The Odyssey is both a timeless work of classical literature, and a product of a very distant time and place. Originally, audiences would have listened to the poem performed by a trained singer outdoors at a religious festival. While those who know Greek can at least read the Greek text out loud, most readers today rely on English translations.

There are a variety of excellent translations to choose from, each of which has different trade-offs: while some aim to reproduce the Greek as much as possible, others make an effort to make the text as accessible as possible to English-speakers today. What follows is an assessment of five of the most popular, contemporary translations.

Homer: The Odyssey, translated by Robert Fitzgerald. 1961. Doubleday & Company: New York.

Although it has been widely read, Fitzgerald’s translation might be the worst of all worlds. There are inevitable tradeoffs when translating any text: to what degree does one remain faithful to the original? To what degree should one sacrifice fidelity to the original in order to make the text accessible to a new audience?

From the very first lines, Fitzgerald departs from the original text, but not necessarily in a way that makes it more appealing or easier to read. He renders the first 5 lines of Greek:

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that man skilled in all ways of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on end, after he plundered the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy. He saw the townlands and learned the minds of many distant men, and weathered many bitter nights and days in his deep heart at sea while he fought only to save his life, to bring his shipmates home.

The fact that Homer’s five lines takes ten in Fitzgerald’s translation really says it all. Fitzgerald over-translates. Homer writes in the Greek “Sing to me, Muse,” not “Sing in me”: it would seem that Fitzgerald is attempting to teach the reader, while he is translating the Greek, that, according to Greek culture, the Muses sang through the poets. Likewise, he translates the Greek word meaning “town” or “city” as “townlands,” presumably to suggest that the surrounding fields were part of the city. He translates the purposefully ambiguous Greek word polytropos meaning “well-travelled,” “turned about,” or “clever” as “skilled in all ways of contending,” a both wordy and inaccurate rendering (“the wanderer” is more apt).

Throughout the text, Fitzgerald explains as he translates, but not necessarily in a way that is faithful to the text or easy to read.

There are relatively few reasons to recommend Fitzgerald’s translation today. Those who appreciate the epic grandeur of his word choice and don’t mind his supplementation of the Greek ought to consider this translation. Those craving a relatively easy reading experience as well as those looking for close fidelity to the ancient Greek ought to look elsewhere.

The Odyssey of Homer, translated by Richmond Lattimore. 1967. Harper & Row: New York.

Richmond Lattimore’s translation was among the most widely read for much of the 20 th century. And for good reason. Even at over 50 years, his translation holds up well. A new edition was published in 2007.

He translates the first five lines:

Tell me, Muse, of the man of many ways, who was driven far journeys, after he had sacked Troy’s sacred citadel. Many were they whose cities he saw, whose minds he learned of, Many the pains he suffered in his spirit on the wide sea, Struggling for his own life and the homecoming of his companions.

Lattimore’s rendering is faithful to a fault. He retains not only the meaning of the Greek, but also as much of the word-order, pacing, and rhythm as possible. He goes so far as to attempt to retain even some of Homer’s sonic effects in other passages. For the five lines of Greek, Lattimore writes five of English. Lattimore attempts to stick as closely to the original text as possible.

However, this very fidelity to the Greek can be offputting to some readers. For example, you might notice the pausing character of his phrasing even in the few lines above. Run-on, complex sentences are common: when skimming through his text, I came across a single sentence containing the word “and” six times, the word “but” four times, and two semicolons.

Lattimore’s translation sometimes demands an extra level of concentration from the reader, and even with that extra level of concentration, those without Greek are likely to feel puzzled by his phrasing from time to time. Particularly given how old this translation is, readers might find themselves rereading sections in order to ensure that they comprehend the basic meaning of sentences.

For those resistant to reading Homer, this translation might not serve as the best introduction. Many perceive The Odyssey to be a difficult, remote, dense text. Lattimore’s translation does little to change this preconception. However, for students who know Greek and want a faithful translation, or for readers who are concerned with fidelity to the Greek above all else, Lattimore’s translation is an excellent choice.

The Odyssey By Homer, translated by Robert Fagles. 1996. Penguin Random House: New York.

Fagles’ Odyssey received excellent reviews from both literary critics and scholars. It remains a popular choice among teachers, readers, and scholars over two decades after its publication.

Fagles translates the first five lines:

Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns…
driven time and again off course, once he had plundered
the hallowed heights of Troy.
Many cities of men he saw and learned their minds,
many pains he suffered, heartsick on the open sea,
fighting to save his life and bring his comrades home.

