Homeric Epithets in The Iliad

How do you write gods themselves?

You can tell the reader or the audience that these characters have god like powers and show them using magic, but how does that separate them from other wizards or magicians? They need the weight, the resume, and the authority to tower over men and command attention on the page.

Today I want to go over the “Homeric Epithets” in The Iliad and how I see them as useful tools. We’ll talk about what is an Epithet, why did Homer use them, how they made me feel, how I’d like to use them (and have used them) in my own writing, and where I’ve seen links in books and movies. Maybe you’ll want to use them, too.

So what is a Homeric Epithet? It’s been defined by the Academy of American Poets and Oxford Reference as a recurring formulaic phrase — usually a compound adjective — permanently attached to a character or place and repeated throughout the poem. For example, we often hear Zeus referred to as “Zeus who gathers clouds” and “Zeus son of Kronos.” Apollo is frequently given “lord of the silver bow” and “who strikes from afar.” Ares, “murderous lord of battles.” Achilles the “swift footed” and the hero Odysseus who is so often called “resourceful Odysseus.” There are plenty more, and they all vary a little from translation to translation, but they are everywhere in The Iliad. One of the most intense warriors is Diomedes “the war crier” or “of the great war cry.”

Why did Homer use these? One of the reasons was to help the audience remember these characters while listening to the story. Another is for meter and rhyme flow for the poetic medium. An interesting hypothesis is that these phrases also allowed for a bard to stall for time if he needed to adjust his storytelling in front of a live audience. If things were dragging he could slowly speak an Epithet or two while he figured out which story beats he could cut.

But what drew me to notice these things was just their epic nature. These heavy titles attached to gods and god-like characters struck me with an added weight like a one-two punch. We talked last time about the numerous brutal depictions of violence. They’re raw and unflinching and brutal. When you attach that to these titles it is a real knock out combo.

Diomedes, the war crier, throws his spear so it crashes through a man’s nose and rattles among his teeth as it splits his tongue.

That epithet adds power to that throw. Not only that, every one of these Epithets lend a short hand of history — heavy history — when you hear about these characters. How did Diomedes get his reputation of being the man of “the war cry”? What were the deeds that awarded him this title? How many times had Zeus gathered clouds and what did those clouds bring about for such a specific title to be used so often? We see Apollo strike from afar with his silver bow at the beginning of the story when he rains down plague with arrows of illness from the heights of Olympus. But, what had Apollo done before this story to gain that title? And now, now that we have seen what he can do from afar, we get a little anticipatory anxiety when he’s referred to as “Apollo, lord of the silver bow, who strikes from afar” before the rest of the sentence lands. So these epithets spin up our imagination to wonder where these titles came from and what other deeds and tales earned these characters their epithets.

But, on a granular level, it also contributes to pacing. The longer the sentence builds to an action the heavier it is on the page and the more weight is finally released with the final clause. The words and the pacing make the thrust of the spears of Achilles, the brilliant and swift footed warrior, lurch with power as it cuts through shield and belt and crunches through the groin to his enemy’s bone.

In one of my recent short stories I experimented with titles as a world building device. I wanted a quick way to draw readers in and get them curious about the world I’ve dropped them into while also providing glimpses of texture that hint at a rich culture. I think it was Ira Glass who made the really clear point of getting your audience to ask curious questions to keep them hooked on your story. You don’t want questions that arise from confusion, but curiosity. That leads back to the quote often attributed to Vonnegut about making your character want something in every scene — even if it’s only a glass of water this will make your audience curious if your character will get a drink. They’ll keep reading because they want to know! What other deeds had Odysseus done to make him known as “Resourceful Odysseus”? We know he’s got a big history behind him and we want to figure out what that is.

Names like this are used in one of my favorite book series by Joe Abercrombie known as “The First Law” Trilogy. Highly recommend it. Those guys in the north all have nick-names and you are craving to know how they got them. Not only that, we know they are important in their circles based on the fact that some men get these nick names and others don’t. It’s implied history.

Something we both know is “Snatch” and “Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels.” Bullet Tooth Tony, Boris the Blade, Brick Top, The Pikey. All names that beg for us to learn more.

Switching to Tarantino — Lt. Aldo Rain has got that nasty scar across his throat, why? It is announced visually in every close-up of his even though it’s never spoken. How did Lt. Aldo Rain, survivor of the ruined throat, get his scars? How did Snake Plisken get his eye-patch? What did Han Solo, the smuggler, do to owe Jabba the Hutt so much money? It’s another version of Snyder’s “a limp and an eye patch.” It makes someone memorable and gives them an interest hook that implies a storied past which lends them gravitas.

3:10 to Yuma (Bale and Crowe) plays with this idea when we see Christian Bale has a limp and we know he’s a military veteran. I don’t know the last time you saw it, but I love the reveal behind that story.

So, I think these Homeric Epithets can also be visual motifs or titles, or both. Bullet Tooth Tony giving a big smile would be both.

For your work, Ben — Abe, man of two worlds, mushed the sled dogs and their cargo onward? Graham, the millennial nomad, stands atop a waterfall?

All of this is to quickly establish a heightened authority to any of your characters and put them above and beyond their peers. Going a little long with their description can be the short cut you need. Spend a few words now to save yourself pages later.

It’s another tool for the chest I’m excited to explore more often. This one might be really fun to use in a children’s book! Cheeky Chipmunk, cherished by bluejays, sits atop the stone of the eastern wall and watches for well wishers and wild dangers alike. King Cardinal, carrier of chivalry, swoops southward and slowly approaches Cheeky on his rock.

Wwho knows what sort of epic tales may sprout from the backyard.

Next, I want to look into the idea of the flat arc versus a moment of change. Seeing more facets of a character, more of their depth, does not constitute an arc - in my opinion - and I want to point out the changes we see in Achilles versus an arc.

Thanks again, man, and talk to you next time.