Oedipus Rex

What more can be added to this clever but intensely sorrowful story? I will limit myself to a few things that struck me.
First of all, the ingenious construction: no 2-part division, as we saw in Sophocles' previous plays (which did not always connect perfectly), but a deliberate step-by-step build-up in which, just as for Oedipus himself, the full impact of the drama only becomes clear very gradually. In addition, the author has cleverly added half-sentences in the earliest phase that suggestively foreshadow what is to come.
Oedipus is the central figure from beginning to end, and that is not self-evident (once again: the titles of ancient tragedies were sometimes assigned much later), for this is not the case in Ajax, Antigone, or show more Electra. He is the binding element, and we receive the unsettling revelations together with him, and endure their emotional impact together with him (a small exception for his wife/mother Jocasta, who realized what was happening a little earlier). Only the final section seems a bit tacked on to a modern reader, with Oedipus’s remarkably long lament and the fuss with his children. I read among experts that this does indeed have a purpose: Oedipus, who was previously literally seeing but actually blind, now becomes literally blind through his own doing, but actually seeing—namely realizing the impact of the (horrific) deeds he has committed. This will later enable him (in Sophocles’ play *Oedipus at Colonus*) to close the entire chapter of the curse resting upon his family.
Just as in *Antigone*, Sophocles portrays his protagonists in a layered, multifaceted manner: they are (in most cases) both guilty and innocent. Oedipus wants to be an excellent, righteous, and responsible leader of his city, but he turns out to have unknowingly caused great harm; although it also becomes clear that he made mistakes by not investigating certain wrongdoings sooner. Incidentally, the latter also applies to his wife/mother Iocaste, his brother-in-law Creon, the blind seer Teiresias, and a few other minor characters. By extension (philosopher Ben Schomakers pointed this out to me), it is actually the entire city-state that swept stinking affairs under the rug in the past. In short, just as in Antigone, it is not possible to place the blame on a single person; it is the ambiguity of reality that, as I read in Simon Critchley, is perfectly illustrated here by Sophocles.
And yet another evident lesson, explicitly addressed in the final verses: happiness and prosperity are very relative things; no one can definitively revel in them until he or she has reached their final day: “No mortal should be called happy until he has passed the end point of life without having had to suffer pain.” (there’s an echo of this in Plato). For me, this, along with Antigone and Euripides’ Medea, is the best that the Greek tragedians have to offer.

Disclaimer: As an exception, because this can still be appreciated so much, I am giving this a rating. show less

In these end times, it's rare to come to any great work fresh, but it's hard to imagine much that's as predetermined as Oedipus--forget Freud, forget Turin Turambar, forget that the Sphinx has been missing her nose so long none of us even remembers what she looked like when she asked Oedi that riddle that we've all known the answer to as long as we knew that riddles had answers. Even the basics of this story are, pardon the expression, mother's milk--if you know one thing about The Brothers Karamazov it's Jesus and the Inquisitor, or maybe that a SON MURDERS his mean old dad; and if you know one thing about Hamlet it's to be or not to be or maybe that there's something a bit OEDIPAL between the prince and his ma; but if you know one show more thing about Oedipus, it's the same thing everyone else in the world knows: he killed his father and married his mother, and even 2400 years later he's not lived it down.

And granted, there are surprises actually coming to the play--Sophocles observes the thee unities (in fact he was Aristotle's major model for what constitutes quality drama, including those stupid unities), and so this isn't done in the way a modern would do it, as a twisted Bildungsroman, a coming to filthy self-knowledge. We don't see the expected sweep of a tragic life: no Sphinx, no killing at the crossroads, except in flashback; we don't see Oedipus living as a broken man, and feel the catharsis of watching time restore him some human dignity (I understand some of that comes in the sequels). Instead we get the story of a single (really bad) day, in classic(al) Thespian style. And for me at least it does suffer the littlest bit for it. Things don't happen for a reason, but simply because they're fated; we create our own prison; yeah yeah. But at least that long term gives us a chance to make our own meaning. Sophocles is a master and the text is rich, rich, but anything we can say about the "meaning" here, the what is a just king (Oedi and Cleon and their respective flaws) or the compulsion to self-knowledge (Oedipus as proto-Faust) or the sick generation game of blood-will-out and how we repeat our parents' mistakes (I note that the original reason for Laius's being cursed, according to Euripedes, was that he buggered a young boy--history's original pederast, in the Greek imagination, as before that boy-love was reserved for the gods because it was soooo hot--and think it doesn't take much imagination to see this as a kind of story about child abuse, somewhat displaced of course, and its scars)....

