Today, we believe that the map is a copy of the Earth, without realizing that the opposite is true: in our culture the Earth has assumed the form of a map. In Blinding Polyphemus, Franco Farinelli elucidates the philosophical correlation between cultural evolution and shifting cartographies of modern society, giving readers an interdisciplinary study that attempts to understand and redefine the fundamental structures of cartography, architecture, and the notion of "space." Following the lessons of nineteenth-century critical German geography, this (...) is a manual of geography without any map. To indicate where things are means already responding, in implicit and unreflective ways, to prior questions about their nature. Blinding Polyphemus not only takes account of the present state of the Earth and of human geography, it redefines the principal models we possess for the description of the world: the map, above all, as well as the landscape, subject, place, city, and space. (shrink)

Horseshoe crabs (Limulus polyphemus) have been in decline in Long Island Sound, and recently there has been discussion of whether the state of Connecticut should stop issuing licenses for commercial harvesting. This paper argues that in spite of concerns about the living fossil concept, the fact that the horseshoe crabs are living fossils should count in favor of more stringent protection. The paper distinguishes four different views about the status of the living fossil concept: 1) eliminativism; 2) redefinition; 3) (...) reframing; and 4) conceptual pluralism. Approaches 2–4 all treat the criteria associated with living fossils as picking out distinctive features of evolutionary history. Those distinctive features of evolutionary history link up with conservation values in several ways. More generally, drawing upon relevant work in environmental philosophy, it is argued that evolutionary history is relevant to aesthetic and environmental value. Moreover, eliminativists have trouble rendering intelligible a striking pattern in the recent scientific literature. Researchers undertaking conservation-relevant work frequently highlight the living fossil status of the taxa under study. (shrink)

Odysseus describes Polyphemus preparing his meal. One expects an indication of the terrifying size of the ; and so , lonely though it is in L, should not be abandoned: compare Ar. Pax.73 . must mean bowls for blood. But the blood of the Greeks flows into the cauldron . It seems probable therefore that is a comic periphrasis for the cauldron. Hermann read 395 after 399 as.

Philoxenus of Cythera's dithyramb, Cyclops or Galatea, was a poem famous in antiquity as the source for the story of Polyphemus' love for the sea-nymph Galatea. The exact date of composition is uncertain, but the poem must pre-date 388 B.C., when it was parodied by Aristophanes in the parodos of Plutus , and probably, as we shall see below, post-dates 406, the point at which Dionysius I became tyrant of Syracuse . The Aristophanic parody of the work may well (...) point to a recent performance in Athens, perhaps the first, and it is hard to identify any more significant reason for mentioning the poem. Previous accounts of the poem have concentrated on two main points, its supposed satirical purpose, and the possibly dramatic nature of its performance, but there has been no attempt to consider these two points in relation to each other, or to assess in detail the value of the source-material. I argue that although there is some evidence to support the satirical reading of the poem, the main value of this tradition is that it reveals Philoxenus' comic treatment of his subject, and that while the Galatea motif has previously been considered the essential element in this comic treatment, it was probably a small part of the plot, perhaps only briefly alluded to. Finally I provide reasons for doubting the prevalent view that the performance included dramatic elements. (shrink)

There is a major problem in connection with the wrath of Poseidon in Homer's Odyssey. We are told by Homer and Zeus that Poseidon raged continually against the hero from the time that the Cyclops was blinded until Odysseus reached Ithaca; and, when back on Ithaca the man complains to Athena about her absence and lack of help during the whole period of his wanderings after the fall of Troy, she says at 13.341-3 that she was avoiding confrontation with her (...) angry uncle during all that time. But the only specified manifestation of that anger is the storm roused by the sea-god after Odysseus leaves Calypso in Book 5, in the tenth year after Polyphemus’ prayer to his father for revenge. It seems extraordinary that Poseidon should have waited so long before acting against him, and then have attacked him only once, merely causing him difficulty before he reached Scheria, and not ensuring his late return in a miserable plight on another's ship after losing all his companions, as his blinded son had requested. (shrink)

