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Epic of Gilgamesh : The Babylonian Epic and Other Texts in Akkadian and Sumerian
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September 9, 2025It's hard to give a star rating to something like this. How does one assign a 1-5 value to something written before we even had the concept of literature.
Though I didn't find it gripping in the way I do many dramatic stories, it was certainly interesting. An incredible snapshot of a time in history and the way stories were once told. It's also a reminder that though humanity has come far, we're dealing with the same themes as we always have.
Though I didn't find it gripping in the way I do many dramatic stories, it was certainly interesting. An incredible snapshot of a time in history and the way stories were once told. It's also a reminder that though humanity has come far, we're dealing with the same themes as we always have.
October 27, 2025
I read a review that said how can you really rate this when it was written before a concept of literature existed, and it makes sense. However, for possibly being the first book ever, it was pretty decent.
Katabasis prep #1
Katabasis prep #1
October 4, 2025
The Epic of Gilgamesh is one of the oldest stories in the world.
It was written in Mesopotamia more than 4000 years ago on clay tablets. The story is about King Gilgamesh of Uruk and his adventures with his friend Enkidu. They fight monsters, meet the gods, and search for immortality. In the end, Gilgamesh learns important lessons about life and death.
The messages the Epic of Gilgamesh gives me:
For me, the Epic of Gilgamesh says that real immortality is not living forever but leaving good things behind. Friendship makes people better and gives life meaning. Power must come with responsibility because what we do affects others. If we harm nature, we also harm ourselves. So, the purpose of life is not to escape death but to be remembered with love, kindness, and the works we create.
I scored 20 out of 15.91 on the second course exam and directly moved on to the third course.😉🙏🎉
It was written in Mesopotamia more than 4000 years ago on clay tablets. The story is about King Gilgamesh of Uruk and his adventures with his friend Enkidu. They fight monsters, meet the gods, and search for immortality. In the end, Gilgamesh learns important lessons about life and death.
The messages the Epic of Gilgamesh gives me:
For me, the Epic of Gilgamesh says that real immortality is not living forever but leaving good things behind. Friendship makes people better and gives life meaning. Power must come with responsibility because what we do affects others. If we harm nature, we also harm ourselves. So, the purpose of life is not to escape death but to be remembered with love, kindness, and the works we create.
I scored 20 out of 15.91 on the second course exam and directly moved on to the third course.😉🙏🎉
February 15, 2026
A dip into myth that proved rewarding.
The Epic of Gilgamesh is an ancient text predating Greek epics, featuring a classic demigod hero archetype. Gilgamesh starts as quite a tyrant to the people of Uruk but the Babylonian Gods settle him into a worthy king eventually. Of course, this takes a few reckless adventures, a few brushes with death to achieve. The cuneiform tablets academics have salvaged and deciphered over the years share just a few of these tales, but I can plot a clear trajectory that shows Gilgamesh to be a faulted but redeemable protagonist.
Mind you my favourite character has to be Inkidu, another God-forged being built to rival Gilgamesh in strength. While Gilgamesh seems to begin in a position of privilege, Inkidu is raised by the beasts of the wilderness and has to be coaxed to Uruk via a trapper and a prostitute. Once he arrives, the big men have a dust up where Gilgamesh comes out on top and Inkidu agrees to become his constant companion. I shan't spoil the rest of their relationship but suffice to say it is weighted in Gilgamesh's favour. Rather unfair if you ask me but compelling all the same.
George's translation is a wonderful entry point for both the Akkadian and Sumerian versions of the epic. He shares a clean transcription that doesn't fill every gap and manages to keep to the quatrain metre of a culturally relevant epic style. It's repetitive and my eye glazed over whole pages though that is more due to ancient storytelling practice than George's interpretation.
In any case I feel like I came away from reading this book with a decent grasp of the plot and characters, which is more than I expected. What's more, I have even developed a soft spot for one of the supporting characters. A marvellous thing when you consider he was created over 4000 years ago.
In short, I am pleased to have taken time to read such a classic. I recommend The Epic of Gilgamesh (Andrew George translation) to those who prefer their hero's journeys to be redemptive as well as daring.
The Epic of Gilgamesh is an ancient text predating Greek epics, featuring a classic demigod hero archetype. Gilgamesh starts as quite a tyrant to the people of Uruk but the Babylonian Gods settle him into a worthy king eventually. Of course, this takes a few reckless adventures, a few brushes with death to achieve. The cuneiform tablets academics have salvaged and deciphered over the years share just a few of these tales, but I can plot a clear trajectory that shows Gilgamesh to be a faulted but redeemable protagonist.
Mind you my favourite character has to be Inkidu, another God-forged being built to rival Gilgamesh in strength. While Gilgamesh seems to begin in a position of privilege, Inkidu is raised by the beasts of the wilderness and has to be coaxed to Uruk via a trapper and a prostitute. Once he arrives, the big men have a dust up where Gilgamesh comes out on top and Inkidu agrees to become his constant companion. I shan't spoil the rest of their relationship but suffice to say it is weighted in Gilgamesh's favour. Rather unfair if you ask me but compelling all the same.
