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Colección integral de Sófocles
Este ebook presenta "Colección integral de Sófocles” con un sumario dinámico y detallado.
Sófocles fue un autor trágico griego del siglo V antes de Cristo. Según la Suda, una enciclopedia del siglo X d.C., Sófocles escribió ciento veintitrés obras durante su vida, pero sólo han llegado hasta nuestros días siete. Durante casi cincuenta años Sófocles fue el más premiado autor de las competiciones teatrales de la ciudad-estado de Atenas que tenían lugar durante los festivales en honor a Dioniso (Dionisias y Leneas). Las tragedias más significativas de Sófocles que se conocen hacen referencia a Edipo y Antígona, conocidas también como las obras “tebanas”. Pertenecían a tetralogías de obras, aunque desgraciadamente se perdieron en casi su totalidad. Sófocles influyó grandemente el teatro de su tiempo, reduciendo la importancia del coro en las representaciones o añadiendo un tercer actor a las obras.
Tabla de contenidos:
Electra
Edipo Rey
Antígona
Sófocles (495 a.C. - 406 a.C.) fue un poeta trágico de la Antigua Grecia. Autor de obras como Antígona o Edipo Rey, se sitúa, junto con Esquilo y Eurípides, entre las figuras más destacadas de la tragedia griega.
164 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 430
About the author
Sophocles
2,321 books2,840 followersSophocles (497/496 BC-406/405 BC), (Greek:
Σοφοκλής
; German:
Sophokles
, Russian:
Софокл
, French:
Sophocle
, Catalan:
Sòfocles
) was an ancient Greek tragedian, known as one of three from whom at least one play has survived in full. His first plays were written later than, or contemporary with, those of Aeschylus; and earlier than, or contemporary with, those of Euripides. Sophocles wrote over 120 plays, but only seven have survived in a complete form: Ajax, Antigone, Women of Trachis, Oedipus Rex, Electra, Philoctetes, and Oedipus at Colonus. For almost fifty years, Sophocles was the most celebrated playwright in the dramatic competitions of the city-state of Athens which took place during the religious festivals of the Lenaea and the Dionysia. He competed in thirty competitions, won twenty-four, and was never judged lower than second place. Aeschylus won thirteen competitions, and was sometimes defeated by Sophocles; Euripides won four.
The most famous tragedies of Sophocles feature Oedipus and Antigone: they are generally known as the Theban plays, though each was part of a different tetralogy (the other members of which are now lost). Sophocles influenced the development of drama, most importantly by adding a third actor (attributed to Sophocles by Aristotle; to Aeschylus by Themistius), thereby reducing the importance of the chorus in the presentation of the plot. He also developed his characters to a greater extent than earlier playwrights.
The most famous tragedies of Sophocles feature Oedipus and Antigone: they are generally known as the Theban plays, though each was part of a different tetralogy (the other members of which are now lost). Sophocles influenced the development of drama, most importantly by adding a third actor (attributed to Sophocles by Aristotle; to Aeschylus by Themistius), thereby reducing the importance of the chorus in the presentation of the plot. He also developed his characters to a greater extent than earlier playwrights.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 457 reviews
January 15, 2024
Not sure how I avoided Greek tragedy this long, but better late than never! All three plays are dynamite. The dialogue's killer, the dilemmas juicy. Love the fierce female characters, particularly in Antigone and Electra. I’m sure a great translation helps, but I’m surprised how breezy Sophocles is to read. I don’t expect 400 BC texts to keep me turning the pages like a crime thriller, but that’s how it went. No SparkNotes needed, jump right in.
As a Shakespeare fan, it became immediately apparent how influential Greek theater was on Elizabethan theater. While the ancient stuff is simpler in plot and emotion, it’s easy to see how Renaissance writers adapted the general structure and improved it.
My only disappointment is Freud-related. I expected (hoped?) Oedipus would be hot for Mom based on the famed complex, but instead he gouges out his own eyes after discovering he had unknowingly married his mother and killed his father. Seems like an opposite choice name-bearer for someone who desires to kill dad and marry mom, but I suppose the point is that it’s a subconscious complex. Anyway, I'm sure it helps to evoke the classics when naming a taboo psychological theory!
Overall, this three-pack of canonical literature is brisk, easy-reading that’s also immortally arresting. I get why Greek tragedy is such a big deal now. If you’re like me, you’ll probably wonder why you didn’t read these sooner!
As a Shakespeare fan, it became immediately apparent how influential Greek theater was on Elizabethan theater. While the ancient stuff is simpler in plot and emotion, it’s easy to see how Renaissance writers adapted the general structure and improved it.
My only disappointment is Freud-related. I expected (hoped?) Oedipus would be hot for Mom based on the famed complex, but instead he gouges out his own eyes after discovering he had unknowingly married his mother and killed his father. Seems like an opposite choice name-bearer for someone who desires to kill dad and marry mom, but I suppose the point is that it’s a subconscious complex. Anyway, I'm sure it helps to evoke the classics when naming a taboo psychological theory!
Overall, this three-pack of canonical literature is brisk, easy-reading that’s also immortally arresting. I get why Greek tragedy is such a big deal now. If you’re like me, you’ll probably wonder why you didn’t read these sooner!
August 10, 2023
A stunning mesh of power and tragedy.
This collection holds 3 morally hard-hitting plays, each demonstrating a glimpse into classical antiquity and ancient societal dynamics.
Oedipus presented a poignant story of emotional revenge and realisation, while Electra explored grief and simultaneous gain- however, Antigone was my favourite of the set.
A tale of feminine power, societal oppression and familial love. The story of Antigone is a classic tragedy, arrogance with devastating consequence.
“Was I to stand before the god’s tribunal for disobeying them , because I feared a man?”
This collection holds 3 morally hard-hitting plays, each demonstrating a glimpse into classical antiquity and ancient societal dynamics.
Oedipus presented a poignant story of emotional revenge and realisation, while Electra explored grief and simultaneous gain- however, Antigone was my favourite of the set.
A tale of feminine power, societal oppression and familial love. The story of Antigone is a classic tragedy, arrogance with devastating consequence.
“Was I to stand before the god’s tribunal for disobeying them , because I feared a man?”
November 11, 2015
(gunna add my arabic homework for my media class (Dramatic Arts)
يصعب أحيانا على قارىء في القرن الواحد والعشرين فهم التراجيديات اليواننية لكونها سابقة لافكار و معلومات و حركات إجتماعية غيرت تفكير الإنسان المعاصر. ولكن عادةً ما يكون جوهر و فكرة المسرحية فكرة عالمية تتجاوز حدود الوقت و المكان.
مسرحية أنتيجونا هي جزء من ثلاثية ثيب لسوفوقليس، تتمحور حول أنتيجونا، إبنة الملك السابق أوديب الذي تعرفنا عليه في مسرحية أوديب ملكا، و هو الملك الذي يبدو وقد حكم علية بلعنةٍ يستحيل تفاديها و هي أن يقتل أباه و يتزوج أمه. يحاول أهلة تفادي تلك اللعنه فيفشلوا، يحاول هو تفادي تلك اللعنه فيفشل، و ما كتب عليه يحدث . عندما يكتشف أوديب ماذا فعل يقتلع عيناه من الألم و العار. ، تقتل جوكاستا نفسها للسبب نفسه و يتبقون أولادهم الأربع: الولدان إتيوكلس و بولينيكس. و الفتاتان أنتيجونا و أيسمينا. عندما قرر أوديب ترك مدينة ثيب وصى أخ زوجته (و أمه) كريون بإعطاء جوكاستا الجنازة المناسبة و الإهتمام بأبنائه.
تبداء مسرحبة أنتيجونا بقدومها إلى أختها إسمينا و طلبها منها أن تساعدها في دفن جثمان أخيها بولينكس، الذي أمر الملك كريون بعدم دفنه، عقابا على خيانته للمدينه بقتاله مع أخاه إتوكليس الذي أعطي كل حقوق الدفن و الجنازة المسابة. كانوا اليونانيون يؤمنون بأهمية الدفن و إعطاء الميت الطقوس المناسبة و إلا لن يحظى بالسلام و الراحة في العالم السفلي.
قررت أنتيجونا مخالفاة قوانين الملك لتطبيق قوانين الآلهة ، إعطاء أخاها العزيز لديها حق الدفن و لكن إسمينا لم ترد مساعدتها لخوفها من العواقب الوخيمه. قالت إسمينا لأنتيجونا “و أعلمي أننا لسنا إلا امرأتين: والطبيعة لم تجلبنا على النضال ضد الرجال. إنا خاضعتان لسادة، و بالتالي نحن مرغمتان على الامتثال لأوامرهم هذة و ما هو أقسي منها”
ولكن أنتيجونا لم تستمع لكلام أختها و قررت أن تقوم بفعل الأمر المناسب أخلاقيا، فهي لم ترى أن كونها إمرأة أو كون كريون رجل سبب كافي لعدم إعطاء أخاها حقه.
إكتشف كريون عن فعل أنتيجونا و قررا قتلها عقابا لها و تطبيقا للقانون الذي وضعه، بغض النظر عن كونها إبنة أخته و كونها خطيبة إبنه، فبمنظور كريون القانون يطبق على الجميع. توسله إبنه هيمون عن عدم قتلها و الإعفاء عنها قائلا انه ليس في مصلحته ان يعاقبها و أن الشعب يعتبرها بطله لتطبيقها قانون الآلهة.
ولكنة لم يستمع لوصايا إبنه و يقرر معاقبتها بوضعها في كهف لوحدها.
بعد ذلك دخل على الملك العراف العجوز الأعمى تايريتيس الذي وجد من قبل في مسرحية أوديب ملكا و عادةً ما يأتي بالحقيقة. قال تايريسيس للملك أنه يتهور في تطبيق هذا القانون الذي لا معنى له و أنا هذا حتما سيجلب له المصائب و العواقب الوخيمة.
يستمع كريون لنصيحة تايريسيس و لكن قد فات الأوان، فيجد كريون أنتيجونا منتحرة و يجد هيمون منتحرٌ معها، و عندما تسمع أم هيمون بخبر موته تنتحر هي الأخرى. و يجد كريون نفسه مكفوفا الأيادي و عالمه يتدهور و يتحطم أمام عينية.
أنتيجونا تعتبر مسرحيه تراجيدية ذات موضوع سياسي لإحتوائها على نقد للحكم السلطوي الدكتاتوري الذي يطبق قوانين اقاسية عمياء، يبدولي أن سوفوقليس يوضح أهمية و صعوبة تطبيق نظام ديموقراطي يهتم يرغبات و حاجات الشعب و الفرد، فبالرغم من إسم المسرحية، يبدو أن البطل الحقيقي هو كريون لما فية من صفات البطل التراجيدي وفقا لتعريف أرسطو. فإن كريون هو الشخصية التي يستطيع القاريء و المتفرج أن يرى صراعها و أتخاذها للقررارات الصعبة.
إنها مسرحية رائعة جدا فيها أفكار و مواضيع إنسانية خادة سنتسائل عنها طالما وجدنا على وجه الأرض.
يصعب أحيانا على قارىء في القرن الواحد والعشرين فهم التراجيديات اليواننية لكونها سابقة لافكار و معلومات و حركات إجتماعية غيرت تفكير الإنسان المعاصر. ولكن عادةً ما يكون جوهر و فكرة المسرحية فكرة عالمية تتجاوز حدود الوقت و المكان.
مسرحية أنتيجونا هي جزء من ثلاثية ثيب لسوفوقليس، تتمحور حول أنتيجونا، إبنة الملك السابق أوديب الذي تعرفنا عليه في مسرحية أوديب ملكا، و هو الملك الذي يبدو وقد حكم علية بلعنةٍ يستحيل تفاديها و هي أن يقتل أباه و يتزوج أمه. يحاول أهلة تفادي تلك اللعنه فيفشلوا، يحاول هو تفادي تلك اللعنه فيفشل، و ما كتب عليه يحدث . عندما يكتشف أوديب ماذا فعل يقتلع عيناه من الألم و العار. ، تقتل جوكاستا نفسها للسبب نفسه و يتبقون أولادهم الأربع: الولدان إتيوكلس و بولينيكس. و الفتاتان أنتيجونا و أيسمينا. عندما قرر أوديب ترك مدينة ثيب وصى أخ زوجته (و أمه) كريون بإعطاء جوكاستا الجنازة المناسبة و الإهتمام بأبنائه.
تبداء مسرحبة أنتيجونا بقدومها إلى أختها إسمينا و طلبها منها أن تساعدها في دفن جثمان أخيها بولينكس، الذي أمر الملك كريون بعدم دفنه، عقابا على خيانته للمدينه بقتاله مع أخاه إتوكليس الذي أعطي كل حقوق الدفن و الجنازة المسابة. كانوا اليونانيون يؤمنون بأهمية الدفن و إعطاء الميت الطقوس المناسبة و إلا لن يحظى بالسلام و الراحة في العالم السفلي.
قررت أنتيجونا مخالفاة قوانين الملك لتطبيق قوانين الآلهة ، إعطاء أخاها العزيز لديها حق الدفن و لكن إسمينا لم ترد مساعدتها لخوفها من العواقب الوخيمه. قالت إسمينا لأنتيجونا “و أعلمي أننا لسنا إلا امرأتين: والطبيعة لم تجلبنا على النضال ضد الرجال. إنا خاضعتان لسادة، و بالتالي نحن مرغمتان على الامتثال لأوامرهم هذة و ما هو أقسي منها”
ولكن أنتيجونا لم تستمع لكلام أختها و قررت أن تقوم بفعل الأمر المناسب أخلاقيا، فهي لم ترى أن كونها إمرأة أو كون كريون رجل سبب كافي لعدم إعطاء أخاها حقه.
إكتشف كريون عن فعل أنتيجونا و قررا قتلها عقابا لها و تطبيقا للقانون الذي وضعه، بغض النظر عن كونها إبنة أخته و كونها خطيبة إبنه، فبمنظور كريون القانون يطبق على الجميع. توسله إبنه هيمون عن عدم قتلها و الإعفاء عنها قائلا انه ليس في مصلحته ان يعاقبها و أن الشعب يعتبرها بطله لتطبيقها قانون الآلهة.