In this brilliant essay, Jacques Derrida explores issues of vision, blindness, self-representation, and their relation to drawing, while offering detailed readings of an extraordinary collection of images. Selected by Derrida from the prints and drawings department of the Louvre, the works depict blindness—fictional, historical, and biblical. From Old and New Testament scenes to the myth of Perseus and the Gorgon and the blinding of Polyphemus, Derrida uncovers in these images rich, provocative layers of interpretation. For Derrida drawing is itself (...) blind; as an act rooted in memory and anticipation, drawing necessarily replaces one kind of seeing with another. Ultimately, he explains, the very lines which compose any drawing are themselves never fully visible to the viewer since they exist only in a tenuous state of multiple identities: as marks on a page, as indicators of a contour. Lacking a "pure" identity, the lines of a drawing summon the supplement of the word, of verbal discourse, and, in doing so, obscure the visual experience. Consequently, Derrida demonstrates, the very act of depicting a blind person undertakes multiple enactments and statements of blindness and sight. _Memoirs of the Blind_ is both a sophisticated philosophical argument and a series of detailed readings. Derrida provides compelling insights into famous and lesser known works, interweaving analyses of texts—including Diderot's _Lettres sur les aveugles_, the notion of mnemonic art in Baudelaire's _The Painter of Modern _ _Life_, and Merleau-Ponty's _The Visible and the _ _Invisible_. Along with engaging meditations on the history and philosophy of art, Derrida reveals the ways viewers approach philosophical ideas through art, and the ways art enriches philosophical reflection. An exploration of sight, representation, and art, _Memoirs of the Blind_ extends and deepens the meditation on vision and painting presented in _Truth and _ _Painting_. Readers of Derrida, both new and familiar, will profit from this powerful contribution to the study of the visual arts. (shrink)

Incongruity and anachronism characterize Ovid's treatment of the gods and mythological figures in the Metamorphoses; frequently the resulting discrepancy between the superhuman world of mythology and characteristic aspects of Roman society serves to pillory that society as well as to undermine the dignity of the traditional mythology. Linguistic parody is one of the tools Ovid uses to highlight these discrepancies. An example recently noted is that of the serenade delivered by Polyphemus the landlubber to his marine beloved, Galatea : (...) by casting this in the form of Gebetsparodie, Ovid mocks the literary topoi of the paraclausithyron as well as reducing the heroic status of the mythological protagonists. I suggest that in Tiresias’ brief appearance in Metamorphoses 3 Ovid imitates the pedantic locutions of jurists’ language in order to demonstrate how trivial and undignified are the preoccupations of the bickering Olympians. (shrink)

At the close of the Cyclops adventure Odysseus piously sacrifices to Zeus the ram that has carried him out of Polyphemus' cave. Yet the god spurns his offering and ponders instead the destruction of Odysseus' ships and their crews :These lines need explaining, as they present two difficulties, one formal, the other thematic. How can Odysseus know what Zeus is pondering? As a first-person narrator Odysseus assumes temporarily the role of the epic poet, yet without being given the latter's (...) omniscience. He retains therefore the restricted perspective of an epic character which precludes any precise knowledge of supernatural processes. (shrink)

‘Come, live with me,’ says Polyphemus , ‘and leave the grey sea to beat upon the shore; my cave has all the heart could desire, laurels and cypresses, ivy and a sweet-fruited vine; a stream too fed by the snows of Etna.’ α δέ τοι ατς ν λασιώτερος ημεν, ντ δρυς ξύλα μοι π σποδ κάματον πρ καιόμενος δ π τες και τν ψυχν νεχοιμαν κα τν ν θαλμόν τ μοι γλυκερώτερον οδέν.