George's translation is a wonderful entry point for both the Akkadian and Sumerian versions of the epic. He shares a clean transcription that doesn't fill every gap and manages to keep to the quatrain metre of a culturally relevant epic style. It's repetitive and my eye glazed over whole pages though that is more due to ancient storytelling practice than George's interpretation.
In any case I feel like I came away from reading this book with a decent grasp of the plot and characters, which is more than I expected. What's more, I have even developed a soft spot for one of the supporting characters. A marvellous thing when you consider he was created over 4000 years ago.
In short, I am pleased to have taken time to read such a classic. I recommend The Epic of Gilgamesh (Andrew George translation) to those who prefer their hero's journeys to be redemptive as well as daring.
Read
January 19, 2026As another reviewer noted - “not gripping” and yet still powerful in its essence. Four thousand years later - just like Gilgamesh- humanity is still grappling with what it means to live in harmony with others, the power of friendship (vs isolation), how to deal with grief, what makes a life well lived and so on.
Book #1 in Kenneth C Davis’s book The World in Books: A Year of Reading—Wisely (which will take me YEARS to finish ;)
Book #1 in Kenneth C Davis’s book The World in Books: A Year of Reading—Wisely (which will take me YEARS to finish ;)
January 27, 2025
this has a lot of drama for a story written thousands of years ago
June 1, 2026
Synopsis: British Assyriologist Andrew George’s exquisite translation/annotation of the human species’ oldest recorded literary work first emerging in a collection of fragmentary Sumerian tales centered in the ancient city of Uruk c. 2100 BCE, then synthesized into the 12-tablet “Standard Babylonian” version traditionally attributed to Akkadian scholar-editor Sîn-lēqi-unninni c. 1100 BCE, and not rediscovered until excavations of the Library of Ashurbanipal near Nineveh, Iraq in the late 19th century.
Summary: As humanity establishes the first civilization on the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates in southern Mesopotamia, Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, is introduced as powerful, semi-divine, but a deeply tyrannical and exploitative ruler. The people of Uruk complain to the gods, who in turn create Enkidu, a solitary wild man representing humanity’s then recent hunter-gather past, to re-balance him. Through physical and social intimacy, food, drink, technology, and scheduled work on the outskirts of civilization, Enkidu is slowly civilized (“weakened” in his terms) by Uruk’s temple prostitute Shamhat and local shepherds before traveling to Uruk to confront Gilgamesh for his abuses. The two men engage in struggle, Gilgamesh remains dominant, but the designs of the gods are already complete: the two become close companions based on mutual respect rather than rivals, Enkidu providing a natural counterweight to Gilgamesh’s semi-divine power.
Now experiencing authentic fraternity, Gilgamesh proposes to Enkidu a heroic expedition to the Cedar Forest in the distant west, associated with the great cedar lands of the Levant, to kill its terrifying guardian Humbaba. Enkidu initially fears the mission, already knowing Humbaba’s power, but Gilgamesh urges him toward glory, leading them both up the dream-saturated Euphrates, navigating nightly anxiety and morning interpretation with every sleep. Humbaba is eventually confronted by the two and (with the help of the sun god Shamash) defeated. Humbaba pleads for his life and offers submission, and Gilgamesh briefly considers mercy; but Enkidu, sensing both his danger and the fame that civilized society attributes to great deeds, urges Gilgamesh to kill the guardian instead. The King of Uruk complies with his friend’s request, and they cut down a giant cedar to construct the door for the temple of Enlil before they return home down the Euphrates.
Back in Uruk, they encounter an even more power enemy than Humbaba: Women. The goddess Ishtar desires Gilgamesh, but he rejects her, listing the ruined lovers she has abandoned. Insulted, Ishtar demands that her father Anu release the Bull of Heaven against Uruk. Gilgamesh and Enkidu engage and kill the Bull, as they did Humbaba before him, but this time Enkidu’s blunder is fatal—he insults the goddess Ishtar afterward. This victory (and this insult) pushes the heroes beyond acceptable limits and provokes the gods’ judgment. They decide that one of the two heroes must die. Enkidu is chosen, and he curses the people and events that civilized him, until Shamash reminds him that civilization gave him friendship and honor. Enkidu dreams of the underworld and then, falling ill, passes away.
The death of his friend Enkidu is a foe that even the mighty Gilgamesh cannot defeat, and his anguished laments echo through the city calling on all of creation—landscapes, animals, elders, and people—to mourn his only true friend. Terrified by Enkidu’s death and by the realization that he too must die one day, Gilgamesh leaves Uruk behind and wanders into the wilderness, seeking out Uta-napishti, the survivor of the great Flood who, it is said, was granted immortality. He travels as far as the mountains of Mashu, guarded by scorpion-beings, and through a tunnel of darkness to the very edge of the world. There, at its shores, Gilgamesh meets Siduri, a tavern-keeper, who urges him to accept ordinary human joys rather than chase immortality. Still determined, he finds Urshanabi, Uta-napishti’s boatman, but after damaging stone charms needed for the crossing the final deep, Gilgamesh must cut poles to traverse the deadly waters himself, Siduri and Urshanabi contrasting human wisdom—acceptance, pleasure, limits—with Gilgamesh’s refusal to accept death.
