The Iliad’s bracing depiction of war resonates loudly throughout history. It’s no wonder that combat veterans, even today, turn to the epic to gain perspective on their experience in war.

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However, for all its timelessness, the Iliad is a work of literature that was produced in a specific time and place. In its original form, audiences experienced the poem as part of a religious festival. They would have listened to the work sung by a bard who would have accompanied himself with the lyre. If only we could bear witness to (and understand) such a performance!

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While those who can read Greek can at least appreciate the musicality of Homeric verse, many readers must turn to an English translation. Given that there is no shortage of good translations, one might wonder which is the best.

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Caroline Alexander’s version from 2015 offers the best balance of fidelity to the ancient Greek and readability. Her translation pulls off the remarkable feat of surpassing a number of excellent previous translations. With finesse, she updates Homeric Greek to contemporary English while remaining exceedingly faithful to the original text. Her translation could be recommended to Greek scholars and lay readers alike.

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However, there are a number of excellent translations to choose from, each of which has their merits. Here is an overview of five of the most notable translations published over the last century.

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The Iliad of Homer, translated by Richmond Lattimore. 1951. University of Chicago Press: Chicago.

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Lattimore, drawing upon the work of Matthew Arnold, an earlier scholar, writes that Homer is “rapid, plain, and direct in thought and expression” and “plain and direct in substance.” Lattimore aims to reproduce these qualities in his translation, beat for beat. However, he also states that he never rates his own word choice ahead of the word which translates the Greek.

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He translates the first seven lines:

Sing, goddess, the anger of Peleus’ son Achilleus And its devastation, which put pains thousandfold upon the Achaians, Hurled in their multitudes to the house of Hades strong souls Of heroes, but gave their bodies to be the delicate feasting Of dogs, of all birds, and the will of Zeus was accomplished Since that time when first there stood in division of conflict Atreus’ son the lord of men and brilliant Achilleus.

When this translation came out, readers might have thought his lines reflect the rapidity of Homer’s Greek. However, the pace feels slow to a contemporary ear. Lattimore’s six beat lines produce a kind of stately exactitude. Lattimore even attempts to follow the Greek word order. “Of heroes” appears in the exact same place it does in the Greek text, as do both instances of “Achilleus,” a stricter transliteration than the conventional “Achilles.”

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Lattimore’s text is still a good choice for those who want to get as close to the Greek as possible. It is, at times, painstakingly precise. However, it is difficult to get the feel of the Greek in his translation. Moreover, his long lines do not make for easy reading. His translation is best for scholars and those who prioritize fidelity to the Greek before all else.

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Homer: The Iliad, translated by Robert Fagles. 1990. Penguin: New York.

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In his preface, Fagles discusses the impossible task that translators of Homeric poetry face: they are creating an English version of a Greek text originally meant to be heard with musical accompaniment. The translator must balance the tasks of reproducing the musical qualities of Homeric verse with rendering the meaning of the Greek clearly and accurately.

He translates the opening:

Rage – Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus’ son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses, hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls, great fighters’ souls, but made their bodies carrion, feasts for the dogs and birds, and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end. Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed, Agamemnon, lord of men and brilliant Achilles.

It is hard to take issue with any of Fagles’ translations of classical works. He always stays as close to the Greek text as possible while making his version as accessible as possible. It is difficult to find fault with translation, whether from the perspective of accessibility or fidelity. He even takes pains to reproduce the Greek word order when possible (“Rage” is the first word of the poem and “Achilles” is the last word of the opening sentence).

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Simply put, Fagles would be an excellent choice for both Greek students and general readers. He is a runner up to Alexander only because her translation is ever so slightly more readable. However, his translation is a close second place both in terms of accessibility and fidelity.

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Homer: The Iliad, translated by Stanley Lombardo. 2000. Hackett Publishing Company, Inc: Indianapolis.

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In his preface, Lombardo writes that he aims to find and reproduce the “tone, rhythm, and power” of Homer in his translation. He aims not just to produce an English rendering of the Greek, but rather to produce the qualities of Homeric poetry, its “directness, immediacy, and effortless musicality.” Lombardo wrote his translation as a script for his own oral performance of the text. It shows. He claims that reading the text is the work of the scholar, while bringing the work to life is that of the translator and performer. In many ways, he reproduces the feel, if not always the exact meaning, of the Greek text.