...you can do all that but the fact remains that all that happens in this play is--Sophocles doesn't even show you, he tells you--Oedipus kills his dad and marries his mom, and puts out his eyes, and that's it, that's the play. It's all anyone knows about Oedipus, and they're still talking about it. It's like high school.

And so there's a slight unfinishedness about this, despite yer precious unities. Luckily, as a dramatization of what amounts to just a cringeworthy episode, it's magnificent. Sophocles knew his craft. Every step--the bravado, the intrigue, the slowly unfolding horror--is riveting, and elevated in that Greek way that makes you really believe in the significance of it all, and the characters are so deft and economically conveyed. Oedipus most of all, and the fact that everyone knows except him (even the original audience did, because the story was an old one) is what makes it work. He's not some crawling goatbotherer, not an angel--what he is is a worldbeater, a hero and bully, bursting with self-love and assurance of his place in the pantheon, a too-good-for-his-own-goodnik whose monster victory (putting him on a place with Theseus, Bellerophon, etc.) came from not only an immense piece of cleverness but also from a riddle about the measure of the lineaments and life of a man: four legs in the morning, two in the noon, three in the evening like Oedipus's poor auld dead dad, right?

It's the biggest, most artfully induced cringe of all when you think about it that way (depending how you handle the part where he puts brooches through his eyes). Oedipus is the tall brilliant son of Polybus and Merope, the prince of Corinth, and no doubt on some level the awful prophecy that causes him to flee home is also a source of self-fascination--some hint of mystery, of divine machinations, and if the prognosis of fatherslaying and motherfucking is a bit usettling, well, let him go deal with that by making his name elsewhere, taking Thebes, all too easy, as is his birthright (ouch) and the rest of the spoils, up to and including the recently bereaved queen. No propriety will stay in his way, and how that must multiply his chagrin when the truth comes--he is the riddlemaster, the mocker of Tireisas, THE HERO, and killing your dad and marrying your mum is the kind of thing that happens to poor people.

One more metaphor there--if you're born to success, or even a self-made man, don't look to closely at how you got it. And that's the final measure of Sophocles's artistry (at least in this book--I'm looking forward to that how-do-you-put-your-life-back-together stuff in ): that he manages to make this high-fiving swell sympathetic. Sophocles leaves Oedipus at the darkest moment: when "Who am I?" becomes "What am I?" And who (knowing all along who, what ego, what id) mutilated my life?" The last thing we see him do is put out his eyes not because he can't face suicide, exactly, but because he can't face the idea of seeing Laius and Jocasta in Hades, nor face the world as the thing he now is. And then, gather his daughters to him. Suffering makes us complex, and I'm curious to see what's next for the Prince of Thebes, but until then this little number hits like a thunderbolt. show less

This play was my introduction into Tragedy and Drama and what an inauguration it was! The horrible circumstances that fall upon Oedipus are truly horrific and I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.

The Gods are a cruel bunch, but I already knew this after reading The Iliad. Oedipus learned the hard way that trying to change the course of his terrible destiny was fruitless and in vain. He just couldn't see (no pun intended hehe) that he was the reason the vile plague on Thebes continued. There is so much foreboding and cosmic irony stuffed into the story that its impossible to not laugh as you see the coincidences in the dialogue.

Truly a great, entertaining, sad, tragic, and amazing play. It would've been amazing to watch this performed show more in ancient Athens. show less

Read this in high school, but images from the book have stuck with me over the years. The ending is so weird and perverse--I'm amazed they allow teenagers to read this. It's fitting that there's a complex named after it. The Greeks were interested in exploring the darker aspects of the human psyche, but within a framework that made it palatable: "He didn't realize what he was doing!"