At long last Gilgamesh meets Uta-napishti, who tells how he survived the great Flood after being warned by the god of wisdom Ea to build a boat. Afterwards, he and his wife were granted immortality—but as a unique divine exception, not as a model for Gilgamesh to repeat. Gilgamesh then fails Uta-napishti test to stay awake, showing how in his mortal state he cannot conquer even sleep, death’s lesser image. He even gets his hands on a plant that will rejuvenate his youth as a consolation, a temporary respite from his own mortality, but while bathing a serpent steals it. Now realizing the futility of his journey, Gilgamesh returns to Uruk still mortal, but now wiser and more fully human, realizing that only the walls of Uruk in Southern Iraq (still standing to this very day)—and the stories told and impressed into clay therein—are the mortal endurance available to human beings.
Review: As a translated work, the poetry of George’s Gilgamesh is at once both earthy and elegant—the sensual language of a peasant society similar to the tonality of some sequences the Hebrew Bible (a work that shares many of the same motifs), juxtaposed with the intelligence of a work clearly trying to communicate deep, moral abstracts (i.e. the social and psychological implications of mortality itself). Its audience at the time of both its Sumerian emergence and final Babylonian synthesis was likely mixed: scribal, courtly, temple, and educated listeners or readers, since Mesopotamian stories circulated both orally and in written tablet traditions and were copied in libraries across the ancient Near East. Within the larger context of Mesopotamian literature, Gilgamesh stands beside the familiar themes of creation, flood, underworld, and divine-conflict myths, but it is unique in its centering on human kingship, friendship, fame, grief, and death.
Culturally, Gilgamesh mattered then as a prestigious Akkadian classic known beyond Babylonia and Assyria, and it matters now as the world’s oldest known epic, predating Homer and continuing to speak to readers about the human experience. At the dawn of the written word, Gilgamesh shows us our human ancestor were already asking the questions of questions, those still asked by us 4,000 years hence: What is a human life worth if it ends? Why do humans need friendship? Why must the fixed fate of man pass through the liminal space of women? Can worldly fame substitute for immortality? Why do we suffer grief? Can humans become immortal? If death is inevitable, how should one live? The poem’s answers to these questions is neither denial nor despair, but shows how the ancients harvested literature from their letters the same as they did grain from wheat: humans cannot escape death, but they can become wiser, love deeper, build and rule more justly, remember the dead, and leave works behind about all of the above that are worthy of being read.
Summary: As humanity establishes the first civilization on the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates in southern Mesopotamia, Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, is introduced as powerful, semi-divine, but a deeply tyrannical and exploitative ruler. The people of Uruk complain to the gods, who in turn create Enkidu, a solitary wild man representing humanity’s then recent hunter-gather past, to re-balance him. Through physical and social intimacy, food, drink, technology, and scheduled work on the outskirts of civilization, Enkidu is slowly civilized (“weakened” in his terms) by Uruk’s temple prostitute Shamhat and local shepherds before traveling to Uruk to confront Gilgamesh for his abuses. The two men engage in struggle, Gilgamesh remains dominant, but the designs of the gods are already complete: the two become close companions based on mutual respect rather than rivals, Enkidu providing a natural counterweight to Gilgamesh’s semi-divine power.
Now experiencing authentic fraternity, Gilgamesh proposes to Enkidu a heroic expedition to the Cedar Forest in the distant west, associated with the great cedar lands of the Levant, to kill its terrifying guardian Humbaba. Enkidu initially fears the mission, already knowing Humbaba’s power, but Gilgamesh urges him toward glory, leading them both up the dream-saturated Euphrates, navigating nightly anxiety and morning interpretation with every sleep. Humbaba is eventually confronted by the two and (with the help of the sun god Shamash) defeated. Humbaba pleads for his life and offers submission, and Gilgamesh briefly considers mercy; but Enkidu, sensing both his danger and the fame that civilized society attributes to great deeds, urges Gilgamesh to kill the guardian instead. The King of Uruk complies with his friend’s request, and they cut down a giant cedar to construct the door for the temple of Enlil before they return home down the Euphrates.
Back in Uruk, they encounter an even more power enemy than Humbaba: Women. The goddess Ishtar desires Gilgamesh, but he rejects her, listing the ruined lovers she has abandoned. Insulted, Ishtar demands that her father Anu release the Bull of Heaven against Uruk. Gilgamesh and Enkidu engage and kill the Bull, as they did Humbaba before him, but this time Enkidu’s blunder is fatal—he insults the goddess Ishtar afterward. This victory (and this insult) pushes the heroes beyond acceptable limits and provokes the gods’ judgment. They decide that one of the two heroes must die. Enkidu is chosen, and he curses the people and events that civilized him, until Shamash reminds him that civilization gave him friendship and honor. Enkidu dreams of the underworld and then, falling ill, passes away.