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He renders the first seven lines:

Rage: Sing, Goddess, Achilles’ rage, Black and murderous, that cost the Greeks
Incalculable pain, pitched countless souls Of heroes into Hades’ dark,
And left their bodies to rot as feasts For dogs and birds, as Zeus’ will was done. Begin with the clash between Agamemnon – The Greek warlord – and godlike Achilles.

Lombardo’s choice to put “Rage” first reflects the Greek word order (though I cannot explain the use of the colon in this instance). However, “black” is nowhere to be found in the Greek. He also omits reference to Peleus, Achilles’ father. These changes in the opening are minor: however, elsewhere in the text, those wishing for strict adherence to the Greek might feel disappointed. Lombardo captures the many qualities of Homeric Greek, especially its swiftness and directness. However, he feels free to make slight departures from the Greek text throughout his translation.

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Those wanting an accessible translation that reproduces the feel of the Greek text might want to pick it up. Also, those who are concerned with sound, rhythm, and pacing will find few, if any other translations that surpass Lombardo’s. Those more concerned with fidelity to the letter of the Greek ought to turn to Fagles, Lattimore, or Alexander.

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Homer: The Iliad, translated by Stephen Mitchell. 2011. Free Press: New York.

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Stephen Mitchell, who previously translated the Bhagavad Gita, The Book of Job, Gilgamesh, and the Tao Te Ching among other classics, has produced an excellent translation of the Iliad. He presents a bracing, straightforward, and largely very accurate English rendering of the text.

It opens:

The rage of Achilles – sing it now, goddess, sing through me the deadly rage that caused the Achaeans such grief and hurled down to Hades the souls of so many fighters, leaving their naked flesh to be eaten by dogs and carrion birds, as the will of Zeus was accomplished. Begin at the time when bitter words first divided That king of men, Agamemnon, and godlike Achilles.

Mitchell succeeds in creating a lively, direct, and faithful rendering of Homer’s Greek (though he too omits mention of Peleus). He even reproduces the word order of the Greek. One reviewer points out that he even attempts to reproduce some of the sonic effects present in the original text.

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There is one massive caveat, however, to Mitchell’s version: he does not include book 10. He follows Greek text of M. L. West, one of the foremost scholars of Homer, who deems book 10 spurious. The reasons for this are very complicated: while many do not regard Homer as a single individual, but rather the convenient name for an oral tradition, West does consider the Iliad to be the work of a single author who modified the text over time. He aims to reproduce, as best he can, (what he believes to be) the original work by (who he believes to be) the original poet. However, other scholars have critiqued West’s Greek editions of the text as unsystematic and reflective more of his own predilections than those of the ancient author (or authors).

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While even lay readers should know that the Iliad and Odyssey are the products of oral composition, evaluating the merits of West’s new edition are probably beyond them. Most general readers will simply want an English version of the canonical text, regardless of the complex process that produced it. In omitting book 10, Mitchell does not provide them with the canonical poem.

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In spite of the Mitchell’s remarkable skill as a translator, the omission of book 10 will likely make this translation of less value for those approaching the text for the first time or those Greek students whose teachers have not embraced West’s vision of the text. Those who want an English translation of West’s edition should, however, definitely consider purchasing Mitchell’s edition.

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Homer, The Iliad: A New Translation, translated by Caroline Alexander. 2015. Harper Collins:
New York.

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Caroline Alexander deserves credit for surpassing excellent previous translations. She has created a new edition that sounds completely contemporary while remaining faithful to the Greek. Alexander claims to render a “line-by-line translation as far as English grammar allows.” However, she also attempts to capture the “rhythmic flow and pacing,” as well as the “epic energy” of the Greek. She has succeeded admirably.

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She translates the opening:

Wrath – sing, goddess, of the ruinous wrath of Peleus’ son Achilles, that inflicted woes without number upon the Achaeans, hurled forth to Hades many strong souls of warriors
and rendered their bodies prey for the dogs, for all birds, and the will of Zeus was accomplished; sing from when they two first stood in conflict – Atreus’ son, lord of men, and godlike Achilles.

It’s difficult to find fault with Alexander’s translation: on the one hand, her rendering of the Greek is entirely defensible on every front. While perhaps every so slightly less exacting than Lattimore (she alters the word order more than Lattimore does), there isn’t a single choice that could be deemed incorrect or inaccurate.

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What is truly remarkable, however, is just how accessible and direct her translation is. Even while maintaining a line-for-line translation of the Greek, she nonetheless captures the bracing swiftness and directness of Homer’s Greek. Simply put, it’s an easy translation to read.

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Alexander’s translation should be the new standard for both scholars and first-time readers alike.