Mission 2026: Binge reviewing all previous Reads, I was too slothful to review back when I read them
Martin L. West’s 'Indo-European Poetry and Myth' is one of those books that quietly but permanently alters how you understand both literature and history. It does not dazzle with rhetorical flourish or attempt to seduce the reader with grand metaphysical claims. Instead, it works through accumulation, patience, and precision, until a startling realisation takes shape: that vast stretches of what we call Western, South Asian, and even Eurasian imagination are not isolated achievements but variations of a deep, shared poetic inheritance. Returning to this book now, I am struck less by its erudition, formidable though that is, and more by its discipline. West does not speculate where evidence does not carry him. He reconstructs, cautiously and methodically, a lost world of song, ritual, and story whose echoes still vibrate through Homer, the Rig Veda, Old Norse poetry, and beyond.
This is not a book about mythology in the popular sense of gods and monsters alone. It is a book about form: how poetry remembers, how myth travels, and how language preserves memory long after cultures forget their origins. West’s central argument, that Indo-European-speaking cultures inherited not only linguistic structures but also poetic conventions, mythic themes, and ritual formulas from a common ancestor, is both bold and restrained. He does not claim to recover a complete proto-mythology. Instead, he shows recurring patterns: the dragon-slayer myth, the cosmic twin, the sacred drink, the poet-priest, the binding power of oaths, and the centrality of fame and remembrance. These motifs appear across cultures separated by centuries and geography, not as carbon copies but as recognisably related transformations.
What makes the book so compelling is West’s refusal to mystify this process. There is no romantic nostalgia for a lost golden age, no spiritualised longing for primordial unity. The proto-Indo-Europeans, as they emerge here, are not noble abstractions but human communities shaped by violence, hierarchy, ritual obligation, and the harsh demands of survival. Their poetry was functional before it was beautiful: it praised warriors, sanctified contracts, invoked gods for protection, and preserved lineage. Aesthetics grew out of necessity. Reading this now, I was reminded how often modern readers forget that poetry was once a technology of memory and power, not a private art.
West’s scholarship is formidable, but what impressed me most on rereading was his clarity. He moves effortlessly between Greek hexameter, Vedic hymns, Hittite ritual texts, Latin epic, and Old Irish verse without losing the reader. The comparisons are precise, often startling. A phrase in Homer suddenly illuminates a line in the Rig Veda. A Norse myth about Thor resonates uncannily with Indic storm-god imagery. These moments accumulate into something like intellectual vertigo. One begins to sense how thin the walls between traditions really are, how much has been inherited, reshaped, and half-forgotten rather than invented ex nihilo.
The chapters on poetic diction and formulaic language are especially revealing. West shows that certain epithets, metaphors, and narrative structures recur not because later poets copied earlier ones, but because they were drawing from a shared reservoir of expression. Poetry here is not individual genius erupting in isolation, but tradition speaking through individuals. That idea felt almost unsettling in its implications. It challenges modern notions of originality and authorship, replacing them with a vision of creativity as skilled participation in a long-standing system. Homer, in this light, becomes not a solitary genius but an extraordinarily gifted inheritor.
Equally important is West’s attention to ritual context. Myths are not treated as free-floating stories but as components of religious practice. The slaying of a monster, the marriage of sky and earth, and the journey to the underworld: these are not just narratives but symbolic acts tied to seasonal cycles, social order, and cosmic anxiety. Reading these sections, I was struck by how inseparable poetry and religion once were. Language did not merely describe reality; it was believed to act upon it. Words bound gods, sealed treaties, and ensured continuity between generations.
At the same time, the book demands intellectual humility from its reader. West is careful to mark the limits of reconstruction. He repeatedly reminds us that similarity does not always imply inheritance, and that convergence can occur independently. This caution is refreshing in a field often tempted by sweeping claims. The result is a work that feels trustworthy even when it ventures into speculative territory. West never pretends certainty where there is none. He models a scholarly ethic that values restraint as much as insight.
Reading the book now, I was also aware of how it quietly resists ideological misuse. Indo-European studies have long been shadowed by racial and nationalist distortions. West does not polemicise against these abuses, but his method itself undermines them. There is nothing triumphant or supremacist in his account. The shared Indo-European heritage he reconstructs is not a badge of superiority but a reminder of interconnection. Cultures diverge, adapt, and hybridise. What survives is not purity but transformation.
Personally, I found the book deeply humbling. It made me rethink how I read epics, hymns, and myths I thought I knew well. The Rig Veda no longer felt isolated within Indian tradition; Homer no longer felt uniquely Greek. Each became part of a vast conversation stretching back into prehistory. That awareness does not flatten difference; it deepens it. Knowing that similar structures underlie these traditions makes their divergences more meaningful, not less.
This is not an easy book, nor does it pretend to be. It assumes patience, curiosity, and a willingness to move slowly through dense argument. But the reward is commensurate with the effort. Few books manage to make the ancient world feel simultaneously more intelligible and more mysterious. West explains patterns, but he never drains them of wonder. On the contrary, understanding how myth and poetry travel across time only intensifies their strangeness. That humans separated by millennia could imagine the cosmos in structurally similar ways is not comforting; it is astonishing.
By the time I closed the book, I felt less like I had finished reading something and more like I had been inducted into a way of seeing. Literature, after West, is no longer merely national or chronological. It is genealogical. It carries deep memory. And myth, far from being childish fantasy, emerges as one of humanity’s most durable intellectual achievements: a means of thinking through existence when explanation alone is not enough.
'Indo-European Poetry and Myth' is not fashionable, nor is it easily summarised. It asks for time, seriousness, and intellectual honesty. But it repays those demands by offering a vision of human culture that is both rigorously grounded and quietly profound. Few scholarly works manage to feel this necessary. A most recommended book.
A classic for ages. Most Recommended.