ولكنة لم يستمع لوصايا إبنه و يقرر معاقبتها بوضعها في كهف لوحدها.
بعد ذلك دخل على الملك العراف العجوز الأعمى تايريتيس الذي وجد من قبل في مسرحية أوديب ملكا و عادةً ما يأتي بالحقيقة. قال تايريسيس للملك أنه يتهور في تطبيق هذا القانون الذي لا معنى له و أنا هذا حتما سيجلب له المصائب و العواقب الوخيمة.
يستمع كريون لنصيحة تايريسيس و لكن قد فات الأوان، فيجد كريون أنتيجونا منتحرة و يجد هيمون منتحرٌ معها، و عندما تسمع أم هيمون بخبر موته تنتحر هي الأخرى. و يجد كريون نفسه مكفوفا الأيادي و عالمه يتدهور و يتحطم أمام عينية.
أنتيجونا تعتبر مسرحيه تراجيدية ذات موضوع سياسي لإحتوائها على نقد للحكم السلطوي الدكتاتوري الذي يطبق قوانين اقاسية عمياء، يبدولي أن سوفوقليس يوضح أهمية و صعوبة تطبيق نظام ديموقراطي يهتم يرغبات و حاجات الشعب و الفرد، فبالرغم من إسم المسرحية، يبدو أن البطل الحقيقي هو كريون لما فية من صفات البطل التراجيدي وفقا لتعريف أرسطو. فإن كريون هو الشخصية التي يستطيع القاريء و المتفرج أن يرى صراعها و أتخاذها للقررارات الصعبة.
إنها مسرحية رائعة جدا فيها أفكار و مواضيع إنسانية خادة سنتسائل عنها طالما وجدنا على وجه الأرض.
June 25, 2022
4.25/5 Stars
These were all awesome!
I've read Antigone and Oedipus the King before, but I loved revisiting them again, and have them still be as good as I once remembered back in school. I never read Electra before, so I was hesitant, but still excited to get into it. And thank the gods I did because it was better than I expected!
My favourite of the plays is probably Oedipus the King. It has the most exciting plot, and biggest plot-twist out of any of them. Super engaging! (albeit the twist is gross and messed up).
Electra was my next favourite. Electra was such a compelling character, and she had a real complicated relationship with her sister that I loved witnessing as the plot grew. And it also has a (sort of) happy ending! We never see those!
Antigone is still absolutely great! I think Antigone might be one of my favourite characters. The plot of the play isn't my absolute fave, nor is it too exciting, but we do get some great interactions with Creon, Antigone, and Ismene.
Definitely go and check out these plays. The Oxford World's Classics edition was so accessible! Highly recommend.
These were all awesome!
I've read Antigone and Oedipus the King before, but I loved revisiting them again, and have them still be as good as I once remembered back in school. I never read Electra before, so I was hesitant, but still excited to get into it. And thank the gods I did because it was better than I expected!
My favourite of the plays is probably Oedipus the King. It has the most exciting plot, and biggest plot-twist out of any of them. Super engaging! (albeit the twist is gross and messed up).
Electra was my next favourite. Electra was such a compelling character, and she had a real complicated relationship with her sister that I loved witnessing as the plot grew. And it also has a (sort of) happy ending! We never see those!
Antigone is still absolutely great! I think Antigone might be one of my favourite characters. The plot of the play isn't my absolute fave, nor is it too exciting, but we do get some great interactions with Creon, Antigone, and Ismene.
Definitely go and check out these plays. The Oxford World's Classics edition was so accessible! Highly recommend.
April 9, 2008
Don't get me wrong, Sophocles is a great playwright. But could Oedipus have really been that stupid. If someone made the prophesy that you would kill your father and make your mother your wife, don’t you think you would have been a little more cautious. Don't you think at any point he would have said "Hey, that guy is old enough to be my father an he looks a little like me. I probably shouldn’t kill him." Or perhaps he would have said "This lady is hot!...too bad she is old enough to be my mother and wait…she looks like me too!"
March 23, 2026
La misericordia como reemplazo a la justicia vengativa a partir de la Electra de Sófocles.
La tragedia de la familia de Agamenón, jefe del ejército aqueo en la guerra de Troya, inicia con el sacrificio de Ifigenia, su hija, para que los aqueos pudieran partir de Troya a Grecia. Clitemnestra mata a Agamenón, su esposo, en venganza y con complicidad de su amante Egisto. Electra y Orestes buscarán después vengar el asesinato de su padre. Pero en realidad esta historia parte de un conflicto familiar más antiguo, cuyo desenlace será una especie de símbolo intuitivo del paso de la justicia vengativa hacia la ley moderna.
En uno de los primeros capítulos de El idiota, de Dostoievski, el protagonista, el Príncipe Myshkin, habla de la pena de muerte y lo problemático de resolver un crimen con otro crimen. Ese modo de justicia fue la norma durante siglos y es la base del conflicto en la tragedia de Electra, la cual procede de una cadena de venganzas familiares originada por su tatarabuelo Tántalo, al desafiar el poder de los dioses y darles de comer a su propio hijo Pélope. Por ello sería condenado al castigo eterno en el Tártaro. Después sus hijos tendrán una rivalidad que llevará a uno de ellos a un acto similar. El sistema de odio y venganza traspasará generaciones clamando una justicia que devuelve un asesinato por otro.
Una ruptura de esa lógica, aunque extemporánea, para cortar esa maldición es el perdón y el paso a un sistema de justicia moderno; pero ello no se verá sino en la trilogía La orestíada, de Esquilo, que narra la historia de Electra, Orestes y su familia desde otra perspectiva. Ahora, volviendo a El Idiota, Dostoievski va más allá en su planteamiento acerca de la pena de muerte, ya instaurada en un sistema jurídico, ya que hay una idea de misericordia (que como diría la filósofa Simone Weil, es asimétrica) que este autor expone al haber vivido él mismo una pena de muerte que en el último minuto, cuando ya iba a ser asesinado, fue anulada. Esta certeza de que iba a morir sin remedio es el terror más grande que un ser humano puede vivir, según el autor ruso. Para Dostoievski, cuando la víctima es asesinada por un criminal, al menos tiene una esperanza última de sobrevivir, pero el condenado a muerte no la tiene. Ese estado de angustia por muerte inminente es lo que cree Dostoievski que nadie debería experimentar. Como vemos, es una visión diferente, basada en la misericordia y la empatía.
Pero en Electra la humanidad no llega aún a ello. Lo que pesa es la ruptura de la ley natural que destruye lo filial. La desnaturalización de los vínculos familiares corrompe el orden natural: hijos que odian a la madre, madre que asesina al marido, padre que sacrifica a su hija (aunque haya sido pedido por una diosa, en el nivel humano, todo esto altera el orden). Esa violación de la ley natural es el origen de la tragedia. Así como la cadena de venganza y la hybris que conecta a todo un linaje. El asesinato de Agamenón no es sólo a causa del dolor de Clitemnestra al ser Ifigenia sacrificada, sino que el padre de Egisto, Tieste, se disputaba el trono con su hermano, Atreo, que es el padre de Agamenón y Menelao, figuras clave de la Guerra de Troya. Atreo en un acto de crueldad, asesina a los hijos mayores de Tieste y los sirve como comida al propio Tieste, tal como hiciera su abuelo Tántalo con su hijo. Ahí nace una intención de venganza que se verá cumplida en Egisto al matar a Agamenón.
Ahora, esta forma de justicia a modo de la Ley del Talión será reformada desde la fe cristiana con el mensaje, revolucionario en este aspecto, de Cristo. Pero, es preciso una contextualización anterior: El sacrificio de Ifigenia, según la versión de Sófocles, pedido por la diosa de la caza Artemisa, ya que Agamenón habría sacrificado un ciervo sagrado de ella, tiene un símil con el sacrificio que le pide Dios a Abraham: su hijo Isaac. Cuando Abraham lo va a hacer por obediencia y amor absoluto a Dios, este envía un ángel para detenerle, y señala un cordero enredado en una cerca que será sacrificado en lugar de Isaac. En el sacrificio de Ifigenia la motivación es a la inversa. En la tragedia griega, una de las grandes motivaciones es la venganza, que no es más que el intento de hacer justicia al reponer el equilibrio roto por la alteración del orden al cometer un acto en contra de alguien, en este caso, el sacrificio de un ciervo de Artemisa.
Pero en la noción judeocristiana, aunque en apariencia haya en el Antiguo Testamento y en el Judaísmo la ley conocida como el "ojo por ojo", en realidad no es así; sobre todo en el cristianismo que cambió por completo la cuestión de la venganza y la justicia. En un principio Dios establece esas leyes para poner en regla al pueblo judío que era muy díscolo (este es un tema muy largo). El cristianismo opera en una lógica distinta que busca cambiar el paradigma ético y moral por completo: el poner la otra mejilla y sobre todo, el "ama a tus enemigos" es lo que significa la Misericordia. No devolver el mal por mal, sino dejar que el desequilibro que genera el daño que otro me puede hacer sea subsanado por la misericordia divina, no por la mano del hombre. Es por eso que la tan lúcida Simone Weil señala que la misericordia es asimétrica, porque la búsqueda de venganza en el hombre, en realidad es la búsqueda de simetría, de devolver el peso igual en la balanza.
Ahora, volviendo al sacrificio que le pide Dios a Abraham, aquí no hay restitución del equilibrio por nada que haya hecho Abraham o por un fin utilitario (como lo es que las naves puedan partir de Troya), sino que es un sacrificio completamente gratuito y absurdo, y sólo puede ser entendido a través de la fe. Este planteamiento del filósofo Soren Kierkegaard compara el sacrificio trunco de Isaac con el que hace Agamenón (el verdadero "Héroe trágico"), quien debe sacrificar a su hija Ifigenia a los dioses para que cese la tempestad y puedan regresar en sus naves luego de la guerra de Troya, según han deparado los augures. Agamenón, desgarrado por el dolor, lo acepta por el bien de lo general (su gente) y aunque es un acto aberrante, está cobijado por la lógica del sacrificio por el bien colectivo, por lo tanto, la ética le respalda. Por el contrario, Abraham no tiene ningún propósito de bien general con ofrecer su único hijo amado en sacrificio a Dios, sino sólo un propósito particular que es el de aceptar la prueba como muestra de entrega y amor absoluto a Dios.
Por último, en otras versiones del mito y la tragedia de Ifigenia, ésta, al igual que Isaac el hijo de Abraham, es salvada a último minuto y sacada por la propia Artemisa que reemplaza a Ifigenia con un ciervo. Muy similar a lo de Abraham e Isaac. Esto se puede leer en la tragedia Ifigenia en Aúlide de Eurípides. Este desenlace cambia mucho toda la idea de la tragedia, ya que la posibilidad de redención está presente. Lo mismo con el desenlace de esta tragedia en La Orestíada de Esquilo, que abarca una parte de esta historia familiar desde otro ángulo. Aquí los dioses perdonarán a Orestes por el asesinato de su madre a través de un juicio que también será una especie de preconfiguración del cambio paradigmático en la visión de la justicia moderna y la misericordia. Orestes será absuelto y las diosas de la venganza, las Erinias, serán transformadas en diosas benévolas, las Euménides, dando un giro simbólico y ontológico, que grafica la reconfiguración de la humanidad en búsqueda de un equilibrio justo que se aleja de lo brutal para acercarse a lo compasivo.
La tragedia de la familia de Agamenón, jefe del ejército aqueo en la guerra de Troya, inicia con el sacrificio de Ifigenia, su hija, para que los aqueos pudieran partir de Troya a Grecia. Clitemnestra mata a Agamenón, su esposo, en venganza y con complicidad de su amante Egisto. Electra y Orestes buscarán después vengar el asesinato de su padre. Pero en realidad esta historia parte de un conflicto familiar más antiguo, cuyo desenlace será una especie de símbolo intuitivo del paso de la justicia vengativa hacia la ley moderna.
En uno de los primeros capítulos de El idiota, de Dostoievski, el protagonista, el Príncipe Myshkin, habla de la pena de muerte y lo problemático de resolver un crimen con otro crimen. Ese modo de justicia fue la norma durante siglos y es la base del conflicto en la tragedia de Electra, la cual procede de una cadena de venganzas familiares originada por su tatarabuelo Tántalo, al desafiar el poder de los dioses y darles de comer a su propio hijo Pélope. Por ello sería condenado al castigo eterno en el Tártaro. Después sus hijos tendrán una rivalidad que llevará a uno de ellos a un acto similar. El sistema de odio y venganza traspasará generaciones clamando una justicia que devuelve un asesinato por otro.
Una ruptura de esa lógica, aunque extemporánea, para cortar esa maldición es el perdón y el paso a un sistema de justicia moderno; pero ello no se verá sino en la trilogía La orestíada, de Esquilo, que narra la historia de Electra, Orestes y su familia desde otra perspectiva. Ahora, volviendo a El Idiota, Dostoievski va más allá en su planteamiento acerca de la pena de muerte, ya instaurada en un sistema jurídico, ya que hay una idea de misericordia (que como diría la filósofa Simone Weil, es asimétrica) que este autor expone al haber vivido él mismo una pena de muerte que en el último minuto, cuando ya iba a ser asesinado, fue anulada. Esta certeza de que iba a morir sin remedio es el terror más grande que un ser humano puede vivir, según el autor ruso. Para Dostoievski, cuando la víctima es asesinada por un criminal, al menos tiene una esperanza última de sobrevivir, pero el condenado a muerte no la tiene. Ese estado de angustia por muerte inminente es lo que cree Dostoievski que nadie debería experimentar. Como vemos, es una visión diferente, basada en la misericordia y la empatía.
