Homer and the Lost Art of Storytelling
THEY SIT ON MY BOOKCASE and taunt me, the old masterworks of epic poetry. Whenever I reach the end of my nightly reading material, and begin to consider what to read next, I walk over to the shelves and stare longingly at these revered works: The Odyssey, The Aeneid, Metamorphoses, Beowulf, Paradise Lost . . . all of which I did enjoy reading, you understand, for one English course or another at some point in the distant past.
Yet now, although my interest in reading them again has been simmering for some years, I invariably find myself thinking that I’d prefer a book about a contemporary protagonist with whom I can truly identify, from an author who can wrap me in intimate descriptions of the hero’s thoughts and feelings as he or she goes about the business of navigating the world.
I want to read about a character who has a pulse.
A docile reader might simply give up on epic poetry, as many seem to have done. However, the number of influential thinkers and leaders who have sworn by the value of these great works—century after century and still to this day—compels me to take another look.
THE TALES ARE IMPRESSIVE. Of that, my past encounters with the great epics have removed all doubt. Their style is the product of a classical artistry, to be sure—which is why their apparent inaccessibility may induce such puzzlement in the contemporary reader who, after finishing The Hobbit, decides to crack open a copy of Beowulf. This inaccessibility is not of language so much as of style. In epic poems such as those I listed earlier, the actions and choices of the characters give us a profound insight into human nature but are cushioned hardly at all with the descriptive or narrative content that seems to knit together so many contemporary novels. Today’s reader arrives expecting a stew but finds only the dry meat and potatoes.
Why? Consider how in last week’s article (The Vivaldi Concerto: Raw and Refined, JAN 2010) the “raw” harmonic and rhythmic structure of Antonio Vivaldi’s music sounded beautiful no matter which instruments were performing it—like the script to a fine play. As it turns out, the style of Beowulf or The Odyssey represents something of a script, too: these works are not plays, of course, but they are indeed performance pieces which arise from the domain of poets and storytellers.
Like a Vivaldi concerto, most epic poems are the products of an EVENT CULTURE in which the manuscript is simply a blueprint to be fully realized only in moments of live performance. To slog silently through an epic poem as if reading a novel could understandably become a chore, but to hear the same verses spoken aloud by a master storyteller in a crowded room will ignite the classicized energy of the narrative style like never before.
The epic that is first in line for my attention also happens to be quite literally first in the Western canon: THE ILIAD, which I have not read even once. And there it sits, forever bound up with The Odyssey, an old favorite from Miss St Pierre’s first-year English course at Andover. If we follow some basic assumptions about Homer’s artistry—of which there has been more than a little controversy over the centuries—we can identify several external constraints that likely shaped the classical style that the written text now displays.
Homer himself was said to have been blind, and many scholars suspect that The Iliad and The Odyssey were both well-formed long before someone committed them to writing. As a bard, or rhapsode, performing by the fireside in ancient Greece, Homer likely operated within a constraint of periodicity—the “holy grail” of periodicity, in fact, due to the possibility that he recited successive portions of his epics not weekly or monthly but nightly. He also faced a constraint of materials, weaving a tale delivered by the voice and gesticulations of one person alone, unlike in a play or a movie. Lastly, as was already discussed, Homer honored the constraint of function, providing lively entertainment with his episodic, partly-improvised tales—the poetic nature of which was meant from the start to be heard aloud.
The noted Shakespearean actor Eldon Quick provides a brilliant encapsulation of this idea: “When Homer set out to create The Iliad,” Quick argues, “he did not have in mind creating Great Western Literature; he had in mind creating great entertainment.” I think you will find his demonstration of this fact to be quite inspirational:
IF YOU ARE an artist who works in a temporal medium, creating arts which unfold over time, such as music, drama, and storytelling, then attention to function can be an excellent way to begin classicizing your style. Today, drama is the area of literature in which the functional constraints of an event culture are most likely to appear (other forms of functional constraint govern the writing of biographies, for instance). But in our era of television and video games, the practice of live storytelling may be just the thing for people seeking a cosy, social alternative. Give it a shot:
- Put those props away. All you need is your voice, your face, and your hands. Let the artist in you do the rest.
- Find an audience. Cajole at least one friend into listening to you on a regular basis: once a night, or every other night. Snacks are a good incentive! Your storytelling sessions should all be of a consistent duration.
- Take it easy. Don’t feel obligated to sound brilliant or profound. As your craftsmanship grows, the simple plot with which you started will grow more complex of its own accord.
Experienced writers may be surprised to find that their storytelling style differs dramatically in pacing or in tone from the style of their usual writing. You can find out about constraints of function in other arts by reading “Shall We Dance?” Art and Function (NOV 2010), my earlier article on the subject.
