Pun-Translatable
What Do We Lose In Translation?
On an unexplored island in the middle of the Mediterranean, the cunning hero Odysseus and his men stumble across a cave. Deep in this cave, they find hoards of cheese and other supplies. They devour as much as they desire, delighted. The men, wary after years of travel and fighting, urge Odysseus to leave. He thinks that is stupid, and decides to wait around so he can receive gifts1. They wait, and suddenly a ginormous, one eyed creature enters the cave with his flock of sheep. The cyclops introduces himself as Polyphemus, eats a couple of Odysseus’ men then asks his name. Odysseus replies: Nobody.
This episode from the Odyssey beyond famous, spreading beyond the poem itself to infiltrate the corners of the popular psyche. Talk to almost anyone about the the goatherd Eumaeus, Aeolus’ many sons and daughters, or many other episodes from the Odyssey and you will be met with a blank, befuddled stare. Well at least in my experience anyway. But the island of the Cyclops? That one has received some very enthusiastic replies. No doubt mostly from the many storybook retellings and the inclusion in Percy Jackson, but nonetheless it sticks with people.
Would you be surprised then, if I told you that this section contains a hidden secret, a little gem buried in the verse from over 2000 years ago? One that has been forgotten in the drifts of time and known only to the sort of people who read the explanatory notes in the back of Penguin Classics books? Well, as one of those readers of the explanatory notes, I believe this gem needs to be publicised, put on full display and cherished. What exactly am I on about? A pun. Well, maybe more than one.
One of the most horrible things about translation is the amount of detail that it can lose. In the original Homeric Greek, Odysseus tells the Cyclops his name is Οὒτις. This is presented as a name. However, it means ‘no-one’, coming from the joining of οὒ (no/none) + τις (the indefinite article, or ‘someone). The common translation then, nobody, makes sense. To keep the play on words in the original language, it is possible in English to do something similar with ‘Norman’ and ‘no-man’. This, while a little clumsy, is quite adequate as far as translations go. Typically if you can preserve a play on words when translating from an ancient to a modern language, that is seen as a win. But, unfortunately, the difficulty comes later.
Jumping forward in the story, Odysseus and his men have blinded the Cyclops with a sharpened stake of wood (ouch). Then, the Cyclops runs outside and shouts to his neighbours, for which I shall fill in our translation to aid the pun. “Help, Norman is attacking me!” And his fellow Cyclopes reply “Well, if No Man is attacking you, then we don’t need to help you!”. It seems our translation of the pun has worked its magic here. But wait, that isn’t quite right. The neighbour Cyclopes do not reply with oὒτις as per earlier, but μήτις. Functionally, this means the same thing (μή also means no/none). But a following pun is lost as a consequence.
The word μήτις may seem familiar to those with a little background knowledge in Greek Mythology. Metis, the goddess of cunning, is spelt almost exactly the same in Ancient Greek. In turn, she gives her name to the art she practices, so cunning is μῆτις. This is almost identical to our alternate spelling of nobody. Odysseus, who is narrating this part, exclaims of his cunning (metis) at this trick, repeating the word the other Cyclopes had just used a couple lines before. Tragically, the joke is lost on us. A small joke then seems to just be a brag in English, and we lose a little bit of character from the poem.
In the grand scheme of translating a massive work such as the Odyssey, this is a minor detail. The works of great translators of Homer are feats of glory, like the heroes they make accessible to thousands. A pun like this cannot work in English, at least not in a way yet discovered. Should we mourn it? The first half of the joke still works, and this is the half that adds to the plot. But still, something is lost. Humour in these massive poems is a scarce and lovely delight, and losing it is a shame. After all, it reminds us of the skill and wit of the Greeks, even amongst a poem of bloodshed, emotion and suffering. This is something that translators often have to face, and why scholars advocate reading things in their original languages. Unfortunately, this is not practical nor conceivable for a majority of people. It is silly and perhaps a little condescending to expect people to devote hours to a very difficult language just to gather small details like this, when incredible translators like Robert Fagles, Emily Wilson, E.V. Rieu, Richard Lattimore and so many others have rendered the poem in beautiful English.
It is a little depressing sometimes studying translation, especially ancient texts. Perhaps I should not be getting so down over a single untranslatable joke, but often it makes me question how much else we have lost. How many little details go unsaid because we cannot find a way to say them. Instead, I will end on a high note. Typically, translators of the Odyssey do not attempt to translate the metis play on words, and only do the nobody part. However, in her excellent and critically acclaimed translation, Emily Wilson does. It is just a small nod, likely even unnoticed by most who were not already in the know, but it is something.
‘And I laughed to myself, at how the name, the “no-man” manoeuvre, tricked him’
Thank you very much for reading this post! This article is to celebrate The Dropout Classicist hitting 50 subscribers on Substack, and there will be a second article coming later this week before I resume weekly posting. I am incredibly grateful. If you are reading this, feel free to leave a like or share this post if you know someone who might enjoy it!
This may seem a questionable motive to us modern readers, but falls under the guest friendship (ξενια) common in epic poetry. However, taking that into account, it is still quite a cocky suggestion, as Odysseus assumes that he is entitled to gifts after stealing cheese from a stranger who lives in a cave. Top tip: do not steal cheese from caves if you also want to receive gifts and not have bunch of your men gruesomely be devoured by a giant.
I've taught this scene so many times to high school children. The next class I read this with will have a little bit extra to pretend to listen to! 😂