Pero en Electra la humanidad no llega aún a ello. Lo que pesa es la ruptura de la ley natural que destruye lo filial. La desnaturalización de los vínculos familiares corrompe el orden natural: hijos que odian a la madre, madre que asesina al marido, padre que sacrifica a su hija (aunque haya sido pedido por una diosa, en el nivel humano, todo esto altera el orden). Esa violación de la ley natural es el origen de la tragedia. Así como la cadena de venganza y la hybris que conecta a todo un linaje. El asesinato de Agamenón no es sólo a causa del dolor de Clitemnestra al ser Ifigenia sacrificada, sino que el padre de Egisto, Tieste, se disputaba el trono con su hermano, Atreo, que es el padre de Agamenón y Menelao, figuras clave de la Guerra de Troya. Atreo en un acto de crueldad, asesina a los hijos mayores de Tieste y los sirve como comida al propio Tieste, tal como hiciera su abuelo Tántalo con su hijo. Ahí nace una intención de venganza que se verá cumplida en Egisto al matar a Agamenón.
Ahora, esta forma de justicia a modo de la Ley del Talión será reformada desde la fe cristiana con el mensaje, revolucionario en este aspecto, de Cristo. Pero, es preciso una contextualización anterior: El sacrificio de Ifigenia, según la versión de Sófocles, pedido por la diosa de la caza Artemisa, ya que Agamenón habría sacrificado un ciervo sagrado de ella, tiene un símil con el sacrificio que le pide Dios a Abraham: su hijo Isaac. Cuando Abraham lo va a hacer por obediencia y amor absoluto a Dios, este envía un ángel para detenerle, y señala un cordero enredado en una cerca que será sacrificado en lugar de Isaac. En el sacrificio de Ifigenia la motivación es a la inversa. En la tragedia griega, una de las grandes motivaciones es la venganza, que no es más que el intento de hacer justicia al reponer el equilibrio roto por la alteración del orden al cometer un acto en contra de alguien, en este caso, el sacrificio de un ciervo de Artemisa.
Pero en la noción judeocristiana, aunque en apariencia haya en el Antiguo Testamento y en el Judaísmo la ley conocida como el "ojo por ojo", en realidad no es así; sobre todo en el cristianismo que cambió por completo la cuestión de la venganza y la justicia. En un principio Dios establece esas leyes para poner en regla al pueblo judío que era muy díscolo (este es un tema muy largo). El cristianismo opera en una lógica distinta que busca cambiar el paradigma ético y moral por completo: el poner la otra mejilla y sobre todo, el "ama a tus enemigos" es lo que significa la Misericordia. No devolver el mal por mal, sino dejar que el desequilibro que genera el daño que otro me puede hacer sea subsanado por la misericordia divina, no por la mano del hombre. Es por eso que la tan lúcida Simone Weil señala que la misericordia es asimétrica, porque la búsqueda de venganza en el hombre, en realidad es la búsqueda de simetría, de devolver el peso igual en la balanza.
Ahora, volviendo al sacrificio que le pide Dios a Abraham, aquí no hay restitución del equilibrio por nada que haya hecho Abraham o por un fin utilitario (como lo es que las naves puedan partir de Troya), sino que es un sacrificio completamente gratuito y absurdo, y sólo puede ser entendido a través de la fe. Este planteamiento del filósofo Soren Kierkegaard compara el sacrificio trunco de Isaac con el que hace Agamenón (el verdadero "Héroe trágico"), quien debe sacrificar a su hija Ifigenia a los dioses para que cese la tempestad y puedan regresar en sus naves luego de la guerra de Troya, según han deparado los augures. Agamenón, desgarrado por el dolor, lo acepta por el bien de lo general (su gente) y aunque es un acto aberrante, está cobijado por la lógica del sacrificio por el bien colectivo, por lo tanto, la ética le respalda. Por el contrario, Abraham no tiene ningún propósito de bien general con ofrecer su único hijo amado en sacrificio a Dios, sino sólo un propósito particular que es el de aceptar la prueba como muestra de entrega y amor absoluto a Dios.
Por último, en otras versiones del mito y la tragedia de Ifigenia, ésta, al igual que Isaac el hijo de Abraham, es salvada a último minuto y sacada por la propia Artemisa que reemplaza a Ifigenia con un ciervo. Muy similar a lo de Abraham e Isaac. Esto se puede leer en la tragedia Ifigenia en Aúlide de Eurípides. Este desenlace cambia mucho toda la idea de la tragedia, ya que la posibilidad de redención está presente. Lo mismo con el desenlace de esta tragedia en La Orestíada de Esquilo, que abarca una parte de esta historia familiar desde otro ángulo. Aquí los dioses perdonarán a Orestes por el asesinato de su madre a través de un juicio que también será una especie de preconfiguración del cambio paradigmático en la visión de la justicia moderna y la misericordia. Orestes será absuelto y las diosas de la venganza, las Erinias, serán transformadas en diosas benévolas, las Euménides, dando un giro simbólico y ontológico, que grafica la reconfiguración de la humanidad en búsqueda de un equilibrio justo que se aleja de lo brutal para acercarse a lo compasivo.
October 21, 2023
My daughter had to read Oedipus for her English class this year. To help her get into it, we started to do a dramatic reading of it together. Once we started, she was hooked pretty fast. Obviously, I already knew the “twist” that faced Oedipus but she didn’t so it was to see her figure out the mystery from the hints Oedipus gets along the way. It such a classic tale of fate, it’s consequences, and abuse of power. I decided to read the other two plays in this selection: Antigone and Electra. Both plays are perfect companions to Oedipus as they deal with many of the same themes in addition to betrayal and fighting for what believes is right. Sophocles could really tell a fantastic tragedy.
May 5, 2017
Read Oedipus the King for class, really enjoyed it. (not enjoying this analysis im gonna have to do after submitting this review tho)
our book also includes antigone and though i read it sophomore year, i might reread it!
our book also includes antigone and though i read it sophomore year, i might reread it!
April 9, 2026
Elektra I love you
September 2, 2019
I got sick of teaching Romeo & Juliet because the damned coincidences and the stupidity (esp. of Romeo) and the dramatic irony weighing so heavily on the reader/sucker just got to me. So instead, I began teaching A Midsummer Night's Dream where everyone is an ass of a different color.
Well, reading (and in two cases, rereading) these long-time-no-see tragedies reminded me of that. If only this one knew what that one knew or that one thought to think of what this one thought to think of.
As for Antigone -- she is woman, hear her roar! Man, I love a lady with principles. And Oedipus, the saddest sack (read complex) that ever was or will be. Blind fury.
It's only Electra that seems to come off easy. The tragedy comes for her enemies, not her. And, until the end, I'd thought of dialing Eugene O'Neill up for rewrite. Whining Becomes Electra, let's try. Or a rarity for Sophocles: All's Well That Ends Well.
And boy, do things end in these plays....
Well, reading (and in two cases, rereading) these long-time-no-see tragedies reminded me of that. If only this one knew what that one knew or that one thought to think of what this one thought to think of.
As for Antigone -- she is woman, hear her roar! Man, I love a lady with principles. And Oedipus, the saddest sack (read complex) that ever was or will be. Blind fury.
It's only Electra that seems to come off easy. The tragedy comes for her enemies, not her. And, until the end, I'd thought of dialing Eugene O'Neill up for rewrite. Whining Becomes Electra, let's try. Or a rarity for Sophocles: All's Well That Ends Well.
And boy, do things end in these plays....
Read
October 19, 2021Antigone reread 2021
very fun, love Antigone forever and always <3
book 2 for my drama & transgression: from prometheus to faust module
Antigone
plot-wise there’s not a lot going on, but it was easy to get through. had some quite interesting moral conundrums going on.
book 2 for my explorations in literature class
very fun, love Antigone forever and always <3
book 2 for my drama & transgression: from prometheus to faust module
Antigone
plot-wise there’s not a lot going on, but it was easy to get through. had some quite interesting moral conundrums going on.
book 2 for my explorations in literature class
March 10, 2019
I only read Electra, but I really liked it. There were a lot more speaking parts for the women of the house of Atreus, which is just what I wanted. Too bad the translator used Christian language and symbolism when talking about the Greek gods.
November 11, 2023
Griekse Mythologie slayt altijd
November 16, 2023
justice for my man Oedipus 🙏🙏🙏
he didn't know it was his mother fr
he didn't know it was his mother fr
January 6, 2023
A lovely collection of plays, centered for the most part around women. An elegant and eminently readable translation, with a very helpful introduction and explanatory notes. Some rambling thoughts on each play collected below.
Antigone
Antigone’s brothers Polynices and Eteocles had killed each other fighting over the Theban crown, leaving their uncle Creon to take the mantle of king. Creon’s first decree is that Polynices’ corpse should be left to rot unattended, as punishment for besieging Thebes with foreign troops. Antigone bristles, and defies her uncle to give Polynices the proper burial rites, arguing that divine laws override human laws.
This was surprisingly meh. Maybe because I had very high expectations of it, and it did not really live up to them.
Oedipus the King
Oedipus rules over a Thebes wrecked by plague and all sorts of other misfortunes. His brother-in-law Creon goes to Delphi to consult the oracle of Apollo, who tells him the troubles in Thebes can be traced back to the murder of its former king, Laius. Oedipus sets about solving this murder, slowly unravelling both the mystery and his own life – because of course, it turns out that he killed Laius, his birth father, and in wedding Laius’ wife Iocasta married his own mother. Iocasta and Laius had been aware of a prophecy warning their son will kill his father and marry his mother, which is why they had baby Oedipus taken away to be killed – instead he ended up being adopted by the king of Corinth and brought up as his son. Oedipus too learnt of the prophecy as a young man, which prompted him to flee Corinth and his (unbeknownst to him) adoptive parents. He ended up in Thebes.
Oedipus the King is amazing. Seriously amazing. This is the second time I’m reading it, and I loved it as much as the first time.
But I have so many questions about prophecies – in this particular case the prophecy being made and shared is the whole reason the tragedy occurred. Had Oedipus’ parents never heard the prophecy, they would not have sent their son away. If Oedipus had grown up in Thebes, he would not have killed his father without facing death or banishment. He certainly would not have married his mother. Similarly, had young Oedipus, then a prince of Corinth, not heard the prophecy, he would have stayed at home with his adoptive parents. So what is the function of prophecy in this context? It’s supposed to relay to humans their destiny, as ordained by divine will, but in this case it set Oedipus’ tragic destiny in motion. Can prophecy really be seen as ‘reading the future’ if that future would not have existed without the prophecy?
Electra
This turned out to be my absolute favourite of the three plays, which was a surprise. I loved it so much I rushed to find some adaptation I could watch right away; I ended up watching Miklos Jancso’s Electra, my love, so now I have Mari Torocsik’s Electra stuck in my head forever. Bless.
Electra is a princess of Mycenae, daughter of the famous king Agamemnon and his wife queen Clytemnestra. She is also the younger sister of Iphigenia, who was sacrificed to Artemis to allow the Greeks to set sail for Troy. For this crime against her child, Clytemnestra murders Agamemnon as soon as he returns from the war at Troy. She does this with the help of his cousin Aegisthus, who she then marries. Electra manages to smuggle her baby brother Orestes out of Mycenae in the aftermath, thus protecting him from certain death, but she is forced to continue living in her mother’s household, unmarried, unhappy and forever bitter about her father’s murder. Fifteen years later, she is still in mourning, and praying Orestes will come kill her mother and the current king, Aegisthus, in retribution. As one may imagine, Electra is not very popular. When Orestes does finally come, he does not intend to reveal his identity right away, instead spreading rumours that he had died. Electra’s grief at these news is however so extreme Orestes is forced to confess his identity to her, nearly ruining his plan.
The play is so wonderfully layered – we are invited to watch Electra’s excessive grief, her murderous hatred, her resentment, yet at no point does she become an object of pity to the reader, even as the play drops hints she is not necessarily in the right. Unmarried and childless, with barely a memory of the father she mourns, it would be hard for Electra to understand Clytemnestra's pain. A husband should be a protector – the play makes it clear enough that women need male relatives to defend their interests and their safety. Yet Agamemnon killed one of Clytemnestra’s children to set sail for Troy, and he returned from the war facilitated by this sacrifice with another woman in tow. Clytemnestra would have to be made of stone to tolerate him, but Electra has no way of understanding this.
Electra very interestingly does not seem to be fully aware of the implications of her beliefs. She dictates that blood should be paid with blood – it does not seem to occur to her that this is exactly the principle Clytemnestra applied, Agamemnon’s blood for Iphigenia’s; nor does it seem to frighten her that if Orestes kills his mother and Aegisthus, someone else will rise in revenge against him, setting in motion an endless blood feud. Electra similarly states the murder of Iphigenia occurred because Agamemnon insulted Artemis thoughtlessly; it is Clytemnestra herself who by contrast attributes him nobler reasons for the sacrifice, such as love for his brother Menelaus, in whose honour the Trojan war was waged. Yet this, the fact that Electra has no problem believing her father was a boastful man who would offend a goddess, or kill his child to facilitate that goddess’ forgiveness, does not make Electra wonder about him, or about her memory of him. This lack of critical thinking leads me to believe her zeal against her mother and her uncle, while cloaked in purely ‘ideological’ reasons such as loyalty to her father, is rooted in petty, everyday grievances, such as the fact that Clytemnestra and Aegisthus keep Electra unmarried and destitute.
This leads me back to Miklos Jancso’s rendition of the myth. In Electra, my love, Electra is the revolutionary, the one person who refuses to bend her beliefs for the sake of practicality, speaking truth in the face of tyranny. Her ideological purity, unlike Sophocles’ Electra, cannot be tainted by humiliation – Jancso’s Electra states very clearly that a humiliated Electra and even a dead Electra is still Electra. This made me conflicted. Can Electra, as I understood her from Sophocles, be a symbol of revolution? Sophocles’ Electra does speak her truth, she is unbending, but as I said before I think a lot of her unhappiness boils down to pettier reasons than she lets on. But then it occurred to me that revolution can be – in fact often is – the accumulation of petty, everyday reasons - hunger; violence; the perception that future possibilities do not exist. So perhaps Sophocles’ Electra is not only a revolutionary, but a more realistic revolutionary than Jancso’s. Revolution was thrust upon her and nurtured by everyday grievances, until it exploded in violence.