The death of his friend Enkidu is a foe that even the mighty Gilgamesh cannot defeat, and his anguished laments echo through the city calling on all of creation—landscapes, animals, elders, and people—to mourn his only true friend. Terrified by Enkidu’s death and by the realization that he too must die one day, Gilgamesh leaves Uruk behind and wanders into the wilderness, seeking out Uta-napishti, the survivor of the great Flood who, it is said, was granted immortality. He travels as far as the mountains of Mashu, guarded by scorpion-beings, and through a tunnel of darkness to the very edge of the world. There, at its shores, Gilgamesh meets Siduri, a tavern-keeper, who urges him to accept ordinary human joys rather than chase immortality. Still determined, he finds Urshanabi, Uta-napishti’s boatman, but after damaging stone charms needed for the crossing the final deep, Gilgamesh must cut poles to traverse the deadly waters himself, Siduri and Urshanabi contrasting human wisdom—acceptance, pleasure, limits—with Gilgamesh’s refusal to accept death.
At long last Gilgamesh meets Uta-napishti, who tells how he survived the great Flood after being warned by the god of wisdom Ea to build a boat. Afterwards, he and his wife were granted immortality—but as a unique divine exception, not as a model for Gilgamesh to repeat. Gilgamesh then fails Uta-napishti test to stay awake, showing how in his mortal state he cannot conquer even sleep, death’s lesser image. He even gets his hands on a plant that will rejuvenate his youth as a consolation, a temporary respite from his own mortality, but while bathing a serpent steals it. Now realizing the futility of his journey, Gilgamesh returns to Uruk still mortal, but now wiser and more fully human, realizing that only the walls of Uruk in Southern Iraq (still standing to this very day)—and the stories told and impressed into clay therein—are the mortal endurance available to human beings.
Review: As a translated work, the poetry of George’s Gilgamesh is at once both earthy and elegant—the sensual language of a peasant society similar to the tonality of some sequences the Hebrew Bible (a work that shares many of the same motifs), juxtaposed with the intelligence of a work clearly trying to communicate deep, moral abstracts (i.e. the social and psychological implications of mortality itself). Its audience at the time of both its Sumerian emergence and final Babylonian synthesis was likely mixed: scribal, courtly, temple, and educated listeners or readers, since Mesopotamian stories circulated both orally and in written tablet traditions and were copied in libraries across the ancient Near East. Within the larger context of Mesopotamian literature, Gilgamesh stands beside the familiar themes of creation, flood, underworld, and divine-conflict myths, but it is unique in its centering on human kingship, friendship, fame, grief, and death.
Culturally, Gilgamesh mattered then as a prestigious Akkadian classic known beyond Babylonia and Assyria, and it matters now as the world’s oldest known epic, predating Homer and continuing to speak to readers about the human experience. At the dawn of the written word, Gilgamesh shows us our human ancestor were already asking the questions of questions, those still asked by us 4,000 years hence: What is a human life worth if it ends? Why do humans need friendship? Why must the fixed fate of man pass through the liminal space of women? Can worldly fame substitute for immortality? Why do we suffer grief? Can humans become immortal? If death is inevitable, how should one live? The poem’s answers to these questions is neither denial nor despair, but shows how the ancients harvested literature from their letters the same as they did grain from wheat: humans cannot escape death, but they can become wiser, love deeper, build and rule more justly, remember the dead, and leave works behind about all of the above that are worthy of being read.
October 14, 2025
Books are mirrors of a time. This was the first ever for humans. The world’s first ever novel, if I may.
How would you feel holding the world’s oldest surviving work of literature that predates the Iliad, Odyssey, Bible, the Gita and even the Vedas? One, that was written on 12 cuneiform tablets, and took decades-long, backbreaking work to dig out – sometimes one paragraph at a time on a broken piece of tablet, not even a chapter!
When I did, I was thrilled to hold a copy of the Andrew George translation of The Epic of Gilgamesh published by Penguin. Anonymously authored by several Sumerian and Akkadian poets, and believed to be finally complete around 2100–1200 BCE, Gilgamesh is also the very first philosophical text that asks the human question – “How can a man live knowing he must die?”
Just in case you didn't, know that, The Epic of Gilgamesh is also widely acclaimed as human civilization’s first ever literary expression of friendship, grief, heroism, hubris, and self-awareness. Yes, Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse (for its spiritual introspection); Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey; and Beowulf (for its blend of myth and mortality), are the few works that you may instantly recollect, but for it’s sheer originality, The Epic of Gilgamesh is a masterclass in storytelling of the philosophical kind.
Since most of us would have likely never read The Epic of Gilgamesh , here’s a quick no-spoilers lowdown of the story. Set in Mesopotamia (ancient Iraq), The Epic of Gilgamesh follows the adventures of Gilgamesh, the semi-divine King of Uruk — arrogant, beautiful, restless - and his wild counterpart Enkidu, a man of nature created by the gods to humble him. Their friendship transforms both men, until Enkidu’s death drives Gilgamesh into an obsessive quest for immortality. In the end, he learns that human greatness lies not in eternal life, but in legacy, civilization, and the shared search for meaning.
Now go, start collecting all the classics and those great stories you may have read all these years. And then tell me if The Epic of Gilgamesh isn’t the blueprint for every story about mortality ever told since!
The quest for meaning. Civilization versus wilderness, and the acceptance of human limits. Mortality. Friendship. The Epic of Gilgamesh is a world of gods, kings, monsters, and floods. It’s mythic, yes, yet deeply human reflecting how early civilization morphed from the natural to the urban, from instinct to intellect.