What's interesting about fate, and what's different from our world and Oedipus's, is that "fate" doesn't really exist in our world. No real oracles go around telling you you're going to sleep with your mother. Instead, it's a philosophical device. On one side you've got "free will" (traditional very Western, very American even with the idea of the individual going forward), and on the other side you've got your fatalists (see my mom and her Vietnamese cosmology [is that the word? Whatever, I’m going to use it], in which the people who are around you are literally born to be so because of the debt you owe each other in the present, owed in the past, and/or will use in the future). I'm not really a fan of philosophy, and as far as I'm show more concerned the goodness of each approach is only to be judged by how useful they are to a specific person in a specific situation (and place and time).

I say that there is no fate in our world, but that's not really true. What separates fate from free will is foresight, and there's plenty of that in our world. A cancer patient (like my aunt) being told she has six months to live. One step lower on the surety scale, my remaining aunts and my mother living under the knowledge that they're likely (what, like 50/50 chances) to get this dubious inheritance from their father (oh hey! Antigone, didn’t see you there). Or even to the much lower level of common sense, like stock markets: what goes up so precipitously, without merit, is likely to come down just as precipitously.

What’s interesting about Oedipus, is at first glance the prophecies within are so abhorrent, who wouldn’t react in horror to the idea of killing one’s father and sleeping with one’s mother? But at second glance, is it not common sense, is it not true for all families that one day the son will surpass the father, one day the father will fall and the son will take the father’s place? Is it not true men will judge their relationships with women against that first relationship with their moms?

The prophecy given to Oedipus and to his birth parents is a sensationalist version of the common sense truth for all families (even to those where the son cannot so literally inherit a father’s throne). And the real-world response to that un-sensational real-world dilemma is: “Hey, one day I’m going to die, and I’m going to try and leave the world(kingdom) in the hands of a good human being” (& “I’m going to teach my son to treat the women he loves with respect” & “I’m going to be good to my father while he’s alive and a really good person when he’s gone”).

You might say I’m unfair in comparing Oedipus to an unchangeable fate (cancer, though for most people, I don’t think killing one’s baby is really an option on the table… but we’ll get back to that). No, my aunt couldn’t change her rapidly-growing tumor, but she could change the way she went out. She took hold of her finances for the first time in her life, she aired her grievances towards her husband (and the frightful in-laws) and her children instead of stewing in them, she tied up her inheritance to provide for her youngest through college, she got the death she wanted (at home and with Buddhist rites), all so she could live her remaining months in peace, and die in peace, instead of continuing to live (practically a lifetime) in sorrow. Is it fair she died so young? Is life fair?

My mom doesn’t know if she’s going to get cancer in 4 years, but she’s you know, de-stressing her life, selling the house, doing things she wants to do, and going in for all her medical tests. No, it’s no magic trick to see one’s future, it’s magic to decide what to do about it. It’s easy to get desperate and anxious to change one’s fate, hey, how else do you think those snake doctors make a living… It’s not always easy to see the difference between trying to ‘master your fate’ and trying to make the best of it/just being proactive/smart.

I say sensationalist, but that’s not really true—you needn’t look far—when there’s a real shortage of women in the world (China and India are the real places of impact, though considering how much of the world population is from those two countries, it is effectively, a world impact) due to selective-gender abortion and female child abandonment (told you I’d get back to it). The ‘making the best world’ response (from parents, and from governments/society) is to educate girls, give them the same chances as boys, give them a world where women can be as useful to their families as men. The ‘master your fate’ response has created increased demand for sex-trafficking (and increased forced marriages and honor killings). Of course people want to escape “fate”, it is so human (and what makes the play so human)—of course, whether you call if “life” or “gods” or “fate”, it isn’t fair, but how much of it is really “fate” and how much is it our (humans) own choices?