A final note – I found it interesting how the play deals with gender dynamics. Electra’s sister tells her women are powerless. By contrast, Electra’s brother states that women too are capable of violence, ‘Ares lives in them as well’. Women see themselves as powerless and men see them as dangerous – seems to reflect the extremely misogynic Greek society pretty well.
Antigone
Antigone’s brothers Polynices and Eteocles had killed each other fighting over the Theban crown, leaving their uncle Creon to take the mantle of king. Creon’s first decree is that Polynices’ corpse should be left to rot unattended, as punishment for besieging Thebes with foreign troops. Antigone bristles, and defies her uncle to give Polynices the proper burial rites, arguing that divine laws override human laws.
This was surprisingly meh. Maybe because I had very high expectations of it, and it did not really live up to them.
Oedipus the King
Oedipus rules over a Thebes wrecked by plague and all sorts of other misfortunes. His brother-in-law Creon goes to Delphi to consult the oracle of Apollo, who tells him the troubles in Thebes can be traced back to the murder of its former king, Laius. Oedipus sets about solving this murder, slowly unravelling both the mystery and his own life – because of course, it turns out that he killed Laius, his birth father, and in wedding Laius’ wife Iocasta married his own mother. Iocasta and Laius had been aware of a prophecy warning their son will kill his father and marry his mother, which is why they had baby Oedipus taken away to be killed – instead he ended up being adopted by the king of Corinth and brought up as his son. Oedipus too learnt of the prophecy as a young man, which prompted him to flee Corinth and his (unbeknownst to him) adoptive parents. He ended up in Thebes.
Oedipus the King is amazing. Seriously amazing. This is the second time I’m reading it, and I loved it as much as the first time.
But I have so many questions about prophecies – in this particular case the prophecy being made and shared is the whole reason the tragedy occurred. Had Oedipus’ parents never heard the prophecy, they would not have sent their son away. If Oedipus had grown up in Thebes, he would not have killed his father without facing death or banishment. He certainly would not have married his mother. Similarly, had young Oedipus, then a prince of Corinth, not heard the prophecy, he would have stayed at home with his adoptive parents. So what is the function of prophecy in this context? It’s supposed to relay to humans their destiny, as ordained by divine will, but in this case it set Oedipus’ tragic destiny in motion. Can prophecy really be seen as ‘reading the future’ if that future would not have existed without the prophecy?
Electra
This turned out to be my absolute favourite of the three plays, which was a surprise. I loved it so much I rushed to find some adaptation I could watch right away; I ended up watching Miklos Jancso’s Electra, my love, so now I have Mari Torocsik’s Electra stuck in my head forever. Bless.
Electra is a princess of Mycenae, daughter of the famous king Agamemnon and his wife queen Clytemnestra. She is also the younger sister of Iphigenia, who was sacrificed to Artemis to allow the Greeks to set sail for Troy. For this crime against her child, Clytemnestra murders Agamemnon as soon as he returns from the war at Troy. She does this with the help of his cousin Aegisthus, who she then marries. Electra manages to smuggle her baby brother Orestes out of Mycenae in the aftermath, thus protecting him from certain death, but she is forced to continue living in her mother’s household, unmarried, unhappy and forever bitter about her father’s murder. Fifteen years later, she is still in mourning, and praying Orestes will come kill her mother and the current king, Aegisthus, in retribution. As one may imagine, Electra is not very popular. When Orestes does finally come, he does not intend to reveal his identity right away, instead spreading rumours that he had died. Electra’s grief at these news is however so extreme Orestes is forced to confess his identity to her, nearly ruining his plan.
The play is so wonderfully layered – we are invited to watch Electra’s excessive grief, her murderous hatred, her resentment, yet at no point does she become an object of pity to the reader, even as the play drops hints she is not necessarily in the right. Unmarried and childless, with barely a memory of the father she mourns, it would be hard for Electra to understand Clytemnestra's pain. A husband should be a protector – the play makes it clear enough that women need male relatives to defend their interests and their safety. Yet Agamemnon killed one of Clytemnestra’s children to set sail for Troy, and he returned from the war facilitated by this sacrifice with another woman in tow. Clytemnestra would have to be made of stone to tolerate him, but Electra has no way of understanding this.
Electra very interestingly does not seem to be fully aware of the implications of her beliefs. She dictates that blood should be paid with blood – it does not seem to occur to her that this is exactly the principle Clytemnestra applied, Agamemnon’s blood for Iphigenia’s; nor does it seem to frighten her that if Orestes kills his mother and Aegisthus, someone else will rise in revenge against him, setting in motion an endless blood feud. Electra similarly states the murder of Iphigenia occurred because Agamemnon insulted Artemis thoughtlessly; it is Clytemnestra herself who by contrast attributes him nobler reasons for the sacrifice, such as love for his brother Menelaus, in whose honour the Trojan war was waged. Yet this, the fact that Electra has no problem believing her father was a boastful man who would offend a goddess, or kill his child to facilitate that goddess’ forgiveness, does not make Electra wonder about him, or about her memory of him. This lack of critical thinking leads me to believe her zeal against her mother and her uncle, while cloaked in purely ‘ideological’ reasons such as loyalty to her father, is rooted in petty, everyday grievances, such as the fact that Clytemnestra and Aegisthus keep Electra unmarried and destitute.
This leads me back to Miklos Jancso’s rendition of the myth. In Electra, my love, Electra is the revolutionary, the one person who refuses to bend her beliefs for the sake of practicality, speaking truth in the face of tyranny. Her ideological purity, unlike Sophocles’ Electra, cannot be tainted by humiliation – Jancso’s Electra states very clearly that a humiliated Electra and even a dead Electra is still Electra. This made me conflicted. Can Electra, as I understood her from Sophocles, be a symbol of revolution? Sophocles’ Electra does speak her truth, she is unbending, but as I said before I think a lot of her unhappiness boils down to pettier reasons than she lets on. But then it occurred to me that revolution can be – in fact often is – the accumulation of petty, everyday reasons - hunger; violence; the perception that future possibilities do not exist. So perhaps Sophocles’ Electra is not only a revolutionary, but a more realistic revolutionary than Jancso’s. Revolution was thrust upon her and nurtured by everyday grievances, until it exploded in violence.
A final note – I found it interesting how the play deals with gender dynamics. Electra’s sister tells her women are powerless. By contrast, Electra’s brother states that women too are capable of violence, ‘Ares lives in them as well’. Women see themselves as powerless and men see them as dangerous – seems to reflect the extremely misogynic Greek society pretty well.
July 8, 2022
أوديب ملكاً ؛ الأنمودج الأنسب للتراجيديا اليونانية، بكل ما وضعه أرسطو من شروط ومعايير .. قمت بقراءتها قديماً للمتعة وقرأتُها مؤخراً للدراسة والتفحص ..
المسرحية مميزة، فقصتها مثيرة وحبكتها المعقدة قوية، أما شخصياتها - خصوصاً البطل - فكاملة الأوصاف دراميا ! باختصار، المسرحية تراجيديا نموذجية، أشاد بها أرسطو ويشيد بها القارئ المعاصر ليومنا هذا ..
المسرحية مميزة، فقصتها مثيرة وحبكتها المعقدة قوية، أما شخصياتها - خصوصاً البطل - فكاملة الأوصاف دراميا ! باختصار، المسرحية تراجيديا نموذجية، أشاد بها أرسطو ويشيد بها القارئ المعاصر ليومنا هذا ..
May 13, 2011
It’s no disgrace for a man, even a wise man, to learn many things and not be too rigid. You’ve seen many trees by a raging winter torrent, how many sway with the flood and salvage every twig, but not the stubborn—they’re ripped out, roots and all. Bend or break.
This incredibly powerful and moving play was written well over two thousand years ago, yet it is as relevant and relatable as ever. Antigone's immovable conviction is tragically squared against Creon's regal pride, both as stubborn as oxen, while the audience is maddeningly positioned to see the folly and the "well, he/she's got a point" of both sides. This work would make an excellent companion piece to Faulkner's "As I Lay Dying," which also deals with family, and in particular, the rights accorded to the dead in burial - how the manner in which we honor the dead is a mirror of who we are. There is so much to say about this play, I actually found it more compelling than its predecessor, Oedipus Rex, Sophocles' other famous play based on Antigone's accursed father. Ay, there lies the rub! For in Oedipus Rex, it seems as though nothing can be done by man to avert the cruel hand of fate. However in Antigone, people are just being too selfish and stubborn, ignoring all kinds of good advice, and swearing up and down that the gods are most definitely on their side. Meanwhile, Sophocles nudges the audience to avoid a similar fate by having King Creon's son announce that unfortunately, man isn't born perfect, so we'd all do well to listen to some good advice.
But my favorite part of this play, the part that really sang for me, was the Chorus' ode to man, so reminiscent of Hamlet's beautiful and, ultimately sad, "What a piece of work is a man" soliloquy. Hamlet glibly ends it by saying that man, despite his natural magnificence and beauty, doesn't interest him. In Antigone, the Chorus is marveling at how man has mastered the sea and the animals and the earth, and has even fashioned a lawful society and an intricate language by which to communicate, but there remains one thing that goes yet unconquered by man - Death. Mwahahaha!
So, if TIME magazine is right, and man becomes immortal by 2045, I guess Antigone will finally become an obsolete literary relic of the ancient past that has no bearing on the modern human condition. But until that frightening time arrives, this is a work for the ages. Man the master, ingenious past all measure, past all dreams, the skills within his grasp - he forges on, now to destruction, now again to greatness.
This incredibly powerful and moving play was written well over two thousand years ago, yet it is as relevant and relatable as ever. Antigone's immovable conviction is tragically squared against Creon's regal pride, both as stubborn as oxen, while the audience is maddeningly positioned to see the folly and the "well, he/she's got a point" of both sides. This work would make an excellent companion piece to Faulkner's "As I Lay Dying," which also deals with family, and in particular, the rights accorded to the dead in burial - how the manner in which we honor the dead is a mirror of who we are. There is so much to say about this play, I actually found it more compelling than its predecessor, Oedipus Rex, Sophocles' other famous play based on Antigone's accursed father. Ay, there lies the rub! For in Oedipus Rex, it seems as though nothing can be done by man to avert the cruel hand of fate. However in Antigone, people are just being too selfish and stubborn, ignoring all kinds of good advice, and swearing up and down that the gods are most definitely on their side. Meanwhile, Sophocles nudges the audience to avoid a similar fate by having King Creon's son announce that unfortunately, man isn't born perfect, so we'd all do well to listen to some good advice.
But my favorite part of this play, the part that really sang for me, was the Chorus' ode to man, so reminiscent of Hamlet's beautiful and, ultimately sad, "What a piece of work is a man" soliloquy. Hamlet glibly ends it by saying that man, despite his natural magnificence and beauty, doesn't interest him. In Antigone, the Chorus is marveling at how man has mastered the sea and the animals and the earth, and has even fashioned a lawful society and an intricate language by which to communicate, but there remains one thing that goes yet unconquered by man - Death. Mwahahaha!
So, if TIME magazine is right, and man becomes immortal by 2045, I guess Antigone will finally become an obsolete literary relic of the ancient past that has no bearing on the modern human condition. But until that frightening time arrives, this is a work for the ages. Man the master, ingenious past all measure, past all dreams, the skills within his grasp - he forges on, now to destruction, now again to greatness.
March 8, 2018
Antigone just wants to bury her dead brother and ends up entombed and dead (along with her boyfriend); Oedipus just wants to figure out why Thebes is being plagued and ends up discovering he's killed his pop and married his mum (and then blinds himself); and Electra just wants someone to kill her shitty mom and reunites with her long-lost bro (who kills her shitty mom).
GREEKS, MAN. GREEKS.
GREEKS, MAN. GREEKS.
July 11, 2023
"You cannot move me. I will know the truth."
The truth bubbles up slowly, like dross atop molten metal. It burns the hands dipped in to draw off the imperfections. It's much easier to discard the disagreeable, to insult the wise when their words chafe against your oversized ego. Even more than a diviner, poor Tiresias absorbs so much punishment. Only Orestes remains open to correction, and his dark revenge succeeds as a result: "You then shall hear my plan, and as you listen / Give it your sharp attention, to amend / Whatever seems amiss."
Oedipus knows the truth from the start, but denies it. The terrifying thing isn't the particular doom the gods predict, but that the gods are true. Freud and others miss the point, being enamored at the gimmicky violence, the incest. But the real terror slumbers deeper. It hides among the lines of dialogue, eating up delayed action like manflesh. It's so tempting to "live at random, live as best one can," as Oedipus' wife suggests. Hers is a passive attempt to escape from the truth, while Oedipus' is active. He runs away from fate, thinking he can avoid the Oracle's warning by leaving his adopted hometown. But lies that were told to protect him only compound his suffering.
Cornered, Oedipus tries to delay the truth. He's not stupid, he asks "How can I believe this with no proof?" He trusts in himself; after all, he was the one who banished the Sphinx! It's mentioned time and again, a crutch he allows himself, the proof of his superior intellect and his favor with the gods. But wit is not the same as wisdom, as he painfully learns.
And learning is pain. Often it's excruciating. The overwhelming pain of knowledge leads many characters to suicide in these plays. Iocasta hangs herself beside "The bed where she had borne a double brood, / Husband from husband, children from a child." The dramatic irony is so tightly wound it can't help but explode upon impact. But curiously, Oedipus proves himself the biggest coward of these three plays. He doesn't kill himself, instead "only" blinding himself. When he finally sees this truth, there is no more need of sight. He wishes he could deafen himself, could become completely insensate. Knowledge, though so desperately sought, renders inactive once it's achieved. We in the postmodern age can deeply relate. But for us, the supposed knowledge is that there are no gods, no saviors, no fate, no rules. Agoraphobia is our plague. For Oedipus, the opposite: the gods are true, everything is fated before our times, there is no freedom.
Oedipus, like us, attempts a grammatical escape:
You said that he reported it was brigands
Who killed the King. If he still speaks of 'men',
It was not I; a single man, and 'men',
Are not the same. But if he says it was
A traveller journeying alone, why then,
The burden of the guilt must fall on me.