There’s Gilgamesh, the two-thirds god, one-third man, entirely brilliant, but vain and restless too, and, ultimately, wise. There’s Enkidu, his equal and opposite, the wild man of the steppe, innocent yet fierce, the conscience Gilgamesh didn’t know he needed. Then you have Shamhat, the temple woman who “civilizes” Enkidu, embodying the bridge between nature and culture. And the tongue-twisty Utnapishtim, the survivor of a great flood (call him Noah’s precursor, if you may), and who holds the secret to immortality. You can’t miss Siduri, the wise alewife who, I think delivers one of literature’s earliest carpe diem speeches.
Stylistically, The Epic of Gilgamesh is told in verse, and is astonishingly sophisticated - moving from adventure myth of slaying monsters, to existential reflection facing mortality. I’m told, litterateurs (I’m not one) feel its poetic repetitions and rhythm mirror oral storytelling - cyclical, incantatory and eternal. I do, however realize that The Epic of Gilgamesh is mythology with emotional realism – an impossible-looking feat for 2000 BCE. The first half of the epic stories Gilgamesh and Enkidu’s heroic exploits, like slaying Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven. The second half details Gilgamesh’s spiritual crisis and futile search for eternal life. The Epic of Gilgamesh has a marvelously contemporary structure mirroring life’s arc: glory to grief to growth .
Philosophically, The Epic of Gilgamesh is proto-existentialist, proto-humanist, decidedly the earliest recorded confrontation with the absurd: humanity’s yearning for permanence in a transient world. For the first time ever, death-scared humans are told that immortality is not divine, but cultural. You find it in what we build, create, and love. Sounds familiar? Camus and Saramago would nod in approval.
Indeed. Mortality gives life its urgency and beauty. Civilization is humanity’s defiance of death. Friendship is the bridge between arrogance and empathy. And the real “epic” is self-awareness, not conquest.
The Epic of Gilgamesh evokes at once, awe, melancholy, admiration, and a weird, humbling intimacy — you’re reading the first time a human ever worried like you do. It valiantly and confidently addresses moral and ethical dilemmas: is the pursuit of immortality noble or vain? What defines greatness: conquest or compassion? Can civilization exist without the wild — or the wild without civilization? How do we live knowing death is inevitable?
And after all of Gilgamesh’s pursuits, we learn that mortality is the price of consciousness; friendship humanizes power; legacy, not eternity is humanity’s answer to death.
And, the oldest story ever told is still our story.
How would you feel holding the world’s oldest surviving work of literature that predates the Iliad, Odyssey, Bible, the Gita and even the Vedas? One, that was written on 12 cuneiform tablets, and took decades-long, backbreaking work to dig out – sometimes one paragraph at a time on a broken piece of tablet, not even a chapter!
When I did, I was thrilled to hold a copy of the Andrew George translation of The Epic of Gilgamesh published by Penguin. Anonymously authored by several Sumerian and Akkadian poets, and believed to be finally complete around 2100–1200 BCE, Gilgamesh is also the very first philosophical text that asks the human question – “How can a man live knowing he must die?”
Just in case you didn't, know that, The Epic of Gilgamesh is also widely acclaimed as human civilization’s first ever literary expression of friendship, grief, heroism, hubris, and self-awareness. Yes, Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse (for its spiritual introspection); Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey; and Beowulf (for its blend of myth and mortality), are the few works that you may instantly recollect, but for it’s sheer originality, The Epic of Gilgamesh is a masterclass in storytelling of the philosophical kind.
Since most of us would have likely never read The Epic of Gilgamesh , here’s a quick no-spoilers lowdown of the story. Set in Mesopotamia (ancient Iraq), The Epic of Gilgamesh follows the adventures of Gilgamesh, the semi-divine King of Uruk — arrogant, beautiful, restless - and his wild counterpart Enkidu, a man of nature created by the gods to humble him. Their friendship transforms both men, until Enkidu’s death drives Gilgamesh into an obsessive quest for immortality. In the end, he learns that human greatness lies not in eternal life, but in legacy, civilization, and the shared search for meaning.
Now go, start collecting all the classics and those great stories you may have read all these years. And then tell me if The Epic of Gilgamesh isn’t the blueprint for every story about mortality ever told since!
The quest for meaning. Civilization versus wilderness, and the acceptance of human limits. Mortality. Friendship. The Epic of Gilgamesh is a world of gods, kings, monsters, and floods. It’s mythic, yes, yet deeply human reflecting how early civilization morphed from the natural to the urban, from instinct to intellect.
There’s Gilgamesh, the two-thirds god, one-third man, entirely brilliant, but vain and restless too, and, ultimately, wise. There’s Enkidu, his equal and opposite, the wild man of the steppe, innocent yet fierce, the conscience Gilgamesh didn’t know he needed. Then you have Shamhat, the temple woman who “civilizes” Enkidu, embodying the bridge between nature and culture. And the tongue-twisty Utnapishtim, the survivor of a great flood (call him Noah’s precursor, if you may), and who holds the secret to immortality. You can’t miss Siduri, the wise alewife who, I think delivers one of literature’s earliest carpe diem speeches.
