Richmond Lattimore (1906–1984)

Substance: Translation by a Greek scholar into plain English. Minimal notes, no cross-references or study apparatus. I like its simplicity.

I did Latin for Matric and my only exposure to classical drama was Plautus: boring is not the word and, to add insult to injury, he was supposed to be this penned these complete rip-roaring rib-ticklers. Did I ever crack a smile? I think not - except at the end of the period when the tedium was over. I don't even recall the name of the play but it doesn't matter - Plautus is uniformly unfunny, no matter how creative you try to be in your translation.

I was not disposed to enjoy classical show more drama then when I started University and had to read them for both my drama and my classics courses: I became a fan almost immediately however. So much depends on the translation and I have no hesitation of recommending Richmond Lattimore as one of the best translators of all time.

It might be regarded as a bit much to suggest that Shakespeare and Marlowe and Tourneur were all mere pale imitators of the great masters whose works they no doubt studied at school, but read this book of plays and see why I am tempted to state as much. show less

I only read selections from this book. I read the poems of Solon, Sappho, and Pindar. The selections hail from different areas of the ancient Greek world, from different genders, one female poet and two male poets, with different meters and styles. I liked Sappho the best.

One of her fragments states,
Like the sweet apple turning red on the branch top, on the
top of the topmost branch, and the gatherers did not notice it,
rather, they did notice, but could not reach up to take it.
I don't know show more what the metaphor is! A beautiful, young woman with unfulfilled hopes? Unfulfilled dreams of the gatherers? But it reminded me of Robert Frost's poem "After Apple Picking."

My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still,
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.

Robert Frost's poem has the same item--an apple or two left at the top of a tree, unpicked. This may be a metaphor for death, and the apples may be unfulfilled dreams.

What a great reminder to think about in this season of apple-picking when the crisp fall air seeps in through the windows each evening. It reminds us to live life to the fullest and pick those apples off the top branches. Reach for them. show less

I read this short volume of poetry by Richmond Lattimore and Alex Laing mostly because I have a copy on my shelves aloong with Lattimore's other works. They wrote the poems while students at Dartmouth in the 1920s, hence the title. A number of poems are about nature (particularly of the Hanover area), some about love. Lattimore's poems reflect an early preoccupation with mortality as well as his lifelong interest in Greek literature. They are certainly above the level typical of student show more compositions, but reflect an aesthetic that will no longer appeal to most readers. show less