Euripides

As a modern reader, reading this ancient Greek piece will likely give you a bit of a headache. Here, Euripides depicts how Agamemnon, the commander-in-chief of the Greek punitive expedition against Troy, constantly changes his mind regarding a crucial decision. After all, a prophet has commanded him to kill his daughter Iphigenia as a sacrifice to obtain a favorable wind so that he can sail to Troy with the waiting Greek fleet.

We see Agamemnon constantly wavering, first in one direction, show more then in the other, driven by his brother Menelaus (who himself also revises his opinion a few times), by his wife Clytemnestra, by his conscience, and by the pressure of leadership. Whatever decision he makes, it will haunt him for the rest of his life. To my knowledge, there is only one other early story in world literature that depicts such a tragic catch-22, namely the biblical story of the sacrifice of Abraham. But that reference immediately clarifies the difference: in the biblical story, it concerns a test of Abraham’s loyalty to the one God, and at no point is there any doubt on Abraham’s part. What a contrast with Euripides’ Agamemnon. Nevertheless, loyalty (and a little fear for his position and even his life) will also be the deciding factor in Agamemnon’s final decision—loyalty in this case to the Greek cause, but viewed entirely from Agamemnon’s own and not a divine perspective.

That typifies Euripides through and through: human action does indeed take place within a divine order (and gods do occasionally appear in his plays, certainly at the end), but it is the inner drives of the characters themselves that prevail, even if these are sometimes brought about under social pressure. A striking example of this is the sudden shift in the attitude of the victim herself, Iphigenia, who at the end suddenly makes a decision—albeit out of a thirst for eternal glory— to voluntarily submitting herself to her sacrifice, and even encouraging her father in that direction.

To us, level-headed 21st-century readers, all this seems highly improbable, and the remarkable ending (with a kind of resurrection that will appeal greatly to later Christians) adds another element to this. Formally, too, there are some disturbing elements due to the soap opera quality and the convoluted pathos. But along with Medea, I consider this absolutely the strongest and most moving play by Euripides.

A bit more about the historical aspects of this play, and also an important side note, can be found in my History account on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/8595089476. show less

This is great drama with passion, gods, plot complications, and difficult family relationships. But what else would you expect from Euripides, whose dramas have lasted for thousands of years and have inspired great dramatists well into our current times.

This classic volume of four plays, edited by David Grene and Richmond Lattimore, includes Medea, Hippolytus, Alcestis, and The Children of Heracles. There are few dramas that demonstrate passion in the way that Medea does. When her husband show more Jason leaves her for adventure and other women Medea plots to exact a revenge that raises the question whether she is exacting justice or merely mad.

In Hippolytus it is the relationships among the characters that stood out for me amidst a complicated plot influenced by rivalry among the gods (Aphrodite and Artemis). The drama highlights the relationship between Hippolytus and his father Theseus, but also brings in to play the importance of the Nurse and her relationship with Phaedra. This is notable because Euripides, unlike his predecessor Aeschylus, included characters that were lower-class working people.

Throughout these plays the influence of the gods is important in determining the fate of the characters leading to questions about the nature of fate and destiny. Just as important are large questions about justice and honor as when Athens protects the children of Heracles when they seek asylum. This example also demonstrates how relevant these plays are to our life today and explains, in part, why they have been so influential over the centuries. We are indebted to Euripides for his examination of the nature of humanity with both its flaws and greatness. I would recommend these plays to all who want to understand what it means to be human. show less

Suddenly seized by a desire to re-read this play by Euripides written in 431BC. But had to wait till I found it in an op shop. I found the Penguin Classics translation by Philip Vellacott. Such a savage story that gives me considerable pause for thought. Easy to see how Medea is currently embraced as a heroine but she has a long history of killing. The play becomes more nuanced if we see her as a barbarous murderer capable of anything. In many ways what I like about it (the play) is the lack show more of redemption or even justice. Although, she considers killing her sons part of her quest for justice. There is a moment where she wavers. Somehow, I'd like to zoom in on that as the pivotal moment. Much to think about here. No wonder it's still talked about nearly 2,500 years later. Think I'll read about Jason next or (if I can find it) Rachel Cusk's version. There's The Golden Fleece by Robert Graves. show less

Greek playwright number three! There are four plays in this book.

Medea: This seems to set the tone for the anthology. The intro mentions Euripides seems to be concerned with vengeance, but I'd go a bit further and suggest his primary theme is female wrath. Medea is the brutal pinnacle of female wrath, willing to kill her own children, her husband's new bride, and the bride's father in order to destroy her faithless husband's life. Then she leaves in a chariot pulled by dragons. Epic.

Hecabe: show more Concerns the fate of Troy's queen in the wake of the fall of Troy. Reduced to slavery, her children dead, she still finds a way to extract violent vengeance on a man who wronged her. There's some tension here between the Greek world-view and our modern sensibilities. Agamemnon comments on how "unlucky" poor Hecabe is - when he is the very man who burned her city, killed her family and enslaved her! To the ancient Greeks all this was the doing of the gods - had they not willed Troy to fall, it never would have - but a modern audience is likely to find Agamemnon disingenuous. There's another funny-weird moment, when Agamemnon comes across the commotion, sees Hecabe's victim crawling from her tent, blinded and furious...and basically tells the guy "Chill out dude, I need to hear both sides of the story." My man, how can someone who just had their eyes stabbed out be expected to chill??

Electra: This is the third version of this episode I've read, and in some places responds specifically to Sophocles' version. The sensible sister disappears in Euripides' telling - there's no room for a moderating female character in this battle of vengeance between Electra and Clytaemnestra. Orestes instead serves as the voice for moderation, the hapless young man caught between these two battling women. While so many characters in the play insist that Clytaemnestra's death is just, the mood of the play seems to suggest otherwise. Perhaps if Electra had been more willing to hear out her mother, the bloodshed could have been avoided. Or, perhaps, the gods demanded Clytaemnestra must die, regardless of human reservations.

Heracles: This story opens with Megara, her children, and her elderly father in law praying for salvation from the invaders ravaging her city. It seemed out of place at first, as it appeared to be a classic tale of the strong oppressing the weak. But then Iris and Madness appear, both female deities, sent by Hera to bring Heracles down in his moment of triumph. There's a couple of those human moments that remind us that despite the thousands of years that separate us, we share a common humanity with the ancient Greeks. First is Heracles' fatherly gentleness with his sons, the other is the comforting friendship Theseus shows when Heracles is at his lowest. We might have completely different world-views, but friendship and love for one's children are a constant.

I find the preoccupation with female rage very interesting. I've commented before that Greek art seems to acknowledge the humanity of women, and the artists seem to be aware that women suffer at the hands of men and the patriarchal society they live under. Perhaps these works represent a fear - of what might happen should their wives or mothers or daughters one day refuse to take the abuse patiently, and instead decide to take revenge. show less