And if we think the answer is to try ignorance, how can we try ignorance (no foresight)—people spend their whole lives trying to know, trying to make the world make sense (and we make gods and science to try and make sense of it for us) and it really is for the best psychics are really charlatans, because we got plenty of foresight on our own thanks, we just don’t know what to do with it (can’t ignore it either, see global warming). As the alcoholics/Christians say: "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,/Courage to change the things I can,/And wisdom to know the difference.”

Basically what I’m saying is Sophocles is pretty genius, and Freud is a hack for as usual focusing on the WRONG PART of the text. show less

Michael Sheen (Masters of Sex) did a brilliant job in voicing the title role of Oedipus in what I found to be an 'easier' to understand translation by Duncan Steen for the full cast audio.

I'm glad I've finally read the famous, fabulously sensational story of incest and patricide about the man who kills his father and marries his mother, after encountering Freud's derivative Oedipus Complex in psychology class a decade ago.

Sophocles showcases the limitations of prophecy in stating the destination without providing details of the journey, and therefore a way to avoid the outcome. Had Oedipus's father not been told of the prophecy, would Oedipus have still fulfilled it? Laius would never have ordered his son to be ripped from his mother show more and left to die on a hillside had he not not known of the prophecy; and Oedipus would've grown up knowing his parents whereupon the Westermarck effect would come into play. So, is the Delphic oracle at fault here? Should he take some modicum of responsibility for Oedipus's crimes by putting him on the path to committing them? Every cause has an effect and every effect, a cause.

Coincidence or fate? Again, if Oedipus hadn't been informed of the prophecy he wouldn't have met his real father on that crossroads, but as soon as he did, his fate was sealed.

I liked the symbolism of the action at the three-way crossroads. King Laius and his entourage tried to push Oedipus off the road which resulted in a skirmish to the death. Oedipus prevailed by killing all but one of his attackers who escaped. However, the deaths were reported as a robbery homicide - to save face, perhaps? Obviously the king wasn't well guarded if one man could slay him and all of his men. If Oedipus is right and the king's men instigated the incident, was killing them self-defence? Oedipus is presented as an honest and honorable king who takes great pride in his good character. I doubt he'd lower himself to robbery when outnumbered and afterwards feel no guilt over his 'youthful misdeed' when his latter guilt cripples him.

Free will only applies to the control of one's own actions and the ability to influence that of others'. Oedipus is unable to exert enough control over his life to make informed decisions when he'd been lied to about his identity so it's difficult to blame him for crimes he'd committed unwittingly. Rather than a heinous criminal, Oedipus is painted as a pitiable figure. Self-inflicted punishment is meted out instead of the judgement and execution of societal justice, because no can hurt you more than yourself. Self-condemnation, self-mutilation and self-banishment from his home is punishment enough.

Ignorance and an inability to look beyond the superficial is expressed as a disadvantage of the ability to see, while blindness confers insight into the truth of things with a painfully sharp clarity. Oedipus mocks Tiresias for his blindness, claiming it hinders his ability to see the truth. Tiresias hits back, mocking Oedipus with a statement representing the exact opposite. Yet Oedipus, upon realising the truth of his actions, dashes out his own eyes in anguished horror after witnessing the dead swinging body of his shamed wife and mother, his psychological pain seemingly blotting out the physical.

I completely understand why this is a beloved classic. I'm sure I could get more out of it with each listen or read. I have only one complaint: I didn't really understand the Chorus. On the audio, many people spoke those words in unison and I thought this obscured the pronunciation, however, I did seek out a free ebook edition online to re-read those parts and they still made little sense to me.

*Free audio from Audiobooksync's annual summer event. show less

An oracle tells Oedipus that he will murder his father and marry his mother, so he flees Corinth, vowing never to return, to avoid his fate. King Laius of Thebes is told by an oracle that he will be killed by his son, so he arranges to have his son killed shortly after his birth. You know where this is going, right? The point seems to be that you can't avoid fate. The gods are either controlling human action, or at least omniscient about the future. The Naxos audio production is very good, although I was thrown by the pronunciation of Creon as “crayon”. I kept imagining a box of Crayolas. I think P.D.Q. Bach missed an opportunity when he wrote the lyrics for “Oedipus Tex.”