mentor
harpy
argus
rurban
meld
slimsy
squiggle
weeny
guesstimate
contraption
scissile
conge
nimiety
congeries
cosset
enchiridion
attar
dentulous
cathect
cerebrate
callithump
darkle
esthesia
factotum
nescience
portal-to-portal
risibility
In reply to:odyssey
mentor
...etc.
Just by coincidence I happen to be studying the Odyssey in preparation for a freshman English class this fall.
I must confess: I was not particularly excited about the Odyssey when I was a freshman back in the sixties. I have always enjoyed reality-based works that deal with apparent life more than ones that deal with gods and strange creatures. It's just a matter of taste and how one's mind is set up. Watership Down was an exception--but, then again, one did read about rabbits there, although they spoke.
But--and this is a huge 'but'--this time around the Odyssey, I love the work. It could be the translation I'm reading, an award-winning one, by Robert Fagles, or it could be that I'm finally old enough to ferret out the huge, satisfying chunks of Reality that are ready for mining in the work itself of which I couldn't appreciate for all the mystical material that got in the way for me.
In other words, reality abounds in Fagles' translation.
I've been surprised that Athena took so many forms of mortals in just these first three books I've read out of the twenty-four--even assuming the form of Telemachus himself while rounding up a sailing crew for him. She assumes the form of "Mentor" most often so far, along with the forms of Telemachus, Mentes--and one of an eagle. I'm expecting her to take other forms throughout the rest of the work.
She's consistently referred to as 'bright-eyed,' 'flashing-eyed,' 'her eyes afire,'...and so on in the first three books. In fact, most of the key figures are referred to with adjectives to flesh them out, such as 'red-haired Menelaus.' And I find that way of speaking holds a charm in the tale. Wouldn't it be something if we all referred to each other with adjectivial attributes? Certainly Faldage does when he refers to 'the lovely Anastrophic.' But not too many do so as a matter of course. I do think of 'the great and powerful tsuwm.' But that's about as far as my regular thoughts on the adjective side of ourselves here on AWAD go, for example.
One other thing: There is terrific focus on Telemachus in the first three--and I believe the fourth coming up for my reading this afternoon. Odysseus, although the subject, is pretty much out of the picture in terms of direct action that's going on. The high school editions leave out these first books, and it's a pity since Telemachus' story is one of coming-of-age that I think would be a great draw into the tale at large. It's a pity that the high school lit books--and I have two from which to choose for the course--begin with Odysseus' release from Calypso's island, much, much later in the work.
Oh, well. I'm just thinking out loud...
In reply to:there are many different terms that were used to signify a sexual active woman, including 'she-wolf'; so romus and romulus, were suckled not by an animal, but by a woman who was a what we in english would call a 'suckling nurse'-- who perhaps had a child out of wedlock, and maybe worked in the sex industry.
From Plutarch's Life of Romulus:
Near this place grew a wild fig-tree, which they called Ruminalis, either from Romulus (as it is vulgarly thought), or from ruminating, because cattle did usually in the heat of the day seek cover under it, and there chew the cud; or, better, from the suckling of these children there, for the ancients called the dug or teat of any creature ruma, and there is a tutelar goddess of the rearing of children whom they still call Rumilia, in sacrificing to whom they use no wine, but make libations of milk. While the infants lay here, history tells us, a she- wolf nursed them, and a woodpecker constantly fed and watched them; these creatures are esteemed holy to the god Mars, the woodpecker the Latins still especially worship and honor. Which things, as much as any, gave credit to what the mother of the children said, that their father was the god Mars: though some say that it was a mistake put upon her by Amulius, who himself had come to her dressed up in armor.
Others think that the first rise of this fable came from the children's nurse, through the ambiguity of her name; for the Latins not only called wolves lupae, but also women of loose life; and such an one was the wife of Faustulus, who nurtured these children, Acca Larentia by name. To her the Romans offer sacrifices, and in the month of April the priest of Mars makes libations there; it is called the Larentian Feast.
The Latin dictionary at Perseus says for lupa: she-wolf, prostitute, vile woman, name of a dog. Lupanar is brothel.
Bingley