Stylistically, The Epic of Gilgamesh is told in verse, and is astonishingly sophisticated - moving from adventure myth of slaying monsters, to existential reflection facing mortality. I’m told, litterateurs (I’m not one) feel its poetic repetitions and rhythm mirror oral storytelling - cyclical, incantatory and eternal. I do, however realize that The Epic of Gilgamesh is mythology with emotional realism – an impossible-looking feat for 2000 BCE. The first half of the epic stories Gilgamesh and Enkidu’s heroic exploits, like slaying Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven. The second half details Gilgamesh’s spiritual crisis and futile search for eternal life. The Epic of Gilgamesh has a marvelously contemporary structure mirroring life’s arc: glory to grief to growth .
Philosophically, The Epic of Gilgamesh is proto-existentialist, proto-humanist, decidedly the earliest recorded confrontation with the absurd: humanity’s yearning for permanence in a transient world. For the first time ever, death-scared humans are told that immortality is not divine, but cultural. You find it in what we build, create, and love. Sounds familiar? Camus and Saramago would nod in approval.
Indeed. Mortality gives life its urgency and beauty. Civilization is humanity’s defiance of death. Friendship is the bridge between arrogance and empathy. And the real “epic” is self-awareness, not conquest.
The Epic of Gilgamesh evokes at once, awe, melancholy, admiration, and a weird, humbling intimacy — you’re reading the first time a human ever worried like you do. It valiantly and confidently addresses moral and ethical dilemmas: is the pursuit of immortality noble or vain? What defines greatness: conquest or compassion? Can civilization exist without the wild — or the wild without civilization? How do we live knowing death is inevitable?
And after all of Gilgamesh’s pursuits, we learn that mortality is the price of consciousness; friendship humanizes power; legacy, not eternity is humanity’s answer to death.
And, the oldest story ever told is still our story.
May 13, 2026
It is somewhat difficult to review what (may be) the oldest preserved written story in history, but I’ll try my best. The general gist of the story is that we have a rapacious and quite horrible king in the city of Uruk (located in ancient Mesopotamia, derived from the Greek “meeting of rivers” for the rivers Euphrates and Tigris). He is terrorising his people in some undisclosed way (I think it’s all the rape) yet, for a reason I’m not quite sure on, the people still look up to him as he’s some sort of demigod.
Then another demigod like figure is born in the woods (Enkidu) - Gilgamesh had a dream about this and sends an attractive lady to go and seduce him to bring him back to Uruk. Enkidu flexes his sexual stamina by having sex for a week then continues on to Uruk by request of his lady-friend. He gets into a fight with Gilgamesh because he (rightly) believes it’s bang out of order for Gilgamesh to keep forcing himself on newlywed women. Anyway they have a little fight and Enkidu decides Gilgamesh is very strong and therefore his rapaciousness is now okay. They become best friends.
Gilgamesh is obsessed with legacy so decides he wants to kill a forest spirit called Humbaba. Enkidu promptly goes with Gilgamesh, they get Humbaba to yield in supplication, and Enkidu decides instead of sparing him they must kill him. The people of Uruk think Gilgamesh and Enkidu are very cool; the goddess Inanna goes one step further and thinks Gilgamesh is hot. She proposes to Gilgamesh who then berates her due to her proclivity for getting her exes killed (honestly an entirely valid reason). Inanna subsequently embarks on a catastrophic tantrum and brings the constellation Taurus from the sky to attack Uruk (the bull of heaven). Enkidu and Gilgamesh team up and promptly dispatch the bovine threat.
The gods are then quite upset at Enkidu for not sparing both Humbaba and the bull of heaven. Consequently Enkidu is smitten down with some sort of disease and quickly dies; Gilgamesh is now distraught. He goes on a quest to stop himself dying, locating Utnapishtim - the only immortal man in the world. Utnapishtim survived the great flood with an ark that landed on top of a mountain (*cough* *cough* Genesis - make of this what you will). After attempting to disprove future monotheistic religions by divulging his story, Utnapishtim ultimately discloses that immortality is reserved for the gods. The final message is effectively that immortality is only obtainable through one’s legacy.
Honestly, it’s a very readable story given its age. The themes are interesting, the parallels with other mythology are thought-provoking, and the potential religious arguments are mind bending. I’m just a normal person so I am not well read enough to have any strong opinions - I imagine in the hands of someone with a broader knowledge of mythology and religion, this formative work is rich in connections to be discovered. One thing to note: there are missing parts that are yet to be recovered; this is not a complete work like the Iliad or the Aeneid. But to be honest I think that adds a bit to the magic. It feels a bit like you’re discovering the text - even though I haven’t done any of the hard work!
Then another demigod like figure is born in the woods (Enkidu) - Gilgamesh had a dream about this and sends an attractive lady to go and seduce him to bring him back to Uruk. Enkidu flexes his sexual stamina by having sex for a week then continues on to Uruk by request of his lady-friend. He gets into a fight with Gilgamesh because he (rightly) believes it’s bang out of order for Gilgamesh to keep forcing himself on newlywed women. Anyway they have a little fight and Enkidu decides Gilgamesh is very strong and therefore his rapaciousness is now okay. They become best friends.