Fear of the truth while ostensibly chasing the truth. It makes the soul ugly, makes the doer insult honest friends, transforms wit into savage cruelty: "You live in darkness; you can do no harm / To me or any man who has his eyes." But Oedipus' folly is that none have eyes; those with eyes to see are the more misguided, ironically, for they think they see the world. Tiresias' entrance is marked by "Ah! what a burden knowledge is, when knowledge / Can be of no avail!" His blindness resulted from compounded knowledge, a gradual filling up of the mind so that the eyes clouded over. Oedipus' revelation is too sudden for sight to survive, too traumatic. Knowledge is a burden, is traumatic, is something which causes slowness in action, rather than speed of action. Oedipus' hyperactivity turned into wrathful resentment the moment he realized the truth; he didn't acknowledge that truth until he had no other choice. The entire play is the building up of pressure, the kettle steaming on the stovetop with no one brave enough to remove it.
Many of us are stuck in that same dread limbo that Oedipus roils in throughout the play: "Strange, disturbing, what the wise / Prophet has said. What can he mean? / Niether can I believe, nor can I disbelieve; / I do not know what to say." We feel permanently stuck in this liminal state, our premonitions preventing sleep, but not enough evidence to clearly damn us. We squint at the creature in the dark bedroom corner, unsure if it's clothes on a hanger or something worse. Usually we're too tired to turn on the light or to hang up the clothes, so we wallow in fear. Oedipus was lucky enough to be damned outright, to get the blinding over with. We, however, are stuck in the entryway, not able to enter fully, nor able to escape. We knock and knock, wishing we could take off our shoes.
The ending is most confusing, with Oedipus still alive, too cowardly to die in his shame, too shamed to look upon the sun. His daughters (who are also his sisters) are brought out. They remain silent at the horror, propping him up. His blood-black beard must still be wet, complicating their embraces, staining the innocent with the sins of their forefather, their brother. The last lines are as follows:
CREON. Ah no! When I
Am ignorant, I do not speak.
OEDIPUS. Then lead me in; I say no more.
CREON. Release the children then, and come.
OEDIPUS. What? Take these children from me? No!
CREON. Seek not to have your way in all things:
Where you had your way before,
Your mastery broke before the end.
Creon's refusal to speak when ignorant is a sort of wisdom Oedipus may have benefited from. But after that, things tangle. Why are they bringing Oedipus indoors, when he has banished himself from the city? Why does he have to let go of his children, his siblings, his only family left? Is everything he does tainted, every act, every touch, so that no matter what he wants, is damned? And where are his sons, the ones who would take over as king in his wake?
Antigone answers that question. They have killed each other while striving to be king. Creon, suddenly thrust into leadership, loses the wisdom he had in the previous play. The distance he had had proved to be the source of his wisdom, and now on the throne, he displays the same short-sighted rage as his dead brother-in-law Oedipus. In the aftermath of the senseless fratricide of Oedipus' two sons, Creon denounces one and makes a hagiography for the other. The distinction is completely arbitrary, completely artificial. Oedipus' daughter Antigone detects this falsehood. She, seeing the truth of the gods, their fateful power on display in her own father's life, openly disregards Creon's unjust denouncement of her brother. Antigone stands on her principles, a true role model:
Nor could I think that decree of yours---
A man---could override the laws of Heaven
Unwritten and unchanging. Not of today
Or yesterday is their authority;
They are eternal; no man saw their birth.
Was I to stand before the gods' tribunal
For disobeying them, because I feared
A man? I knew that I should have to die,
Even without your edict; if I die
Before my time, why then, I count it gain
Antigone displays the bravery of the Christian Martyrs. She knows she has done what is right; she has visited the tomb of a dead man wrongfully accused, a dead man guarded by soldiers. The parallels are curious. She likewise defies peer pressure, whether man-made laws or threats of shame: "Have you no shame, not to conform with others?" Her sister attempts a middle ground, which proves cowardice. To her, Antigone pronounces "I love not those who love in words alone." The sisters in Electra face a similar dilemma, where one acts on her words, but the other hides behind her words.
Haemon, Creon's son, interposes for Antigone, warning Creon similarly to how Creon warned Oedipus. The generations roll on, but the same folly perpetuates itself. The worst danger proves to not be overmuch knowledge, but the knowledge of overmuch knowledge; i.e. the pride that comes with wisdom, a pride which blinds and makes one worse than an ignoramus:
The man
Who thinks that he alone is wise, that he
Is best in speech or counsel, such a man
Brought to the proof is found but emptiness.
There's no disgrace, even if one is wise,
In learning more, and knowing when to yield.
Strangely, wisdom works like the sort of optical illusion which only shows up if you don't look directly at it. Too-direct an approach kills the truth. Likewise, too-direct leadership destroys the government:
CREON. Am I to rule for them, not for myself?
HAEMON. That is not government, but tyranny.
...
CREON. Villain! Do you oppose your father's will?
HAEMON. Only because you are opposing Justice.
CREON. When I regard my own prerogative?
HAEMON. Opposing God's, you disregard your own.
Wisdom proves something so difficult because of the impossibility of explicitly stating it. And, like for Oedipus, once it is learned it is too late. The bodies have already been laid out, the sins have already been revenged. Justice proves as swift as the fates are inescapable. Tiresias and his blind wisdom hobble on stage only long enough to accuse Creon of his folly, and he walks off stage before he can be insulted further. He hauntingly asks himself "Does any man reflect, does any know..." He asks this rhetorically, for he knows no men reflect, none know, otherwise his slow, blind wisdom would not be needed.
Electra, the final play of the book, is much louder. The title character laments, insults, plans, and rejoices, all at maximum volume. Her loudness almost gives her away, but her revenge is just. Or is it? She uses the following to condemn her mother's murder of her father (Agamemnon), but turns it around to justify her revenge against the same mother (condemning her in a different sense):
Be careful; if you set
This up for law, Blood in return for blood,
You may repent it; you would be the first
To die, if you were given your deserts.
As Christ knew, "an eye for an eye" threatens to spiral out of control, creating an recursive revenge loop. Someone must be the first to break the cycle. Electra and her brother Orestes decidedly continue the cycle.
So why are they not stopped by the gods? Is Sophocles implicitly supporting this revenge, while only criticizing it in language? In a parallel to the denunciation in Antigone, Electra rants at her sister: "You hate them, so you tell me: / Your tongue may hate them; what you do supports / Our father's enemies and murderers." Perhaps Sophocles couldn't bring himself to the same conclusion Christ reached; to love one's enemies? That's too revolutionary, too un-Greek.
This play is probably the worst of the three, in several senses: it's the least gripping, has the most excessive lamentation (Oedipus has very little but it's very effective), and its morality is the most dubious. Sophocles of course gets you in a wrathful mood, so you grimly cheer on the murders at the end, but a higher part of yourself questions that. Should I be jeering, cheering them on? Is this deception and matricide merely a pretense to perpetuate chaos?
Orestes proves himself a sort of anti-Christ, leaving the empty tomb, coming "back from the dead" (dispelling the rumors of his death, which he himself propagated), only to bring vengeance and secure his own earthly kingdom. His kingdom is furthered by subtrifuge, by artifice: "This is Orestes only by a fiction. // ...It is Orestes!---dead, by artifice, / And by that artifice restored to us." The urn which supposedly holds his ashes is a decoy, a fake, a prop in this play-within-a-play which he is re-writing, which he is directing. Electra, the ad-hoc executive producer, goads his darker side on. You hear their mother's death off stage. She takes a long time to die. Even just reading this, it feels unsettling. You literally hear them "turn their laughter into silence." This contrasts sharply with Electra's loud wailing, creates a haunting void. The play ends silently, with the last murder occurring off stage, after the final line. Electra has delayed her satisfaction, but now she smiles a grim, blood-splattered smile. "There will / Be time enough to smile when we have conquered." But where does this conquering end? Will she turn on Orestes if things go south? What of the guards who certainly will come running to the sound of these murders? Where does the bloodshed end?
The "Tutor" cries out, like the ground receiving Abel's blood: "You reckless fools! ... Are you demented?" But he cries out to chastise them for being too loud, not for their bloodthirsty plan. At the end, Electra silences Aegisthus, the regicide (now become a victim of regicide himself); her only weapon proves to be her language, and she uses it (literally, to fill the air so no one else can speak) to silence others. One can imagine the sound of birds taking over after the characters walk off stage; they were originally mentioned on the first page, but now, probably in the heat of the afternoon, they're getting settled in the branches, calming down for a siesta, for a nap, for a return to silence. But, as you look up from the book, you realize it's been silent this whole time, it's been an artifice, "Orestes only by a fiction." But the terror was real, the wisdom was real, and the knowledge... it's what we don't want to be true, but know to be true. Will you open your eyes, or close them?
The truth bubbles up slowly, like dross atop molten metal. It burns the hands dipped in to draw off the imperfections. It's much easier to discard the disagreeable, to insult the wise when their words chafe against your oversized ego. Even more than a diviner, poor Tiresias absorbs so much punishment. Only Orestes remains open to correction, and his dark revenge succeeds as a result: "You then shall hear my plan, and as you listen / Give it your sharp attention, to amend / Whatever seems amiss."
Oedipus knows the truth from the start, but denies it. The terrifying thing isn't the particular doom the gods predict, but that the gods are true. Freud and others miss the point, being enamored at the gimmicky violence, the incest. But the real terror slumbers deeper. It hides among the lines of dialogue, eating up delayed action like manflesh. It's so tempting to "live at random, live as best one can," as Oedipus' wife suggests. Hers is a passive attempt to escape from the truth, while Oedipus' is active. He runs away from fate, thinking he can avoid the Oracle's warning by leaving his adopted hometown. But lies that were told to protect him only compound his suffering.
Cornered, Oedipus tries to delay the truth. He's not stupid, he asks "How can I believe this with no proof?" He trusts in himself; after all, he was the one who banished the Sphinx! It's mentioned time and again, a crutch he allows himself, the proof of his superior intellect and his favor with the gods. But wit is not the same as wisdom, as he painfully learns.
And learning is pain. Often it's excruciating. The overwhelming pain of knowledge leads many characters to suicide in these plays. Iocasta hangs herself beside "The bed where she had borne a double brood, / Husband from husband, children from a child." The dramatic irony is so tightly wound it can't help but explode upon impact. But curiously, Oedipus proves himself the biggest coward of these three plays. He doesn't kill himself, instead "only" blinding himself. When he finally sees this truth, there is no more need of sight. He wishes he could deafen himself, could become completely insensate. Knowledge, though so desperately sought, renders inactive once it's achieved. We in the postmodern age can deeply relate. But for us, the supposed knowledge is that there are no gods, no saviors, no fate, no rules. Agoraphobia is our plague. For Oedipus, the opposite: the gods are true, everything is fated before our times, there is no freedom.
Oedipus, like us, attempts a grammatical escape:
You said that he reported it was brigands
Who killed the King. If he still speaks of 'men',
It was not I; a single man, and 'men',
Are not the same. But if he says it was
A traveller journeying alone, why then,
The burden of the guilt must fall on me.
Fear of the truth while ostensibly chasing the truth. It makes the soul ugly, makes the doer insult honest friends, transforms wit into savage cruelty: "You live in darkness; you can do no harm / To me or any man who has his eyes." But Oedipus' folly is that none have eyes; those with eyes to see are the more misguided, ironically, for they think they see the world. Tiresias' entrance is marked by "Ah! what a burden knowledge is, when knowledge / Can be of no avail!" His blindness resulted from compounded knowledge, a gradual filling up of the mind so that the eyes clouded over. Oedipus' revelation is too sudden for sight to survive, too traumatic. Knowledge is a burden, is traumatic, is something which causes slowness in action, rather than speed of action. Oedipus' hyperactivity turned into wrathful resentment the moment he realized the truth; he didn't acknowledge that truth until he had no other choice. The entire play is the building up of pressure, the kettle steaming on the stovetop with no one brave enough to remove it.
Many of us are stuck in that same dread limbo that Oedipus roils in throughout the play: "Strange, disturbing, what the wise / Prophet has said. What can he mean? / Niether can I believe, nor can I disbelieve; / I do not know what to say." We feel permanently stuck in this liminal state, our premonitions preventing sleep, but not enough evidence to clearly damn us. We squint at the creature in the dark bedroom corner, unsure if it's clothes on a hanger or something worse. Usually we're too tired to turn on the light or to hang up the clothes, so we wallow in fear. Oedipus was lucky enough to be damned outright, to get the blinding over with. We, however, are stuck in the entryway, not able to enter fully, nor able to escape. We knock and knock, wishing we could take off our shoes.
The ending is most confusing, with Oedipus still alive, too cowardly to die in his shame, too shamed to look upon the sun. His daughters (who are also his sisters) are brought out. They remain silent at the horror, propping him up. His blood-black beard must still be wet, complicating their embraces, staining the innocent with the sins of their forefather, their brother. The last lines are as follows:
CREON. Ah no! When I
Am ignorant, I do not speak.
OEDIPUS. Then lead me in; I say no more.
CREON. Release the children then, and come.
OEDIPUS. What? Take these children from me? No!
CREON. Seek not to have your way in all things:
Where you had your way before,
Your mastery broke before the end.
Creon's refusal to speak when ignorant is a sort of wisdom Oedipus may have benefited from. But after that, things tangle. Why are they bringing Oedipus indoors, when he has banished himself from the city? Why does he have to let go of his children, his siblings, his only family left? Is everything he does tainted, every act, every touch, so that no matter what he wants, is damned? And where are his sons, the ones who would take over as king in his wake?
Antigone answers that question. They have killed each other while striving to be king. Creon, suddenly thrust into leadership, loses the wisdom he had in the previous play. The distance he had had proved to be the source of his wisdom, and now on the throne, he displays the same short-sighted rage as his dead brother-in-law Oedipus. In the aftermath of the senseless fratricide of Oedipus' two sons, Creon denounces one and makes a hagiography for the other. The distinction is completely arbitrary, completely artificial. Oedipus' daughter Antigone detects this falsehood. She, seeing the truth of the gods, their fateful power on display in her own father's life, openly disregards Creon's unjust denouncement of her brother. Antigone stands on her principles, a true role model:
Nor could I think that decree of yours---
A man---could override the laws of Heaven
Unwritten and unchanging. Not of today
Or yesterday is their authority;
They are eternal; no man saw their birth.