The imperative to practice hospitality constitutes a mark of Western civilization. Already in Homer’s Odyssey, the hero Ulysses punishes Polyphemus for not having respected the obligation of hospitality towards him and his companions. In fact, hospitality has been a constitutive element of the West, marked by linguistic, cultural, and religious differences, in a world whose borders are supposed to be well defined. In his discussion of hospitality, Derrida shows how Socrates, in Plato’s dialogue The Apology of Socrates, places himself (...) in the position of a foreigner. In fact, Socrates presents himself as foreigner, that is, someone who is alien to the language and procedures of the court that is judging him. According to Derrida, he shows, in this way, the extent to which the foreigner is forced to ask for hospitality in a language he does not know. The court reduces Socrates to the other, the different. Moreover, the court forces him to deny his difference, his own identity, asking him to adapt himself to a system that he does not control. The paradox arises when Socrates, who regrets being regarded as a foreigner, asks the court to treat him at least as a foreigner. He feels so outraged that he asks to be granted at least the rights of a non-national. In doing so, Socrates shows how recognizing the rights of the foreigner generates hospitality but, at the same time, also limits it. Whenever a human being is recognized as human being, he or she will necessarily be seen as another, as someone different. This person will have to adapt him or herself to a system, culture or world that will define him or her as a foreigner. In short, in the phenomena that we tend to see as hospitality there is always a certain hostility. In a world of ongoing migratory crises, and in the context of a return to nationalisms of exclusion combined with populisms of prejudice and aversion to those who are different, it becomes imperative to rethink the ethics and politics of hospitality. In this context, Derrida’s distinction between conditioned and unconditioned hospitality can be useful. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Back in the Cave of the CyclopsPura Nieto HernándezIt is many years now since Denys Page (1955) demonstrated how the story of the Cyclops, as presented in book 9 of the Odyssey, is the product of a conflation of two distinct folklore themes that are well attested over a wide geographical area: on the one hand, that of the ogre-type giant who devours human flesh and is, in the (...) end, blinded, and, on the other hand, the "No-man" theme. In his study Page highlighted certain details in which the Odyssey differs from its possible sources: examples are the substitution of a wooden stake for the metal skewer as the instrument with which the hero blinds the monster, and the use of wine to put the giant to sleep.But the business of Polyphemus and the strange company of Cyclopes has posed other problems, which are very likely due to the number and diversity of themes that the composer of the Odyssey has skillfully woven together in this episode, and which relate the episode to the entire epic as we have it.1 We may note, in the first place, a topic that is all but obsessive in the poem: the exchange of hospitality gifts (xeinia), which is closely related in turn to the theme of food—how, when, and with whom one ought or ought not to eat—and to the respect due the gods (sacrifices, etc.). These and other themes may be subsumed under the opposition between nature and culture, which scholars have carefully studied,2 often arriving at the conclusion that the Cyclopes represent [End Page 345] one pole (the total absence of civilization), and the other pole—that of culture—is represented by the Phaeacians.3Another theme, no less central to the epic and which is raised in this episode as well, is that of revenge, and, in particular, revenge for an attack against a member of one's own family, since, in blinding Polyphemus, Odysseus arouses the wrath of the Cyclops' father, Poseidon, who attempts to avenge the harm the hero has done to his son. The episode of the Cyclops also puts on display the relationship between Odysseus and his companions, along with the special qualities that characterize the hero: his "cleverness," his ability to solve problems, his ambiguous identity, his capacity to be "reborn,"4 etc. The way these themes are intertwined, together with the poet's ingenious adaptation of folklore motifs, makes this episode not only unforgettable even to casual readers of the Odyssey but important for a complete understanding of the poem.The Cyclopes themselves, as Homer presents them in this episode, are problematic in various respects. One is the strange nature of the society (if this collection of creatures indeed forms a society) in which they live. It is described as a world that resembles the Golden Age, in which the earth yields its fruits continually and without toil, and yet the Cyclopes themselves seem wholly uncivilized: they live isolated from one another, have no assemblies, are unacquainted with justice, and, above all (as critics have particularly