, prays that any other man who bathes in that pool should suffer the same fate. And there you have it. Those Greeks, they have an explanation for everything! (What about women?)

"The couple stared in fascinated loathing to see a hooded serpent's head appear from her bosom's cleavage, hiss and spit, flicker its tongue, and retreat into that unimaginable valley" (76). No point to this. This just made me die laughing.

Ohh, at one point (Book VII) describes a plague. The symptoms of the epidemic are as follows: "a burning feeling inside, and a flush on the face from the fever. The tongue is rough and swollen, the lips are parched, and the breathing is strenuous and labored" (140). Aside from that, victims go mad from thirst, dying around wells trying to get to water. Those who reach water drink until bloated, and then until they die. Undoubtedly, this is based on a number of plagues which ripped through Greece at various times. I know for a fact the plague that caused great thirsting was real--not even the vultures would touch the bodies, supposedly. As for the bloating, there was a disease which caused this. A famous thinker of the time decided if he buried himself in manure on a hot day he'd dispel the disease somehow. Surprise, surprise... he died.

"An astonishing thing! A marvel. But they did not rejoice. They wept at the ruin of all their neighbors, and quaked with fear at the power that could, in an instant, transform an earth they had taken for granted and make it strange. Or worse, that the strangeness is always lurking, always there but seldom visible" (167).

Oh, and apparently the Greeks though weasels bear their young through their mouth. Uh? It's probably safe to assume a Greek somewhere thought this and spread it because they saw a mother weasel toting a pup around in her mouth. But still. Mammals, guys! Mammals!

There's also a story about a girl in love with her brother. I find it odd that this would be taboo in Greek or Roman culture. I mean, Zeus is Hera's brother. And if it's okay for guys to sleep around because the head honcho is doing it (it really was okay for a Greek man to sleep around--but if you were a woman you were shamed forever) you think it'd mean anything else he does would be cool with the people. (Did R Kelly use that in his defense? He should have.) And there was a lot of Egyptian influence--and they were definitely cool with that sort of behavior. You want to marry your sister? Sure, whatever. Just make sure your heart isn't heavier than the feather of Truth, you hear?

Another interesting tidbit I noticed: You know how Beowulf is a pagan story with Christian ideals coming into form? Well, this isn't exactly the same thing, but I notice something very un-Greek and very Christian appearing in the text... the mention of Lucifer (IE, Satan). Now, Lucifer means 'morning star'--a term one would figure to be the sun. That is, Helios. Apollo. But he's specifically called Lucifer. Curiouser and curiouser. Lucifer's character isn't described explicitly, merely name-dropped as a character's father, but still. Then again, this was written around 7 AD--so Christianity wouldn't exist yet. So, actually, there's a good chance I just BSed a little. (But then why would Ovid bring in a new name like that instead of just using Helios or Apollo?) Hm... maybe Lucifer was present in the Torah then? (Didn't he got by the name Beelzebub in the Torah, though?) Well... I don't know. Idle wondering, that's all. But if you happen to come across an interesting explanation...

"And now is my poem finished, which not even Jupiter's rage, or fire and sword, or even the greedy gnawings of age shall ever undo. I await my death at some random hour, but all it can take is my body. Over this, it shall have no power. My work, my fame, will continue, ascending as high as the sky, and among the stars the name Ovid will never die but twinkle on forever--wherever the eagle has spread its wings and as long as the Latin language is written and read. If the words of poets have any truth or worth, they give this hope to me, who wrote them--that I shall become them, and live."

So, I forgot to mention earlier, it's an epic poem. So if you're not cool with that sort of thing, also pass this by--though it is much easier than, say, Paradise Lost. It's like a beginner epic poem, I guess.

So, I enjoyed this. Would I buy this? Well... I wouldn't search for it till my blood ran dry and I crumbled to the ground, but if I saw it at a book sale or flea market (where Robby D appeared to have procured this copy) I'd probably pick it up.