Was I to stand before the gods' tribunal
For disobeying them, because I feared
A man? I knew that I should have to die,
Even without your edict; if I die
Before my time, why then, I count it gain
Antigone displays the bravery of the Christian Martyrs. She knows she has done what is right; she has visited the tomb of a dead man wrongfully accused, a dead man guarded by soldiers. The parallels are curious. She likewise defies peer pressure, whether man-made laws or threats of shame: "Have you no shame, not to conform with others?" Her sister attempts a middle ground, which proves cowardice. To her, Antigone pronounces "I love not those who love in words alone." The sisters in Electra face a similar dilemma, where one acts on her words, but the other hides behind her words.
Haemon, Creon's son, interposes for Antigone, warning Creon similarly to how Creon warned Oedipus. The generations roll on, but the same folly perpetuates itself. The worst danger proves to not be overmuch knowledge, but the knowledge of overmuch knowledge; i.e. the pride that comes with wisdom, a pride which blinds and makes one worse than an ignoramus:
The man
Who thinks that he alone is wise, that he
Is best in speech or counsel, such a man
Brought to the proof is found but emptiness.
There's no disgrace, even if one is wise,
In learning more, and knowing when to yield.
Strangely, wisdom works like the sort of optical illusion which only shows up if you don't look directly at it. Too-direct an approach kills the truth. Likewise, too-direct leadership destroys the government:
CREON. Am I to rule for them, not for myself?
HAEMON. That is not government, but tyranny.
...
CREON. Villain! Do you oppose your father's will?
HAEMON. Only because you are opposing Justice.
CREON. When I regard my own prerogative?
HAEMON. Opposing God's, you disregard your own.
Wisdom proves something so difficult because of the impossibility of explicitly stating it. And, like for Oedipus, once it is learned it is too late. The bodies have already been laid out, the sins have already been revenged. Justice proves as swift as the fates are inescapable. Tiresias and his blind wisdom hobble on stage only long enough to accuse Creon of his folly, and he walks off stage before he can be insulted further. He hauntingly asks himself "Does any man reflect, does any know..." He asks this rhetorically, for he knows no men reflect, none know, otherwise his slow, blind wisdom would not be needed.
Electra, the final play of the book, is much louder. The title character laments, insults, plans, and rejoices, all at maximum volume. Her loudness almost gives her away, but her revenge is just. Or is it? She uses the following to condemn her mother's murder of her father (Agamemnon), but turns it around to justify her revenge against the same mother (condemning her in a different sense):
Be careful; if you set
This up for law, Blood in return for blood,
You may repent it; you would be the first
To die, if you were given your deserts.
As Christ knew, "an eye for an eye" threatens to spiral out of control, creating an recursive revenge loop. Someone must be the first to break the cycle. Electra and her brother Orestes decidedly continue the cycle.
So why are they not stopped by the gods? Is Sophocles implicitly supporting this revenge, while only criticizing it in language? In a parallel to the denunciation in Antigone, Electra rants at her sister: "You hate them, so you tell me: / Your tongue may hate them; what you do supports / Our father's enemies and murderers." Perhaps Sophocles couldn't bring himself to the same conclusion Christ reached; to love one's enemies? That's too revolutionary, too un-Greek.
This play is probably the worst of the three, in several senses: it's the least gripping, has the most excessive lamentation (Oedipus has very little but it's very effective), and its morality is the most dubious. Sophocles of course gets you in a wrathful mood, so you grimly cheer on the murders at the end, but a higher part of yourself questions that. Should I be jeering, cheering them on? Is this deception and matricide merely a pretense to perpetuate chaos?
Orestes proves himself a sort of anti-Christ, leaving the empty tomb, coming "back from the dead" (dispelling the rumors of his death, which he himself propagated), only to bring vengeance and secure his own earthly kingdom. His kingdom is furthered by subtrifuge, by artifice: "This is Orestes only by a fiction. // ...It is Orestes!---dead, by artifice, / And by that artifice restored to us." The urn which supposedly holds his ashes is a decoy, a fake, a prop in this play-within-a-play which he is re-writing, which he is directing. Electra, the ad-hoc executive producer, goads his darker side on. You hear their mother's death off stage. She takes a long time to die. Even just reading this, it feels unsettling. You literally hear them "turn their laughter into silence." This contrasts sharply with Electra's loud wailing, creates a haunting void. The play ends silently, with the last murder occurring off stage, after the final line. Electra has delayed her satisfaction, but now she smiles a grim, blood-splattered smile. "There will / Be time enough to smile when we have conquered." But where does this conquering end? Will she turn on Orestes if things go south? What of the guards who certainly will come running to the sound of these murders? Where does the bloodshed end?
The "Tutor" cries out, like the ground receiving Abel's blood: "You reckless fools! ... Are you demented?" But he cries out to chastise them for being too loud, not for their bloodthirsty plan. At the end, Electra silences Aegisthus, the regicide (now become a victim of regicide himself); her only weapon proves to be her language, and she uses it (literally, to fill the air so no one else can speak) to silence others. One can imagine the sound of birds taking over after the characters walk off stage; they were originally mentioned on the first page, but now, probably in the heat of the afternoon, they're getting settled in the branches, calming down for a siesta, for a nap, for a return to silence. But, as you look up from the book, you realize it's been silent this whole time, it's been an artifice, "Orestes only by a fiction." But the terror was real, the wisdom was real, and the knowledge... it's what we don't want to be true, but know to be true. Will you open your eyes, or close them?
July 23, 2025
١. أوديب الملك
المأساة هنا ليست فقط عن قدرٍ مكتوب، بل عن سؤال الإنسان عن ذاته، عن لغزيَّة الوجود. أوديب بحثه عن الحقيقة يُشبِه بحث الإنسان العربي عن ذاته بعد انهيارُه، وفي محنةٍ بين الإرادة والقدر. يُصوّر المؤلف لحظة الانكشاف القاتلة ليست كمشهد ذروة درامي فحسب، بل كمحطة فلسفية: هل يتحقّق الإنسان إذا عرف الحقيقة مهما كانت قاسية؟ أم أن الغفلة نوع من الخلاص؟
٢. أنتيغون
تصدمنا أبطال هذه المسرحية بصراع صارم بين واجب الفرد والدولة، بين القانون الإلهي والقانون البشري. هنا، تبدو فلسفة العدالة مُنجزة على خشبة المسرح. تلك الشخصية التي تختار الموت على التنازل عن شرف الأسرة، نستطيع أن نراها المرأة العربية التي تُضحّي من أجل شعبها. فيأخذ الترجمة الحوار بين أنتيغون وكرونوس صدىً عربيًّا يتميّز بالجزالة والوقار، مثلما كان طه حسين يجد في اللغة العربية صوت الشجاعة في مواجهة الظلم.
٣. إلكترا (أو ربما فيلوكتيتس أو آياج)
إذا اتخذنا «إلكترا»، نجد أن التراجيديا هنا تدور حول الانتقام، الثأر، والضمير الذي يزن ميزان العدالة. إلكترا ليست مجرد شخصية أسطورية، بل رمز لاستحقاق العدالة النفسية. وبينما يطغى الحزن على النص، يطل سؤال فلسفي: هل يُمكِن للنية أن تبرّر العمل إذا كان هو انتقامًا من قتلٍ قديم؟ وكيف يؤثر ذلك على النفس البشرية؟
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أسلوب طه حسين في الترجمة والتحليل
لقد تمت ترجمة هذه المسرحيات بلغة عربية فصحى راقية، لكن ليس تجميدًا لغويًّا جامدًا، بل بأسلوب طه حسين: لغة بسيطة، صافية، قوية، تشدّ القارئ إلى داخل النص وتجعله يعيش الحكاية مع أبطالها. الحوار في هذه الترجمة اكتسب وقعًا كلاسيكيًا، دون أن يكون ثقيلاً على القارئ المعاصر، في توازن نادر.
وكمثل على مدى قوة الترجمة، نجد وصفًا لحظة حَدَث الانكشاف في «أوديب الملك»، أو خِطاب أنتيغون الأخيرة، مكتوبًا بنبرة مدركة للتراجيديا الإنسانية، مستندًا إلى فلسفة التناص والخطيئة والمصالحة، كما كان طه حسين يحلّل في كتبه: بالسؤال أولًا، ثم بالجواب المرهف، ثم بالإستدلال الأخلاقي.
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الدروس الفلسفية والتراجيدية في الكتاب
القدر الإرادي والوعي الإنساني: تلك العلاقة التي تفكّكها المسرحيات حين تكون المعرفة قاتلة، والإدراك مُسكِن.
العدالة بين الأفراد والدولة: سؤال يهمّ العقل العربي، إذ تتكرّر الصدامات من أجل كرامة الفرد أو حماية القانون.
الثأر والضمير: متلازمان في هذه النصوص، حيث ينتصر الضمير الداخلي أكثر من مسرح الدم.
التضحية في سبيل الحقيقة: نجدها لدى أنتيغون وإلكترا، بل وأوديب نفسه في لحظة المواجهة.
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إن هذا الكتاب، من خلال هذه الترجمة القوية، هو هدية لكل قارئ عربي يبحث عن تراجيديات اليونان بثراء فلسفي وروح إنسانية، بعيدًا عن الترجمات الأكاديمية الجافة. القارئ يجد نفسه أمام أفكارٍ كبرى: مثل العبث، والقدر، والعدالة، والوفاء، والعنف الأخلاقي، كل ذلك مجرّدًا من الطابع المحلي، لكنه قابل للاشتغال على الواقع العربي.
كأن طه حسين يعيد سرد هذه المسرحيات بلغة تعجّ بحسّ عربي، لكنها قوية عالميًّا. أقيم الترجمة بامتياز لأسلوبها الأدبي، وتنظيمها المترابط، وتحليلها الفلسفي دون إفراط، ودون تجريد مفرط. كانت تراجيديا تُقرأ بعيون مستنيرة، لا بقلوبٍ عاطفية وعمياء فقط.
إن النصّ يفتح حوارًا مع القارئ، لا يُلقنَه فقط، بل يدعوه ليسأل نفسه:
هل أقدّر معنى الحقيقة حتى النهاية؟
أيّ نوع من العدالة أسعى إليه؟
كم أنا مسؤول عن أفعالي إذا كنت عاجزًا عن تغيير قدري؟
في قراءة هذا الكتاب، أسمع صوت طه حسين يهمس في آذاني: "اقرأ لتفهم الإنسان، فإن المسرح رسالة، والفلسفة ضمير الشعوب." نقدّم له تقديرًا كبيرًا، لأنه جرّط التراجيديا الإغريقية بترجمة عربية أصيلة وقراءتها بروح نقدية تتحاور مع الإنسانية
August 13, 2026
Een van mijn verwaarloosde kinderen herontdekt!! Oedi lezen gister was mss de oorzaak voor m’n lichte eclipsmanie👀
November 21, 2020
King Oedipus' sons Eteocles and Polynices agree to share the throne of Thebes after their father's death. Initially, the brothers plan to alternate years, but after Eteocles' first year in power, he refuses to give up the throne. This causes a civil war.
When Act I begins, the civil war is already over. Both brothers are dead, and their sisters, Antigone and Ismene, are in mourning. Their uncle Creon has assumed control of Thebes.
While Antigone is awaiting execution, the blind prophet Tiresias informs Creon that he has angered the gods. Creon decides to release Antigone, only to discover that she has committed suicide.
When Act I begins, the civil war is already over. Both brothers are dead, and their sisters, Antigone and Ismene, are in mourning. Their uncle Creon has assumed control of Thebes.
While Antigone is awaiting execution, the blind prophet Tiresias informs Creon that he has angered the gods. Creon decides to release Antigone, only to discover that she has committed suicide.
October 16, 2024
Oedipus Rex - lowkey echt lik nog tof
November 18, 2024
oedipus las zo vlot thank the lord
February 3, 2022
5, 5, 5.
October 7, 2025
A simple collection of plays with surprising depth. I’d say worth the read.
The amount of plot twists made me feel like I was being thrown around left and right on a zigzagging roller coaster. There are no complex character arcs here but a wealth of introspection and thought.
I really liked the themes:
The choice between doing what is noble and right vs going with the status quo.
Is one to be held accountable if they are unaware of their actions bringing disaster? Are they necessarily a bad person if they find themselves in unfortunate circumstances out of their control?
When is wrong doing justified? Can you do the wrong thing for the right reasons? Where do we drawl the line on if revenge or murder are wrong or right in certain circumstances? Are any of the characters noble? Is there really a clear good vs evil? The grey morality was interesting to think about.
I’ve been wanting to tackle this collection for a while now and finally got around to it. I was recommended Sophocles, so I figured I’d give it a go. I also got this book for free as a kind gesture from a local bookstore near my college campus. The store manager there is exceedingly generous, I’m very grateful.
I felt the pacing was slow with all the speechifying and long paragraphs.
Overall, you can see why it’s one of the classics.
The amount of plot twists made me feel like I was being thrown around left and right on a zigzagging roller coaster. There are no complex character arcs here but a wealth of introspection and thought.
I really liked the themes:
The choice between doing what is noble and right vs going with the status quo.
Is one to be held accountable if they are unaware of their actions bringing disaster? Are they necessarily a bad person if they find themselves in unfortunate circumstances out of their control?
When is wrong doing justified? Can you do the wrong thing for the right reasons? Where do we drawl the line on if revenge or murder are wrong or right in certain circumstances? Are any of the characters noble? Is there really a clear good vs evil? The grey morality was interesting to think about.
I’ve been wanting to tackle this collection for a while now and finally got around to it. I was recommended Sophocles, so I figured I’d give it a go. I also got this book for free as a kind gesture from a local bookstore near my college campus. The store manager there is exceedingly generous, I’m very grateful.
I felt the pacing was slow with all the speechifying and long paragraphs.
Overall, you can see why it’s one of the classics.