Fagles translation is hardly less accurate than Lattimore’s. Note, however, that he translates five lines of the Greek over six lines of English: while Fagles’ translation maintains a similar fidelity to the original as Lattimore’s, he’s less concerned with matching Homer at the level of form. The pausing character of Lattimore’s translation is absent: Fagles’ translation is easier to read and more straightforward. He also splits this sentence into two: this choice hardly affects the meaning of the passage, but it does make it easier to read.

At the same time, one should not overstate the readability of Fagles’ translation. Although his version is more idiomatic than Lattimore or Fitgerald’s, it still feels very much like an English translation of a Greek text. It lacks the smooth readability of more recent translations.

This translation is excellent for those who need to occasionally check their Greek against an English translation and those who want a very faithful, yet still reasonably accessible, translation.

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

Stanley Lombardo’s translation is a lively and direct rendering of the text. While Fagles stays true to Homer’s meaning, Lombardo captures his form. He aims to produce a work of poetry that stands on its own, not just a translation of a Greek text. He writes in his preface that he designed his translation to be a script for vocal performance.

He renders the first five lines:

Speak, Memory – Of the cunning hero,
The wanderer, blown off course time and again
After he plundered Troy’s sacred heights. Speak
Of all the cities he saw, the minds he grasped,
The suffering deep in his heart at sea
As he struggled to survive and bring his men home…

Lombardo leans towards fidelity to the formal style of Homer more than the nitty-gritty specifics of the Greek: he captures the rapidity and urgency of Homer’s pacing. Lombardo takes some license: one could argue that his change of “Muse” to “Memory” distorts the meaning of the Greek, for example. There’s a plainspoken, directness to Lombardo’s translation that feels refreshing compared to earlier translations. It is easier to read than those of his predecessors.

One might think of Lombardo’s translation as a slightly loose adaptation, one that aims to preserve the feeling of Homer. Unlike the translations of Fitzgerald, Lattimore, or Fagles, one doesn’t feel like one is reading a stilted, English, word-for-word rendering of a Greek text. That said, those who want a version that hews closely to the original Greek may feel disappointed by Lombardo’s occasional minor departures.

Homer: The Odyssey, translated by Emily Wilson. 2018. W. W. Norton & Company: New York.

Emily Wilson released her translation of The Odyssey in 2018 to much fanfare. She is the first woman to have her translation of The Odyssey published (though Caroline Alexander published her translation of The Iliad in 2015 to much less publicity). Although Penelope is a model of Greek feminine virtue, The Odyssey is filled with stories of complex women who deviate from the sexist codes of Greek society and the affairs of a philandering man as he journeys home to reassert his patriarchal authority. Wilson’s identity as a woman informs her translation, at times leading to a more accurate text.

She renders the first five lines:

Tell me about a complicated man.
Muse, tell me how he wandered and was lost
when he had wrecked the holy town of Troy,
and where he went, and who he met, the pain
he suffered in the storms at sea, and how
he worked to save his life and bring his men
back home.

The virtues of Wilson’s translation are evident: this is arguably the easiest translation of the Odyssey to read. She breaks up the sentence into two. Her style is considerably more pared-down than Lattimore or Fagles’. She is even more direct than Lombardo.

However, in the first line, she mistranslates the Greek word polytropos, meaning “cunning,” “turned about,” or “well-travelled,” as “complicated.” This is not only inaccurate: it also imports a modern, negative judgment of Odysseus’s philandering into the text. She leaves out the phrase that denotes Odyesseus’s curiosity about the mentality and cultures of foreign peoples as well.

Unfortunately, these inaccuracies are common in her version. While cultural critics have given her translation overwhelmingly favorable reviews, scholars have not. There are a number of jarring anachronisms in her translation, some of which, one scholar argues, reflect racial bias.

That said, Wilson’s version nonetheless serves as a much-needed corrective to those by men whose sympathies and biases negatively affect their translations. Most importantly, Wilson does not shy away from calling the enslaved women of Odysseus’s household “slaves,” while earlier male translators use misleading euphemisms like “maid,” “housekeeper,” etc. This is a significant improvement and will have a serious impact on the reader’s understanding of the story.

It is perhaps best to view Emily Wilson’s translation as an interpretation of The Odyssey, one that follows the text very closely (and in a number of important ways more closely than her predecessors do), but also freely deviates from the original Greek. If you were to use it to check your comprehension of the Greek, you might find yourself in trouble. If you have a friend who has resisted reading The Odyssey, however, this might be best recommendation for them.

Recommendation: Fagles

No translation of any text is perfect. Each of the five above have their drawbacks. Different texts speak to different readers. And that’s okay!

While Lattimore might best suit those who know Greek already and while Lombardo (my personal favorite) or Wilson’s translations might be best for the novice, Fagles achieves the best balance of accuracy and readability. If you want a version that sticks closely to the Greek, but not so closely as to feel distant or cumbersomely difficult to read, Fagles is probably the best option.