noted), they eat their guests.5 Again, their relationship with the gods is ambiguous, since they seem to live on the periphery of the divine world. Some scholars have seen a contradiction between 9.107, where we are told that the Cyclopes "trusted in the gods" and 9.274-77, which state clearly that the gods do [End Page 346] not matter to them.6 Another problem is that one of them—the only one with whom Odysseus has any contact and who is granted a name of his own (Polyphemus)—appears as the son of Poseidon. In other branches of the tradition (especially in Hesiod's Theogony) the Cyclopes are the sons of Heaven and Earth, or of Uranus and Gaia. That Polyphemus, and only he, it would seem, of this strange bunch is the son of Poseidon has been a source of some confusion.7In this essay, I reconsider these problems and offer some solutions which, while taking account of the possible conflation of several folktale motifs, nevertheless may enable a more global understanding of... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 127.2 (2006) 309-312 [Access article in PDF] Mark Buchan. The Limits of Heroism: Homer and the Ethics of Reading. The Body, In Theory: Histories of Cultural Materialism. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2004. x + 282 pp. Cloth, $65. Buchan's introduction challenges the critical consensus on the Odyssey as both "too teleological" and "not teleological enough." The epic's partisan perspective on its hero, with (...) an ethical universe designed to exculpate his violence, has been too long taken for granted. Meanwhile, critics do not take seriously enough the epic's insistence that Odysseus' return to his home is not the end he longs for. Buchan thus raises the hope for a genuinely new reading of the Odyssey, and to a great degree, the book lives up to its promise with close textual studies framed by Lacanian theory on human desire. Buchan's opening gambit of defining his ideas against a consensus grows less appealing, however, when it becomes a trope that cites only two or so scholars on any issue. The gesture conforms to Buchan's method of textual analysis, which exploits the provocative detail or juxtaposition, and his approach suggests how fruitfully psychoanalytic readings can expose a text's unconscious universe. But the lure of the big picture—the telos of the epic—irresistibly draws Buchan onto less yielding interpretive ground. Still, his results are illuminating for Homer and instructive about the limits of psychoanalytic interpretation.Buchan studies the "dangers of certain fantasies of the self" exploited by Odysseus in his return home (4). The fantasies that define the Phaeacians and Cyclopes are exposed and ruined through their encounters with Odysseus, in part because these peoples arrive at a correct interpretation of themselves too late. Odysseus has already gotten what he needs and left his victims with rocks hanging over them and a new sense of identity wrought by loss. Buchan's view of Odysseus is unexpected and provocative; it rejects his ethics and reads him purely as the agent of trauma that introduces those he meets to the human condition of desire. This style of analysis yields its best results in the early chapters on the "victims" of the returning hero: the Cyclops, the Phaeacians, and, with Menelaus, the sea-god Proteus.Each of these chapters reveals an artifact of human culture that comes into being at a moment of loss and thus marks an awakening to self-consciousness. These artifacts represent for the newly acculturated their loss as a predication of their humanity. Polyphemus' blinding causes the Cyclops to name him for the [End Page 309] first time, creating social language as a symptom of his loss and a concomitant desire for the Father as authority. Competition with Odysseus is the beginning of a truly human culture for the Phaeacians, who were formerly self-sufficient, never doubting themselves as contestants or fathers. When Odysseus defeats their athletes, they learn that their "games-without-loss" culture is no longer a sustainable system. Buchan's perspective yields arresting insights on both episodes, including a suggestive dialectic among the images of stone imperiling the Phaeacians, from the discus throw that opens an insurmountable gap to a mountain hanging over them when they vanish from our view. But Buchan's insights come at a cost of readerly indulgence, because they depend on a decidedly selective treatment of the text. For instance, he insists on Polyphemus' namelessness before he meets Odysseus and the lack among the Cyclopes of a father as an authority figure. His discussion of the Phaeacians requires the assumption that they have never lost a competition, although they compel every visitor to participate (197 and n. 29).Buchan's final study of a victim of an heroic nostos best illustrates the gains and costs of his method. Menelaus tricks Proteus into human desire by disguising himself and three comrades as seals: the god is compelled to count himself, a deft double entendre (4.453) to make up the counting unit of five by which he keeps track of his seals Proteus thus confounds... (shrink)