November 19, 2025
Not bad. Just a school thingy.
June 7, 2017
„ოიდიპოს მეფე“ ერთიანი ტრაგედიაა. რა დროშიც ვითარდება მოქმედებები სინამდვილეში ანალოგიურადაა სცენაზეც. ბერძნული სამყარო რომ კაუზალურია ამას მოწმობს მთელი ანტიკური ხანის ბერძნული ლიტერატურა, თუმცა სოფოკლეს ეს ტრაგედია განსაკუთრებულად აგებულია მიზეზ-შედეგობრიობაზე. გარდა ამისა ტრაგედიაში ერთ-ერთი მთავარია არა ცუდი ან კარგი კაცი, არა მათი ქმედებები, როგორც ბოროტი ან კეთილი ქმედებები, არამედ ადამიანი, რომელსაც მოსდის ინტელექტუალური შეცდომა, შემდეგ ყურადღებას ვაქცევთ როგორ ვითარდება მოვლენები ამ ინტელექტუალური შეცდომის ფონზე და საბოლოოდ როგორ გადაწყდება პრობლემა. ამ ტრაგედიაში დასმულია მნიშვნელოვანი აქცენტები, მაგალითად: ბედისწერისა და პასუხისმგებლობის საკითხი, თავისუფალი ნება, აქვს თუ არა რაიმე ბრალი/პასუხისმგებლობა ჩადენილისთვის ოიდიპოსს, მიუხედავად იმისა, რომ ბედისწერით განსაზღვრული ჰქონდა დედის ცოლად შერთვა და მამის მკვლელობა? რა როლი აქვს ტირესიასის გამოჩენას, რა არის ამ ტრაგედიის მთავარი სათქმელი.
„ოიდიპოს მეფე“ ტრაგედიაა, ეს ნიშნავს იმას, რომ არსებობს მითი ოიდიპოსზე, რომელიც უფრო ვრცლად, ტრაგედიის ჩარჩოებში შემოგვთავაზა სოფოკლემ, მისი მიზანი იყო თუ როგორ მოხდებოდა ყველაფერი, და არა ის, თუ რა დასასრული ექნებოდა ტრაგედიას, რადგან, როგორც ვიცით, ბერძნულ თეატრში მაყურებელმა იცის რის სანახავად მიდის თეატრში თუ მან ტრაგედია უნდა ნახოს. კომედიის შემთხვევაში კი საქმე სხვაგვარადაა. კომედიაში მაყურებელს ორივე აინტერესებს რა როგორ მოხდება, როგორ დამთავრდება კომედია.
სოფოკლეს ტრაგედია ოიდიპოსის მიერ ქურუმთა მიმართვით იწყება. ოიდიპოსი მწუხარებას გამოთქვამს ქალაქში დატრიალებული ჟამიანობის გამო და ცდილობს გამოარკვიოს ღმერთთა რისხვის მიზეზი. ოიდიპოსმა შეიტყო, რომ უწინ თებეს მეფე ლაიოსი ყოფილა, რომელიც ავაზაკებს მოუკლავთ. ახლა კი უფალი სამაგიერო პასუხს ითხოვს მისი მკვლელობის გამო. ოიდიპოსი ეჭვებშია, სად აღმოჩნდება ძველი მკვლელის კვალი, რადგან ის საცნობად ძნელია. ამის პასუხად კრეონტი ძალიან დიდაქტიკურ იდეას გამოთქვამს: „ამ მიწაზეო, ბრძანა ღმერთმა, რასაცა ვეძებთ, ვპოულობთ კიდეც, ჩვენ მას ვკარგავთ, რასაც არ ვეძებთ.“ (სოფოკლე, 2013, 13) ვფიქრობ რომ ეს პასაჟი საჭიროებს დაფიქრებას. ღმერთს სურს აღადგინოს სამართალი ლაიოსის მკვლელის დასჯით. ბერძნულ სამყაროში სამართლის აღდგენა ამ წესით ხდება, ამ აზრის დასტურად შეგვიძლია გავიხსენოთ ორესტეაც. ღმერთები მიწაზევე ცდილობენ დასაჯონ დამნაშავენი, შური იძიონ, თითქოს ღმერთები ასპარეზობენ ადამიანთა გულებით. კრეონტის აზრით არაფერია დაკარგული თუ ჩვენ ვფიქრობთ და ვეძებთ, დაკარგულია ის, რასაც არ ვეძებთ და არ გვახსოვს. თითქოს ეს რეალურ, დღევანდელ ცხოვრებაშიც ასეა. ის რაზეც არ ვფიქრობთ, თავისთავად დაკარგულია.
ძალიან ნიშანდობლივია ასევე ტირესიასისა და ოიდიპოსის დიალოგი, რომელიც შემდგომ გაცხარებულ კამათში გადაიზრდება. ოიდიპოსს არ უნდა რომ დაფიქრდეს, მას ეჭვიც კი არ შეაქვს საკუთარ თავში და ტირესიასის უტიფრობას გმობს. ტირესიასი სწუხს რომ მეფე მრისხანებას საყვედურობს და ახსენებს იმას რომ მასთან მყოფ სიავეს ვერ ამჩნევს. ანუ ოიდიპოსი თვალხილულია თუმცა გონებით ბრმაა. და ამას ტირესიასიც ეუბნება. მინდა აღვნიშნო, რომ სანამ ოიდიპოსი საკუთარ დანაშაულს შეიტყობდა, მანამ ბევრი მინიშნება ჰქონდა, რაზეც უნდა დაფიქრებულიყო. ტირესიასი ამბობს „მე დახსნილი ვარ, რადგან ჩემში სიმართლე არის.“ (სოფოკლე, 2013, 25) სიმართლეს შეუძლია მოგანიჭოს თავისუფლება, მაშინ როცა სიმართლე შენშია, თვით მეფისთვის უსიამოვნოც კი მარტივად გასამჟღავნებელი ხდება. ამიტომ ამბობს ტირესიასი, რომ ის დახსნილია. დასჯა მას არაფრად უჩანს, რადგან მეფის მიერ მისი დასჯა არ იქნება ჭეშმარიტად დამსახურებული. ის ემსახურება უფრო მაღალ პრინციპს, ვიდრე მეფეა. ჭეშმარიტება ძალას ფლობს და სანამ ის ძალას ფლობს მანამ შეუძლია ასე საუბარი. „სწორედ ეს დღე გშობს და ეს დღევე დაგამხოვს სწორედ.“ (სოფოკლე, 2013, 29) ეს სიტყვები აღნიშნავს ოიდიპოსის სიკდილსაც და დაბადებასაც ერთდროულად. სიკვდილსა და დაბადებას ერთი რამისთვის - ჭეშმარიტებისთვის. დაბადებაა საკუთარი თვის შეცნობა, დამხობა კი საზარელი სიმართლე, მამის მკვლელონა და დედის ცოლად შერთვა, რასაც ის გაექცა.
ჩვენ ვხედავთ, რომ ოიდიპოსის ბედი დაბადებიდანვე განსაზღვრულია. ასეთი შვილი მამას უწინასწარმეტყველეს, ლაიოსმა კი ის მოიშორა. ოიდიპოსი სიმართლის შეტყობის შემდეგ ამბობს: „თურმე ვყოფილვარ დაწყევლილი დაბადებითვე“, ამგავარდ შეიძლება ვთქვათ, რომ ოიდიპოსის ბედი დაბადებიდანვე განსაზღვრულია პირველივე შეცდომით, მამის შეცდომით. ბერძნულ სამყაროში ყველაფერი მრუდდება „პირველი შეცდომის“ შემდეგ, პირველი შეცდომა საკუთარ ზურგზე გადააქვთ იმ ადამიანებსაც, რომლებსაც ეს შეცდომა არ დაუშვიათ.
ოიდიპოსი რაც უფრო გაურბის საკუთარ ბედისწერას, მით უფრო უახლოვდება მას. საინტერესოა იყო თუ არა ოიდიპოსი დამნაშავე. გაქცევა თავისთავად ნიშნავს შიშს, პირისპირ ბრძოლის შიშს, რასაც ოიდიპოსი გაექცა, თუმცა ეს გაქცევაც თავის მოტყუება იყო. გაქცევა თავისთავად როდი ნიშნავს გადარჩენას, ოიდიპოსმა მის გარდა არაფერი მოიმოქმედა, ეს ჰგავდა ბედისწერისა და თავის მოტყუებას ერთდროულად, ეს მსხვერპლი არ აღმოჩნდა საკმარისი. ეს არ იყო ბრძოლის დასასრული.
მე ფრიქრობ, რომ ოიდიპოსი გარკვეულწილად იყო დამნაშავე, რადგან მას შეეძლო რომ არავინ მოეკლა, ცოლად კი საკუთარ თავზე პატარა შეერთო. მან დააშავა ისიც, რომ ფიზიკური გაქცევის გარდა, არაფერი იღონა, მან დააშავა ის, რომ წინასწარმეტყველებას წაუყრუა. ის, რაც მთელ შენს ცხოვრებას ხაზად გასდევს, შეუძლებელია დაგავიწყდეს ან შეუძლებელია მისი შიში არ გქონდეს.
ერთი შეხედვით საკმაოდ რთულია ამ ტრაგედიაში თავისუფალ ნებაზე რაიმე ვთქვათ, რადგან როგორც აღვნიშნე, ღმერთები ასპარეზობენ ადამიანთა გულებით, მაგრამ აუცილებლად უნდა აღინიშნოს, რომ საქმე არაა ის, რომ ოიდიპოსი არტახებშია ბედისწერის მიერ გაკრული, არამედ მას აკლია ცოდნა საკუთარ ბედისწერაზე, რაც რეალურად მისი დაღუპვის მიზეზიც ხდება. ამ აზრით, შეიძლება ვიფიქროთ, რომ უცოდინრობაა ის, რაც ბოლოს უღებს თავისუფლებას და არა ის, რომ ადამიანებს რაღაცები განსაზღვრული აქვთ. ჩვენ თავისუფლები ვართ ჩვენს ცოდნაში, სწორედ ცოდნა გვხდის მეტად თავისუფლებს. თავისუფლების ილუზია და ილუზია იმისა, რომ გაქცევით თავს უშველი და თავიდან აირიდებ წინასწარმეტყველებას ფუჭად გარჯას უდრის.
სოფოკლეს ტრაგედიაში იგრძნობა საკმაო ირონიაც. ბრმა ტირესიასი ხედავს, ხოლო თვალხილული ოიდიპოსი-ვერა. ერთგვარი ირონიაა ისიც, რომ ხალხი დახმარებისთვის იმ მეფეს მიმართავს, რომელიც ამ ჭირიანობის მიზეზია. ეს პარადოქსები მკითხველებმა ვიცით და თითქოს ღიმილსაც იწვევს, მაგრამ ეს სხვა განწყობის ღიმილია. ღიმილი უსუსურობაზე, ადამიანის სიპატარავეზე. თუმცა თუ თებეს ციკლს მივყვებით და გავეცნობით მის სამივე ტრაგედიას ვნახავთ, რომ ოიდიპოსმა საბოლოოდ მაინც გაიმარჯვა. პირველი ტრაგედია ოიდიპოსის დაბადებაა. საკუთარი თავის შეცნობამ და შიშის გაქრობამ მას თავისუფლება მიანიჭა.ბერძნული ბალანსიც აღდგა იმით, რომ ოიდიპოსი თვალებით დაბრმავდა, თუმცა გონებით მჭვრეტელი გახდა. აქ ხაზი ესმევა ხედვასაც კი. რითი ხედვაა უფრო ღირებული და სწორი. „ოიდიპოსი კოლონოსში“ აქ ოიდიპოსი ბრძენ ადამიანად გვევლინებამ რომელიც პატივისცემის ღირსია, თუმცა კი ქალაქიდან განდევნილი. საბოლოოდ რისი თქმა სურდა ამ ტრაგედიით სოფოკლეს?
მე ვფიქრობ, რომ დრამატურგის მთავარი სათქმელი არ იყო მხოლოდ ერთი რამ, არამედ ტრაგედიაში გამოთქმული თითოეული დიდაქტიკური იდეა თითო-თითოდ არის მთავარი სათქმელი. თავისუფლების იდეა არ დევს მხოლოდ „ოიდიპის მეფეში“, ის დევს თვალდათხრილ ოიდიპოსში, რომლის ყოფასაც სოფოკლე აღგვიწერს „ოიდიპოსი კოლონოსში“, ის ბრმაა, თუმცა ავტონომიურია, ასევე „ანტიგონე“ რომელიც ისე იქცევა, როგორც სწორად მიაჩნია. არ უშინდება კრეონტის, მიწიერი მმართველის მუქარას. პატივს სცემს მამისა და ძმის ხსოვნას. ცოდნაში თავისუფლება ძალიან მნიშვნელოვანი საკითხია. საკუთარი თავის ცოდნა თავისუფლებას განიჭებს, ესაა მტკიცება იმისა, რომ ბედისწერას არ შეუძლია თავისთავად წარმართოს ყველაფერი, არამედ ის შენზეა დამოკიდებული, შენ შეგიძლია ის წარმართო შენი მჭერმეტყველებითა და გონიერებით. ასე რომ შეგვიძლია რომ ეს ტრაგედია განვაზოგადოთ და მთელს კაცობრიობას მოვარგოთ, მოვარგოთ ჩვენს თავებსაც, დავადგეთ საკუთარი თავის შეცნობის გზას და მასში ვიპოვნით საკუთარ თავებსაც და საკუთარ თავისუფლებასაც.
„ოიდიპოს მეფე“ ტრაგედიაა, ეს ნიშნავს იმას, რომ არსებობს მითი ოიდიპოსზე, რომელიც უფრო ვრცლად, ტრაგედიის ჩარჩოებში შემოგვთავაზა სოფოკლემ, მისი მიზანი იყო თუ როგორ მოხდებოდა ყველაფერი, და არა ის, თუ რა დასასრული ექნებოდა ტრაგედიას, რადგან, როგორც ვიცით, ბერძნულ თეატრში მაყურებელმა იცის რის სანახავად მიდის თეატრში თუ მან ტრაგედია უნდა ნახოს. კომედიის შემთხვევაში კი საქმე სხვაგვარადაა. კომედიაში მაყურებელს ორივე აინტერესებს რა როგორ მოხდება, როგორ დამთავრდება კომედია.
