Tale or Tradition?
As some of you may know, I am currently in the midst of writing ‘The Road to Ithaca: an Odyssey’.
This is a retelling of Homer’s epics from the perspective of Odysseus, the king of Ithaca, and the three great blunders that led him through life.
This is all well and good, but the subject I wished to discuss today is the concept of mythological fact vs narrative necessity. That is to say, how much of the original story needs to be preserved in a retelling?
It is my belief that there are two main camps of thought among this debate: those who believe that myth, and even history, should be used only as inspiration, and can be bent to suit a narrative need, and those who are boring.
So let’s dive in:
Our first option is to stick to the original story with 100% accuracy. In the example of Odysseus, when taken to the extreme, this would mean that every crew-member, every side character, every plot and scheme be exactly as described by Homer in his works.
While I understand this concept, there are a few problems with it.
The first being the problem of legitimacy.
It sounds silly, but we must ask ourselves what the story actually is. Ancient myths were not like modern novels, they did not have concrete editions and definitions. These stories lived and breathed with ancient civilisations for thousands of years before they reached us, and have changed and grown in that time. For example, the list of soldiers hidden inside the Trojan Horse. In researching for this story I’ve found there are are at least four ‘official’ lists of which greeks were hidden in the horse, each list coming from a different ancient sources. While all agree on some figures, such as Odysseus and Diomedes, what of poor Eurymachus? He is only listed in one of the four sources.
Would someone who claims that the story should be followed 100% accurately include him, or not?
This comes down to the single universal truth that there IS no original myth. There is no one version that we can point to as being ‘the truth’ of what happened. These are stories, and are as transient as we are. They change, they shift, and they are adapted. This is the natural state of stories, to be retold and adopted.
The other great problem I have with this train of thought is that it leaves no room for artistic expression. If I were to retell the Odyssey as written, why should my reader not just… read the Odyssey? It’s a silly question, but it’s true. If I retell a story with no adaptation then I’m just re-writing someone else’s work.
Now, we’ve all seen poor adaptations. We’ve all seen a beloved classic butchered by a big studio with too much money and too little care. I get it. It sucks.
But we have to understand this is not the fault of new ideas or creative license, this is the fault of studios, greed, and money.
Behind every Hollywood cash-grab is a faithful fan who gets to make their dream project, only to be crushed by execs and told exactly how to make their adaptation ripe for market appeal. The commercialisation of unique art will always reduce it, will always leave it a soulless husk, devoid of it’s original charm and meaning.
But, again, this is not the fault of adaptations.
All this leads to the question:
Why re-tell an old story? And, well, I feel that these stories need to be told. There’s something so unique about the greek myths that really speaks to a part of us, and really stays with us. There’s a reason these stories have stayed alive over thousands and thousands of years. They captivate, and we recognise ourselves in them. This is what makes them so appealing for modern adaptation, a modern retelling that will introduce new readers to these ancient stories in a medium they will be more comfortable with.
That is my goal, anyway, as well as diving into the internal struggles of Odysseus in my own story.
That’s it from me today, keep an eye on the blog for future updates. We’ll be releasing new posts every two weeks now instead of one. Feel free to let us know what you think, and subscribe below to our mailing list.
Thanks for reading!
Lachlan
