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A review by meghaha
Alcestis by Euripides
4.0
So, I actually read this twice last night.
Somehow I already had a copy of Alcestis, translated by Diane Svarlien. Usually, before reading a classic, I try to preview the first few pages of various translations and choose the one I like best. But I plunged in ahead with the copy I had due to convenience.
What a mistake. I finished Svarlien's rendering of Alcestis both baffled and disappointed. Was it all going to be a downward spiral from now on with Euripides' works, plays without even a glimmer of the greatness found in his indisputable masterpieces Medea and The Bacchae? Was I even reading Euripides?
I was about to write a review about how unimpressed and unmoved I felt, doubting Euripides, but then I saw quotes from Alcestis that other reviewers had shared below, from versions by Richard Lattimore and Ted Hughes. Were they even quoting from the same play? I went in search of another version with a more powerful, dynamic verse.
Luckily, there's a copy of Alcestis available through openlibrary, translated by William Arrowsmith.
It's the exact same story, but a verse rendered with an eye for its poetry makes all the difference. The play, which had initially left me disconnected and nonplussed, on this second read through, became something special.
Alcestis is a meditation on death. The fear of dying that drives Admetos to cowardice, to proffering Alcestis in his stead. His own parents didn't want to sacrifice their lives for his, and so virtuous Alcestis volunteers. Admetos actually lets her go through with it, all the while sobbing his regret. Only the person who loved you most would die for you; and foolish Admetos, too late, realizes life is not worth living with Alcestis gone. A drunken Heracles, wearing a myrtle crown likely weaved from the funeral flowers, realizes halfway through a night of revelry that the wife of his host is actually dead. Furious at being lied to, he wrestles Death to bring Alcestis back to Admetos. She's veiled at the end, unable to speak, Hercules says, for three days. Her silence is mysterious. Alcestis accepts her into his house even before being sure of her identity, out of his deference to Heracles' wishes. Clothed in her exact same funeral vestments, he somehow fails to recognize her until the veil is lifted.
Much as I didn't like Svarlien's translation, she raises the interesting point that perhaps, since Admetis doesn't recognize her a first, and we can't hear Alcestis' voice, it's not really her. I'm sure Euripides didn't mean to imply a doppelganger, but this doubt ties into the dread that we have that even someone brought back to life will somehow be forever altered, an essential element lost. Death, after all, is final. It doesn't relinquish its grip easily.
The happy ending is a bit of a surprise coming from Euripedes, and this play is classified more as a tragicomedy than a tragedy. But, perhaps it's not a happy ending, after Admetis has revealed his true colors and proved himself to be utterly unworthy of his wife. Alcestis' motivations for taking his place are murky and I'd like to imagine she had reasons of her own for her embrace of death.
Somehow I already had a copy of Alcestis, translated by Diane Svarlien. Usually, before reading a classic, I try to preview the first few pages of various translations and choose the one I like best. But I plunged in ahead with the copy I had due to convenience.
What a mistake. I finished Svarlien's rendering of Alcestis both baffled and disappointed. Was it all going to be a downward spiral from now on with Euripides' works, plays without even a glimmer of the greatness found in his indisputable masterpieces Medea and The Bacchae? Was I even reading Euripides?
I was about to write a review about how unimpressed and unmoved I felt, doubting Euripides, but then I saw quotes from Alcestis that other reviewers had shared below, from versions by Richard Lattimore and Ted Hughes. Were they even quoting from the same play? I went in search of another version with a more powerful, dynamic verse.
Luckily, there's a copy of Alcestis available through openlibrary, translated by William Arrowsmith.
It's the exact same story, but a verse rendered with an eye for its poetry makes all the difference. The play, which had initially left me disconnected and nonplussed, on this second read through, became something special.
Alcestis is a meditation on death. The fear of dying that drives Admetos to cowardice, to proffering Alcestis in his stead. His own parents didn't want to sacrifice their lives for his, and so virtuous Alcestis volunteers. Admetos actually lets her go through with it, all the while sobbing his regret. Only the person who loved you most would die for you; and foolish Admetos, too late, realizes life is not worth living with Alcestis gone. A drunken Heracles, wearing a myrtle crown likely weaved from the funeral flowers, realizes halfway through a night of revelry that the wife of his host is actually dead. Furious at being lied to, he wrestles Death to bring Alcestis back to Admetos. She's veiled at the end, unable to speak, Hercules says, for three days. Her silence is mysterious. Alcestis accepts her into his house even before being sure of her identity, out of his deference to Heracles' wishes. Clothed in her exact same funeral vestments, he somehow fails to recognize her until the veil is lifted.
Much as I didn't like Svarlien's translation, she raises the interesting point that perhaps, since Admetis doesn't recognize her a first, and we can't hear Alcestis' voice, it's not really her. I'm sure Euripides didn't mean to imply a doppelganger, but this doubt ties into the dread that we have that even someone brought back to life will somehow be forever altered, an essential element lost. Death, after all, is final. It doesn't relinquish its grip easily.
The happy ending is a bit of a surprise coming from Euripedes, and this play is classified more as a tragicomedy than a tragedy. But, perhaps it's not a happy ending, after Admetis has revealed his true colors and proved himself to be utterly unworthy of his wife. Alcestis' motivations for taking his place are murky and I'd like to imagine she had reasons of her own for her embrace of death.