The Eleatic Stranger plays a central role in all reconstructions of Plato’s “Platonism.” This paper is a study of the literary form of the Sophist and Statesman and its significance for interpreting the Eleatic’s account of the nature of philosophy. I argue that the Eleatic dialogues are best understood through a comparison with the source-texts in the Odyssey that Plato used in their composition. I show that the literary form of the Sophist is a straightforward reworking of the encounter of (...) Odysseus and his crewmen with Polyphemus the Cyclops; and that the form of the Statesman is a somewhat more complex reworking of the narrative in which Odysseus and those loyal to him oppose Antinoös, leader of the Ithacan suitors. The comparison reveals that the Eleatic Stranger is no way Plato’s spokesman. On the contrary: by casting the Stranger in the role of Polyphemus and the Cyclopean Antinoös, Plato intends the Sophist and Statesman to be read as an explicit critique of the metaphysical and political doctrines that have since come to be identified as Platonism. In Plato’s characterization, the Eleatic Stranger is neither a philosopher nor a sophist. He is an intellectual—the sort of person who professes to be a philosopher and is often mistaken for one. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:American Journal of Philology 124.3 (2003) 473-476 [Access article in PDF] Metamorphoses and Metamorphosis:A Brief Response David H. Porter Like Joseph Farrell, I found much to admire in Mary Zimmerman's Metamorphoses, 1 but I nonetheless left the theater disappointed. Given all that the play—and this production—had to offer, what was it that I looked for but did not find? Excerpts from the foreword to Cesare Pavese's Dialogues with Leucò (...) suggest an answer: What is more acutely disturbing than to see familiar stories troubled into new life?... The surest, and the quickest, way for us to arouse the sense of wonder is to stare, unafraid, at a single object. Suddenly—miraculously—it will look like something we have never seen before. 2For me, what Pavese describes did not happen in Metamorphoses: I found the play an imaginative retelling of Ovid, but I'd been hoping for a true metamorphosis. In terms of the play's most famous feature, the pool of water that serves as a central stage, I felt most of the time that figures I knew from Ovid were playing out their expected roles around and in this pool. My hope had been that this brilliant theatrical innovation might mirror a play in which Ovid's tales themselves take on liquid freedom and fluidity, plunging, as it were, into this central metaphor to emerge changed, unexpected, reborn.The distinction I draw is one I've found useful both in assessing modern versions of ancient myth for myself and in teaching such works. 3 Readers will undoubtedly vary widely as to their favorites among the growing list of such versions, but I expect most would agree that a handful, including perhaps Joyce's Ulysses, Rilke's Sonnets to Orpheus, [End Page 473] Strauss's Elektra, Yeat's "Leda and the Swan," and Picasso's "Guernica," fall into a special category: different as they are in genre, style, and approach, all strike us as works of artists who have so inhabited a myth, so made it part of themselves—and themselves part of it—that what emerges is totally their own, totally transformed: a re-creation. With each we feel that never before have we experienced the myth this way, and that never again will the myth be quite the same for us—precisely what a New York Times reviewer wrote about a version of Medea that was playing at the Classical Theater of Harlem in April 2002: "I suspect that no matter how many versions I see in the future, my perception of them all will be affected by the revelations here." 4Again, this is the sort of reaction that Metamorphoses, for all its virtues, did not elicit in me, and I would extend this exclusion to most other modern reworkings of ancient myth—among them Pavese's own Dialogues with Leucò, which, despite the penetrating insights of his foreword, strike me the same way—as charming, distinctive retellings, not revelations. The issue, I think, has to do with the depth and degree of an artist's immersion in a myth, something that goes well beyond the superficial test of how far the artist diverges from "the original." Eliot's and O'Neill's myth-based plays, for instance, or a novel like Updike's The Centaur, make radical changes in the names and settings of the ancient myths, but in contrast to Joyce's Ulysses, the changes feel artificial, incompletely realized—transpositions rather than transformations. In contrast, Odilon Redon's painting of Polyphemus as a mountainous crag from which a huge voyeuristic eye peers out springs directly from an image in the Odyssey—and yet has a nightmare quality that is indeed "like something we have never seen before." 5A musical analogy may be useful. Listeners reported that when Franz Liszt played Beethoven, he gave the impression at each performance [End Page 474] that he was creating the music anew. 6 And Edward Steuermann, Arnold Schoenberg's long-time colleague, once wrote, "Is not music, the great music, so much alive because it was... (shrink)