Gilgamesh is obsessed with legacy so decides he wants to kill a forest spirit called Humbaba. Enkidu promptly goes with Gilgamesh, they get Humbaba to yield in supplication, and Enkidu decides instead of sparing him they must kill him. The people of Uruk think Gilgamesh and Enkidu are very cool; the goddess Inanna goes one step further and thinks Gilgamesh is hot. She proposes to Gilgamesh who then berates her due to her proclivity for getting her exes killed (honestly an entirely valid reason). Inanna subsequently embarks on a catastrophic tantrum and brings the constellation Taurus from the sky to attack Uruk (the bull of heaven). Enkidu and Gilgamesh team up and promptly dispatch the bovine threat.
The gods are then quite upset at Enkidu for not sparing both Humbaba and the bull of heaven. Consequently Enkidu is smitten down with some sort of disease and quickly dies; Gilgamesh is now distraught. He goes on a quest to stop himself dying, locating Utnapishtim - the only immortal man in the world. Utnapishtim survived the great flood with an ark that landed on top of a mountain (*cough* *cough* Genesis - make of this what you will). After attempting to disprove future monotheistic religions by divulging his story, Utnapishtim ultimately discloses that immortality is reserved for the gods. The final message is effectively that immortality is only obtainable through one’s legacy.
Honestly, it’s a very readable story given its age. The themes are interesting, the parallels with other mythology are thought-provoking, and the potential religious arguments are mind bending. I’m just a normal person so I am not well read enough to have any strong opinions - I imagine in the hands of someone with a broader knowledge of mythology and religion, this formative work is rich in connections to be discovered. One thing to note: there are missing parts that are yet to be recovered; this is not a complete work like the Iliad or the Aeneid. But to be honest I think that adds a bit to the magic. It feels a bit like you’re discovering the text - even though I haven’t done any of the hard work!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 5, 2024
This, in my opinion, is probably the first recorded story. It was present in ancient Sumer, then in Akkad, and told on clay tablets with cuneiform writing. There appear to be a variety of versions, and the author shows a lot of them and also tells of the problems in bringing the story to the present. Leaving aside the fact it is a poem and poems generally do not translate well there is another major problem: most clay tablets are broken. Fortunately, the story has been recorded very many times so often the breaks are in different places, and also there is a tendency in the poem for repetition, so lost spaces can be estimated given the bits we can see.
There is no point in discussing the story as it was written up to 5000- years ago, and in my opinion, it is even older, back to the filling of the Black Sea. The book gives several versions, but oddly enough I have seen one version that is not included, although much is the same but merely with some minor twists. I have no idea whether these came from yet more tablets, or whether the translator either added something or saw something different in the text and translated it differently. Either way, this is an excellent presentation of the epic, and it also gives some other interesting information of the times.
There is no point in discussing the story as it was written up to 5000- years ago, and in my opinion, it is even older, back to the filling of the Black Sea. The book gives several versions, but oddly enough I have seen one version that is not included, although much is the same but merely with some minor twists. I have no idea whether these came from yet more tablets, or whether the translator either added something or saw something different in the text and translated it differently. Either way, this is an excellent presentation of the epic, and it also gives some other interesting information of the times.
March 6, 2026
This book could not decide if it wanted to be literary or academic. In other words, it struggled between presently a text for readers to enjoy or presenting a text how these admittedly difficult texts resist presentation at all.
I would have wanted a clean story to immerse myself, though I realize how difficult if not impossible that is. I also would have wanted more information about the history of cuneiform, history of the region, the literary history of the poems, the preservation, the translation of these poems.
However, I understand how difficult this would be.
Still, the book intrigued me.
I would have wanted a clean story to immerse myself, though I realize how difficult if not impossible that is. I also would have wanted more information about the history of cuneiform, history of the region, the literary history of the poems, the preservation, the translation of these poems.
However, I understand how difficult this would be.
Still, the book intrigued me.
March 16, 2025
I read this book on the recommendation of the new book 52 short Non fiction books and was hoping my son would read with me. I will preface by saying that I have not always found old texts very accessible and the epics of war often bore me. This however was beautiful. As the oldest poem, an understanding of life death, friendship/(or as some interpretations suggest-queer love). This translation was wonderful--the introduction to each section was helpful and then the well crafted poetic cadence was lovely to read.
February 15, 2026
Said the tavern-keeper to him, to Gilgamesh,
'O Gilgamesh, where are you wandering?
'The life that you seek you never will find:
when the gods created mankind,
death they dispensed to mankind,
life they kept for themselves.
'But you, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full,
enjoy yourself always by day and by night!
Make merry each day,
dance and play day and night!
'Let your clothes be clean,
let your head be washed, may you bathe in water!
Gaze on the child who holds your hand,
let a wife enjoy your repeated embrace!
'For such is the destiny [of mortal men,]
that the one who lives ...........'
'O Gilgamesh, where are you wandering?
'The life that you seek you never will find:
when the gods created mankind,
death they dispensed to mankind,
life they kept for themselves.
'But you, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full,
enjoy yourself always by day and by night!
Make merry each day,
dance and play day and night!
'Let your clothes be clean,
let your head be washed, may you bathe in water!
Gaze on the child who holds your hand,
let a wife enjoy your repeated embrace!
'For such is the destiny [of mortal men,]
that the one who lives ...........'