I have personally witnessed the proper telling of an epic tale—in a crowded hall before a roaring fire—on just a handful of occasions, but I suspect that is more than most people can say. Have you ever sat in the presence of a master storyteller? Please do share your experiences in the comments; I’d love to discover that this wonderful art hasn’t been “lost” after all.
This was a most interesting read, and nicely written. I have listened to a west african griot before and the whole night thereafter was filled with spirits and ghosts and invisible beings!
Thanks for this!
I really like the tone in this article. Definitely my favorite, and more like these, please!
As per story telling, when I was little I used to go for storytelling at the library. Also my mother, who may not consider herself this, was quite the master at telling us bedtime stories and making them up to relate our day’s adventures.
Can you also tell us about your experience? It sounds quite intriguing!
Thanks for commenting!
My first experience with a storytelling didn’t go so well. I was three years old, sitting with my mother in a plump armchair near the fireplace at the Andover Bookstore. The storyteller began to wave around a sparkly magic wand, so terrifying me that I turned tail and buried my head beneath the cushions, emerging many years later the dapper scholar that I am today.
More recently, I had the pleasure of listening to a Native American storyteller one evening, next to a roaring fire at the Log Cabin in Phillips Academy’s Cochran Bird Sanctuary. His traditional tales were a joy to hear and, I think, a joy to tell.
J.R.R. Tolkein is known to have commenced his Old English lecture series by offering his astonished Oxford undergraduates the opening lines of Beowulf, spoken with a thunderous voice in the untranslated Anglo-Saxon. Professor Tolkein’s tenure had ended long before my time, of course, but his capable successor—Dr Stuart Lee—continued the tradition by providing the same opening to his own Old English lectures in 2008, throwing up a powerpoint slide of crackling flames and dimming the lights for good measure.
I too have enjoyed a master story teller a few weeks before the christmas holidays. He (a Dickens descendant) performed A CHRISTMAS CAROL for a small audience that was truly memorable and it eclipses all the performances of multiple character plays of it, past and since.
Yet another wonderful, thought provoking article! The first name that comes to mind when I think of storytellers is Judith Black. She covers many topics for all ages—right up to her program: “Retiring the Champ” which is about end of life care. She’s made many CDs as well, but I would think something would be missing when you can’t see gestures and facial expressions. I think the role of the listener is as important as that of the teller in order for the story to create a unique reality within each participant’s mind, which may be why people come away from a storytelling experience with different opinions of whether it was worthwhile entertainment for them or not.
Eldon Quick must be a tremendous performer to experience live. My only memory of storytelling is from when I was small. I can still visualize Anansi the spider doing his mischievous deeds.
Hello, Derek!
I fear that in our search for master storytellers we are overlooking perhaps the most common: our bedtime story readers and preschool teachers. It was slightly mentioned earlier, but parents and teachers really are the every day storytellers that keep literature alive in our culture. If not read to at a young age, children are less likely to grow up into story-loving adults. Additionally, from literature we jump to text books, newspapers, and magazines that expand our minds and connect us to the present world. You wouldn’t think that The Cat in the Hat or Amelia Bedelia would have such a large impact, but 2-5 are really formative years that desire special attention. Inside every teacher and parent is a Homer just waiting to be recognized!
As a retired preschool teacher of many years, I appreciated Rel’s comments. I had never thought of myself as a storyteller until I read his comment. My favorite part of the day with my class would be to gather the children around in a circle, to read them a story. I would read with a lot of expression and use many animated gestures to bring the stories to life and to sustain their interest. They would be a captive audience, and later I would observed them acting out each page from a favorite book to their friends. Although they could not read, they had memorized some of the words or would create a story of their own. They loved “reading” and telling stories to their friends. This school was made up of 2 to 5 year olds, who could at a very young age master the art of storytelling very well. Reading books or telling stories to young children does indeed give them the foundation and the skills to develop their imaginations and to instill an interest in literature, whether it was being entertained by a storyteller, or puppets, or a children’s play. The seed had been planted for them to go forth and enjoy all the wonderful stories that will be offered to them in years to come.
I enjoyed Eldon Quick’s demonstration of his excellent story telling of Iliad, chapter 1, which left a lasting impression on me, where if I had read the first chapter of Iliad, it may have been only a fleeting impression. I feel this new generation of “instant gratification mode” is in danger of missing out on being exposed to the lasting qualities that can come from the art of good storytelling, when one takes the time to sit by the fire and listen to a good story from a good storyteller. A memorable experience! This was once again another well-written article from the editor on yet another form of art, that hopefully will not get lost in this very technical world.
Love this post! Storytelling is one of the earliest parts of our development as a species.
As a member of Toastmasters, my next focus is going to be on Storytelling – they have a whole manual dedicated to that particular facet of public speaking.