Victor Klemperer, German philologist and Professor at the University of Dresden, bears testimony to his survival during the Nazi years in his Diaries (1933–1945). Progressively excluded from all social life because of his Jewish religion, Klemperer is forced to recognize himself as a non-subject by the end of the war, calling himself “Nobody” in reference to Ulysses with Polyphemus, the Cyclops. Our article aims to show the mental — cognitive and corporal — process underlying this recognition. Our study will (...) explore the two-pronged thrust of this process: faced with the inexorable destruction of his self, Klemperer has to acknowledge the limits of his analytical capacities. But this extreme experience will enable him to create somatic knowledge destined to recognize what he calls “thought of extinction”. To conclude, we show how this reasoning is based upon action language which consists in naming the body. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:A Politics of Eating: Feasting in Early Greek SocietyJohn RundinIn Euripides’ Cyclops, Silenus and his satyr companions have been shipwrecked in the realm of Polyphemus and have become his slaves. 1 Odysseus lands there, meets Silenus, and, conversing with him, asks who inhabits the land:Odysseus: Who occupies the area? A race of beasts? Silenus: Cyclopes. They live in caves, not roofed houses. Odysseus: Who is their leader? Or (...) do they have a democracy? Silenus: They’re herdsmen. No one has any power over anyone else. Odysseus: Do they sow Demeter’s grain? Or what do they live on? Silenus: Milk and cheeses and meals [borai] of mutton. Odysseus: Do they have Dionysus’ drink, the liquid of the vine? Silenus: Not at all. For that reason, they live in a land without choruses. Odysseus: Are they hospitable, and do they treat strangers with respect? Silenus: They claim that strangers have the most delicious flesh. [End Page 179] Odysseus: What do you mean? They like meals [borai] of men they have killed? Silenus: Everyone who comes here has been eaten up.(117–28)Silenus has rapidly made clear the beastly level of Cyclopean gastronomy. The savagery of the Cyclopes’ diet is underlined by his diction: the LSJ tells us that the word translated twice here as “meals,” borai, is more appropriately used to describe food for animals than for people. Silenus also lets us know that the Cyclopes are herdsmen and, like atavistic throwbacks to a time before cereal culture, raise no grain. 2 They are so backward that they do not have even wine. One dire consequence of this is spelled out by Silenus: they have no choruses. Polyphemus himself later illustrates another: they totally lack sympotic sophistication (483–589). So great is their culinary degeneracy, that, in defiance of the accepted norms of hospitality, they eat strangers who visit their realm. Not only, however, do the Cyclopes lack the elements of a cultured cuisine, they also lack basic political institutions. They have no ruler, nor do they have a democracy: as Silenus says, “no one has any power over anyone else.” The lack of political institutions and of culinary development may at first seem like two independent elements of a culturally deprived life. This is not the case, however. We shall see that in early Greek culture there is a strong connection between eating and politics. Indeed, it will soon be apparent that the Cyclopes’ culinary and political deficiencies are closely related.It is my hope to demonstrate this relationship. Emphasis will be placed on representations of eating in the Iliad and the Odyssey. It will then be shown how the patterns uncovered in Homeric texts lived on in later documents and institutions. It is impossible to know how accurately the life portrayed in the Homeric poems represents the historical conditions of any real society. 3 It may be true that the analysis of institutions [End Page 180] described in them is relevant only to an ideal world or to an aristocratic ideology. Such complex issues, however, may be avoided by merely analyzing certain aspects of eating as presented by Homer without thought of how well those aspects match the practice of any actual people. In the endeavor, of course, caution must be exercised not to expect too much of the data. Even if Homer’s narrative does represent some actual society, it is the nature of narrative to be selective, and it would therefore be inappropriate to try to extract from the poems either a comprehensive picture of foodways or any quantitative data about them. Nevertheless, it is impossible not to be struck by how consistent representations of eating in Homer are, and, moreover, not to acknowledge that patterns revealed in the Homeric representations had a long afterlife not only in later texts but even in social institutions.Feasting and the Homeric Political EconomyOn the shield of Achilles, a microcosm of the Iliadic world, is wrought a scene which reveals some political aspects of eating.And he put on it [the shield] the precinct of a king. There workmen were reaping with sharp sickles in their hands. Some of the bunches of grain were falling... (shrink)