სოფოკლეს ტრაგედია ოიდიპოსის მიერ ქურუმთა მიმართვით იწყება. ოიდიპოსი მწუხარებას გამოთქვამს ქალაქში დატრიალებული ჟამიანობის გამო და ცდილობს გამოარკვიოს ღმერთთა რისხვის მიზეზი. ოიდიპოსმა შეიტყო, რომ უწინ თებეს მეფე ლაიოსი ყოფილა, რომელიც ავაზაკებს მოუკლავთ. ახლა კი უფალი სამაგიერო პასუხს ითხოვს მისი მკვლელობის გამო. ოიდიპოსი ეჭვებშია, სად აღმოჩნდება ძველი მკვლელის კვალი, რადგან ის საცნობად ძნელია. ამის პასუხად კრეონტი ძალიან დიდაქტიკურ იდეას გამოთქვამს: „ამ მიწაზეო, ბრძანა ღმერთმა, რასაცა ვეძებთ, ვპოულობთ კიდეც, ჩვენ მას ვკარგავთ, რასაც არ ვეძებთ.“ (სოფოკლე, 2013, 13) ვფიქრობ რომ ეს პასაჟი საჭიროებს დაფიქრებას. ღმერთს სურს აღადგინოს სამართალი ლაიოსის მკვლელის დასჯით. ბერძნულ სამყაროში სამართლის აღდგენა ამ წესით ხდება, ამ აზრის დასტურად შეგვიძლია გავიხსენოთ ორესტეაც. ღმერთები მიწაზევე ცდილობენ დასაჯონ დამნაშავენი, შური იძიონ, თითქოს ღმერთები ასპარეზობენ ადამიანთა გულებით. კრეონტის აზრით არაფერია დაკარგული თუ ჩვენ ვფიქრობთ და ვეძებთ, დაკარგულია ის, რასაც არ ვეძებთ და არ გვახსოვს. თითქოს ეს რეალურ, დღევანდელ ცხოვრებაშიც ასეა. ის რაზეც არ ვფიქრობთ, თავისთავად დაკარგულია.
ძალიან ნიშანდობლივია ასევე ტირესიასისა და ოიდიპოსის დიალოგი, რომელიც შემდგომ გაცხარებულ კამათში გადაიზრდება. ოიდიპოსს არ უნდა რომ დაფიქრდეს, მას ეჭვიც კი არ შეაქვს საკუთარ თავში და ტირესიასის უტიფრობას გმობს. ტირესიასი სწუხს რომ მეფე მრისხანებას საყვედურობს და ახსენებს იმას რომ მასთან მყოფ სიავეს ვერ ამჩნევს. ანუ ოიდიპოსი თვალხილულია თუმცა გონებით ბრმაა. და ამას ტირესიასიც ეუბნება. მინდა აღვნიშნო, რომ სანამ ოიდიპოსი საკუთარ დანაშაულს შეიტყობდა, მანამ ბევრი მინიშნება ჰქონდა, რაზეც უნდა დაფიქრებულიყო. ტირესიასი ამბობს „მე დახსნილი ვარ, რადგან ჩემში სიმართლე არის.“ (სოფოკლე, 2013, 25) სიმართლეს შეუძლია მოგანიჭოს თავისუფლება, მაშინ როცა სიმართლე შენშია, თვით მეფისთვის უსიამოვნოც კი მარტივად გასამჟღავნებელი ხდება. ამიტომ ამბობს ტირესიასი, რომ ის დახსნილია. დასჯა მას არაფრად უჩანს, რადგან მეფის მიერ მისი დასჯა არ იქნება ჭეშმარიტად დამსახურებული. ის ემსახურება უფრო მაღალ პრინციპს, ვიდრე მეფეა. ჭეშმარიტება ძალას ფლობს და სანამ ის ძალას ფლობს მანამ შეუძლია ასე საუბარი. „სწორედ ეს დღე გშობს და ეს დღევე დაგამხოვს სწორედ.“ (სოფოკლე, 2013, 29) ეს სიტყვები აღნიშნავს ოიდიპოსის სიკდილსაც და დაბადებასაც ერთდროულად. სიკვდილსა და დაბადებას ერთი რამისთვის - ჭეშმარიტებისთვის. დაბადებაა საკუთარი თვის შეცნობა, დამხობა კი საზარელი სიმართლე, მამის მკვლელონა და დედის ცოლად შერთვა, რასაც ის გაექცა.
ჩვენ ვხედავთ, რომ ოიდიპოსის ბედი დაბადებიდანვე განსაზღვრულია. ასეთი შვილი მამას უწინასწარმეტყველეს, ლაიოსმა კი ის მოიშორა. ოიდიპოსი სიმართლის შეტყობის შემდეგ ამბობს: „თურმე ვყოფილვარ დაწყევლილი დაბადებითვე“, ამგავარდ შეიძლება ვთქვათ, რომ ოიდიპოსის ბედი დაბადებიდანვე განსაზღვრულია პირველივე შეცდომით, მამის შეცდომით. ბერძნულ სამყაროში ყველაფერი მრუდდება „პირველი შეცდომის“ შემდეგ, პირველი შეცდომა საკუთარ ზურგზე გადააქვთ იმ ადამიანებსაც, რომლებსაც ეს შეცდომა არ დაუშვიათ.
ოიდიპოსი რაც უფრო გაურბის საკუთარ ბედისწერას, მით უფრო უახლოვდება მას. საინტერესოა იყო თუ არა ოიდიპოსი დამნაშავე. გაქცევა თავისთავად ნიშნავს შიშს, პირისპირ ბრძოლის შიშს, რასაც ოიდიპოსი გაექცა, თუმცა ეს გაქცევაც თავის მოტყუება იყო. გაქცევა თავისთავად როდი ნიშნავს გადარჩენას, ოიდიპოსმა მის გარდა არაფერი მოიმოქმედა, ეს ჰგავდა ბედისწერისა და თავის მოტყუებას ერთდროულად, ეს მსხვერპლი არ აღმოჩნდა საკმარისი. ეს არ იყო ბრძოლის დასასრული.
მე ფრიქრობ, რომ ოიდიპოსი გარკვეულწილად იყო დამნაშავე, რადგან მას შეეძლო რომ არავინ მოეკლა, ცოლად კი საკუთარ თავზე პატარა შეერთო. მან დააშავა ისიც, რომ ფიზიკური გაქცევის გარდა, არაფერი იღონა, მან დააშავა ის, რომ წინასწარმეტყველებას წაუყრუა. ის, რაც მთელ შენს ცხოვრებას ხაზად გასდევს, შეუძლებელია დაგავიწყდეს ან შეუძლებელია მისი შიში არ გქონდეს.
ერთი შეხედვით საკმაოდ რთულია ამ ტრაგედიაში თავისუფალ ნებაზე რაიმე ვთქვათ, რადგან როგორც აღვნიშნე, ღმერთები ასპარეზობენ ადამიანთა გულებით, მაგრამ აუცილებლად უნდა აღინიშნოს, რომ საქმე არაა ის, რომ ოიდიპოსი არტახებშია ბედისწერის მიერ გაკრული, არამედ მას აკლია ცოდნა საკუთარ ბედისწერაზე, რაც რეალურად მისი დაღუპვის მიზეზიც ხდება. ამ აზრით, შეიძლება ვიფიქროთ, რომ უცოდინრობაა ის, რაც ბოლოს უღებს თავისუფლებას და არა ის, რომ ადამიანებს რაღაცები განსაზღვრული აქვთ. ჩვენ თავისუფლები ვართ ჩვენს ცოდნაში, სწორედ ცოდნა გვხდის მეტად თავისუფლებს. თავისუფლების ილუზია და ილუზია იმისა, რომ გაქცევით თავს უშველი და თავიდან აირიდებ წინასწარმეტყველებას ფუჭად გარჯას უდრის.
სოფოკლეს ტრაგედიაში იგრძნობა საკმაო ირონიაც. ბრმა ტირესიასი ხედავს, ხოლო თვალხილული ოიდიპოსი-ვერა. ერთგვარი ირონიაა ისიც, რომ ხალხი დახმარებისთვის იმ მეფეს მიმართავს, რომელიც ამ ჭირიანობის მიზეზია. ეს პარადოქსები მკითხველებმა ვიცით და თითქოს ღიმილსაც იწვევს, მაგრამ ეს სხვა განწყობის ღიმილია. ღიმილი უსუსურობაზე, ადამიანის სიპატარავეზე. თუმცა თუ თებეს ციკლს მივყვებით და გავეცნობით მის სამივე ტრაგედიას ვნახავთ, რომ ოიდიპოსმა საბოლოოდ მაინც გაიმარჯვა. პირველი ტრაგედია ოიდიპოსის დაბადებაა. საკუთარი თავის შეცნობამ და შიშის გაქრობამ მას თავისუფლება მიანიჭა.ბერძნული ბალანსიც აღდგა იმით, რომ ოიდიპოსი თვალებით დაბრმავდა, თუმცა გონებით მჭვრეტელი გახდა. აქ ხაზი ესმევა ხედვასაც კი. რითი ხედვაა უფრო ღირებული და სწორი. „ოიდიპოსი კოლონოსში“ აქ ოიდიპოსი ბრძენ ადამიანად გვევლინებამ რომელიც პატივისცემის ღირსია, თუმცა კი ქალაქიდან განდევნილი. საბოლოოდ რისი თქმა სურდა ამ ტრაგედიით სოფოკლეს?
მე ვფიქრობ, რომ დრამატურგის მთავარი სათქმელი არ იყო მხოლოდ ერთი რამ, არამედ ტრაგედიაში გამოთქმული თითოეული დიდაქტიკური იდეა თითო-თითოდ არის მთავარი სათქმელი. თავისუფლების იდეა არ დევს მხოლოდ „ოიდიპის მეფეში“, ის დევს თვალდათხრილ ოიდიპოსში, რომლის ყოფასაც სოფოკლე აღგვიწერს „ოიდიპოსი კოლონოსში“, ის ბრმაა, თუმცა ავტონომიურია, ასევე „ანტიგონე“ რომელიც ისე იქცევა, როგორც სწორად მიაჩნია. არ უშინდება კრეონტის, მიწიერი მმართველის მუქარას. პატივს სცემს მამისა და ძმის ხსოვნას. ცოდნაში თავისუფლება ძალიან მნიშვნელოვანი საკითხია. საკუთარი თავის ცოდნა თავისუფლებას განიჭებს, ესაა მტკიცება იმისა, რომ ბედისწერას არ შეუძლია თავისთავად წარმართოს ყველაფერი, არამედ ის შენზეა დამოკიდებული, შენ შეგიძლია ის წარმართო შენი მჭერმეტყველებითა და გონიერებით. ასე რომ შეგვიძლია რომ ეს ტრაგედია განვაზოგადოთ და მთელს კაცობრიობას მოვარგოთ, მოვარგოთ ჩვენს თავებსაც, დავადგეთ საკუთარი თავის შეცნობის გზას და მასში ვიპოვნით საკუთარ თავებსაც და საკუთარ თავისუფლებასაც.
January 6, 2022
Antigone: 5 stars
What I love about the character of Antigone, is that she is willing to do anything if she believes that, this is the right thing to do. She doesn’t care about higher power such as the law (Creon) and she refuses to submit to it, therefore she is punished for it.
I wish someone would write a retelling of this myth because she is an interesting character. She has such a deep sense of filial piety for her brother, that she is willing to disobey the law and die so that he could be buried and not wander eternally without finding his way to the underworld.
Oedipus the King: 5 stars
Oedipus the King or no matter how hard you try to escape your fate, what is meant to be, will eventually happen. It’s pretty clear if you read any myth that no one can escape their fates, whether it’s Oedipus, Iocasta, or Laius, they all try their luck but end up meeting it anyway.
Electra: 3 stars
It’s definitely my least favourite among the three plays. I found the character of Electra a little similar to Antigone, since they are both looking for justice regarding a member of their family.
What I love about the character of Antigone, is that she is willing to do anything if she believes that, this is the right thing to do. She doesn’t care about higher power such as the law (Creon) and she refuses to submit to it, therefore she is punished for it.
I wish someone would write a retelling of this myth because she is an interesting character. She has such a deep sense of filial piety for her brother, that she is willing to disobey the law and die so that he could be buried and not wander eternally without finding his way to the underworld.
Oedipus the King: 5 stars
Oedipus the King or no matter how hard you try to escape your fate, what is meant to be, will eventually happen. It’s pretty clear if you read any myth that no one can escape their fates, whether it’s Oedipus, Iocasta, or Laius, they all try their luck but end up meeting it anyway.
Electra: 3 stars
It’s definitely my least favourite among the three plays. I found the character of Electra a little similar to Antigone, since they are both looking for justice regarding a member of their family.
January 30, 2013
The story of Oedipus the King is about a King named Oedipus who is the ruler of a city called Thebes. A curse has befallen on this city and Oedipus sends someone for Apollo to find out why it's happening. He learns that the curse is due to the fact that their last king, Laius, was murdered and if they find out who the killer is, the curse in Thebes would be lifted. With that, a series of events ends up happening to Oedipus from being accused to being the murderer of Laius to just a whole bunch of family drama.
I did enjoy this part of Sophocles writing, but it was still a little hard to get into based on how the writing was to me. I loved how the story just hits you with so much drama that just continues until the very end.
I think regardless of what genre you like, I think most people would enjoy this book if it was explained to them properly so they know what's going on (since the writing can be confusing). It just catches your attention so fast and it just keeps you hooked.
I did enjoy this part of Sophocles writing, but it was still a little hard to get into based on how the writing was to me. I loved how the story just hits you with so much drama that just continues until the very end.
I think regardless of what genre you like, I think most people would enjoy this book if it was explained to them properly so they know what's going on (since the writing can be confusing). It just catches your attention so fast and it just keeps you hooked.
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