April 4, 2026
Very interesting to see how the Babylonians 3000-4000 years ago had such similar thoughts about mortality and duty as we do today. The translator tries to stay very close to the actual text and covers multiple versions of the epic from different periods spanning almost 1500 years with context on where those tablets were recovered from and where they are from (to no one's surprise, many are in the British museum) but in the process, falls short of providing some context connecting the different versions/missing parts of the epic thus reducing readability.
June 17, 2026
- First myth of human history: friendship, mortality, meaning
" O Gilgamesh, where are you wandering? You cannot find the life that you seek: when the gods created mankind, for mankind they established death, life they kept for themselves. You, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full, keep enjoying yourself, day and night! Every day make merry, dance and play day and night! Let your clothes be clean! Let your head be washed, may you be bathed in water! Gaze on the little one who holds your hand! Let a wife enjoy your repeated embrace! Such is the destiny of mortal men."
" O Gilgamesh, where are you wandering? You cannot find the life that you seek: when the gods created mankind, for mankind they established death, life they kept for themselves. You, Gilgamesh, let your belly be full, keep enjoying yourself, day and night! Every day make merry, dance and play day and night! Let your clothes be clean! Let your head be washed, may you be bathed in water! Gaze on the little one who holds your hand! Let a wife enjoy your repeated embrace! Such is the destiny of mortal men."
November 27, 2024
My friend Aidan and I recently decided to read or reread a compendium of historically, culturally, or socially relevant texts. The oldest epic poem counts definitely counts as such.
What struck me most about Gilgamesh was its humanness. Thousands of years ago, the ever-present reality of mortality existed just as it does today, serving as both an inescapable bane and a constant reminder to live life fully and passionately, leaving behind something meaningful in our wake.
What struck me most about Gilgamesh was its humanness. Thousands of years ago, the ever-present reality of mortality existed just as it does today, serving as both an inescapable bane and a constant reminder to live life fully and passionately, leaving behind something meaningful in our wake.
February 13, 2025
Read as part of reading list on a Humanities course.
I know my rating is out of line with the others and I know this is/could be a very important text. I am probably not up to speed on this age of historical literature, I get the flood, and the epic, and connections to old testament and Homer. But so much is repeated or missing it makes for hard going unless read as a research document. This is my opinion
I know my rating is out of line with the others and I know this is/could be a very important text. I am probably not up to speed on this age of historical literature, I get the flood, and the epic, and connections to old testament and Homer. But so much is repeated or missing it makes for hard going unless read as a research document. This is my opinion
Read
April 14, 2024Seeing the stories of the oldest human literature is a treat to read. How much of ourselves has not change in the millenniums? Not a whole lot. This text is not a compressive story. Extremely fragmented so you get only raw action that is known. Many things change over the years as one lives but friendship and drinking are contents in the world.
August 1, 2024
Well, if the Bible can't unify Westerners, including Christians, Moslems and Jews, as the Chinese canon unites Chinese people, perhaps Gilgamesh can do the job. Familiar Western themes are found here, such as the number 7, the flood (which is translated as deluge), the ark, and some version of Noah. I'd recommend watching the lecture by Andrew George as well.
September 29, 2024
Andrew George's second edition from 2020 adds some new material to a poem that is ever-growing as more and more fragments are rediscovered and translated. His introduction to the history of the poem and the different versions are both interesting and enjoyable to read, as well as his brief touching on the poetic metre.
January 23, 2024
Like most epics, it's a weird read that's not normal to modern Western eyes. It is the first major epic, though, and it does earn respect for that alone. Andrew George gave a very well written introduction and compiled the the epic and the other adjacent poems in a very easy to digest manor.
June 10, 2025
Finally I understand the different versions of the Epic of Gilgamesh, either Akkadian and Sumerian version. This book contain academically things about the epic translation, but still a joyous-readable book.
June 3, 2026
Solid story, especially for the first story ever written. The work that goes into these translations is unfathomable. For people with such a difficult writing system, the ancient Mesopotamians loved to repeat themselves.
May 20, 2025
This book is an interesting read which opens the readers eyes to ancient thinking.
September 18, 2025
Interesting how this ancient epic has such clear parallels to Genesis.
October 4, 2025
Read for University.
June 26, 2026
Thats something very meaningful about reading a story people loved 3000 years. At times a look into a brutal, alien world, at times devastatingly familiar.
August 30, 2025
A Babylonian king has adventures across his land with gods and mortals. I don’t know if it is as the way they were described or the way women were depicted but I did not find these stories particularly compelling. 2/5 stars.
March 7, 2024
My copy (published 2020) preserves the epic with many lacunas included. It made me feel up-to-date on the state of the recovery of the complete work, plus it has a pronunciation guide! However, the fragmentary presentation pales in comparison with the gapless pastiche published in 2006 with the foil cover.
April 13, 2026
was purely curious about the epic as it’s the earliest recorded literature. surprised by how engaging the story still is. This specific translation had a good flow, made it an easy and enjoyable read. Also the first I’ve read a character like Shamhat, the “sacred prostitute”, which was apparently common in Mesopotamia
Other key interesting things:
- the parallel to story of Noah’s ark
- the parallel to the Greek underworld
Other key interesting things:
- the parallel to story of Noah’s ark
- the parallel to the Greek underworld
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