This paper considers two scenes in Books 15 and 16 of the Punica of Silius Italicus: Hasdrubal’s celebration of the founding of Carthage with the ecphrasis of the general’s cloak (Sil. 15,410–440) and Scipio’s visit to the court of King Syphax (16,170–276). For both passages there are important reference texts in scenes of Vergil’s Aeneid and Statius’ Thebaid that have until now received no, or not enough, attention: Aeneas’ visit to the future Rome (Aen. 8,102–553) and the sacrifice of Eteocles (...) (Theb. 11,205–238). After a brief assessment of the historiographical basis, I set out the influence in content and language of these reference texts on the two scenes. Further, I consider the adaptation of other epic pre-texts in the ecphrasis of Hasdrubal’s cloak and propose a new interpretation: the ecphrasis links Hasdrubal to Ganymede, Polyphemus and Cacus, and Scipio with Jupiter, Odysseus and Hercules. The study highlights positive and negative aspects of the pre-texts and shows the ambivalent characterisation of Silius’ Scipio, who is associated both with positive figures (Hercules and Aeneas) and with the sinister Polynices. The shared reference of the two scenes of the Punica has a linking, framing and preparatory function. (shrink)

본고의 목표는 구혼자들의 악행의 본질이, 영웅의 재산과 아내에 대한 그들의 탐욕에 있는 것이 아니라, 인간가치에 대한 전면적인 파괴라는 것을 보이는 것이다. 이해를 돕기 위해, 구혼자들과 많은 유사성을 보이는 폴뤼페모스와의 비교연구가 이루어질 것이다. 한편, 인간가치를 파괴하고, 신들처럼 살고자 하는 구혼자들의 욕구를 이해함으로써, 민담이나 기타 구송 귀향시에 등장하는 남편의 승리와는 근본적으로 다른, 오뒷세우스의 복수의 의미를 좀 더 깊은 차원에서 이해하고자 한다. 구혼자들은 이타카의 실질적인 지배자들로서, 신과 인간을 능멸하며, 인간의 행위를 지배하는 모든 규범들을 무시한다. 그들은 신들과 인간의 경계를 무시한 채, 마치 신들처럼 행세한다. (...) 따라서, 오뒷세우스와 구혼자들의 전투는 인간조건과 인간의 삶을 두고 대립하는 자들의 대결로 파악할 수 있으며, 이는 양립할 수 없는 두 가치의 충돌이다. (shrink)

This chapter contains sections titled: The Allure of Monsters Explaining the Allure: First Look Stalking the Deeper Reasons Closing in for the Kill Removing Empathy The Prison of Rules Conclusion.