Publication
Oxford; New York : Oxford University Press (2009), Edition: Revised, Paperback, 368 pages
Call number
Myth / Dalle
ISBN
0199538360 / 9780199538362
Original publication date
1700 BC
Collections
Description
"Between the great rivers Tigris and Euphrates lies the rich alluvial land of Mesopotamia (now in modern Iraq), which supported a complex and prosperous society over 4,000 years ago." "The stories translated here are all of ancient Mesopotamia, and include not only myths about the Creation and stories of the Flood, but also the longest and greatest literary composition, the Epic of Gilgamesh. This is the story of a heroic quest for fame and immortality, pursued by a man of great strength who loses a unique opportunity through a moment's weakness." "So much has been discovered in recent years both by way of new tablets and points of grammar and lexicography that these new translations by Stephanie Dalley supersede all previous versions."--Jacket.… (more)
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LibraryThing member keylawk
Atrahasis, the wise man who built an ark and saved mankind from destruction by a Flood, becoming a quasi-immortal progenitor. His story is delicately (speaking of cannibalism [27a] and slavery [26b]) compiled by Enheduana, daughter of Sargon, 2390-2335 BC, and holder of the most prestigious temple
Gilgamesh. Standard and Old Babylonian Version.
Nergal and Ereshkigal, two very different versions. Judge of the Underworld, and consort "Queen of the Great Earth", sister of Istar. In the earlier version, Nergal seizes the throne of the Underworld by force from the Queen. No Sumerian version is known. I like the part where Nergal enters the house, past the curious doors, seals Ereshkigal off, and then seizes her by the hair. But she cries out to him "Don't kill me! let me tell you something." And he listens, and weeps. Then she says, "come, you can be my husband, I will put the Tablet of Wisdom in your hand." Then she weeps. He kisses her and wipes away her tears [180]. Oh my brother, my sister, by this time we are all in tears.
Adapa. The first of the antediluvian sages, sent by Ea to bring civilization to mankind. See? Man's folly is reduced to a simple misunderstanding over table manners. Of course Ea then punishes Adapa, tricking him out of immortality.
Etana. A Quasi-historical king of Kush. We are still piecing this together, but the motif of a man's ascent to heaven on an eagle's back has entered Iranian and Islamic legend. Great curse sample: "May the prowling weapon make straight for him".
Anzu, the lion-headed eagle. Two versions, again very different. (!) The hero is Ninurta, whose title is "Bel", "The Lord", equivalent to Biblical Semitic "Ba'al". The epic of cosmic warfare among powerful gods centers around possession of the Tablet of Destinies, with which Anzu has flown off to inaccessible mountains. After a preface, "Pay attention to reliable words!" Deliverance for the despondent Igigi [210], the assembled gods, begins after Ea, the Lord of Intelligence, suggests to the sister of all Gods, Belet-ili, that she offer Ninurta, her powerful son, to capture the soaring Anzu. When this sister says "Yes", "The gods of the land were glad at her utterance" [211]. She instructs her son in a battle plan to conquer Anzu, "and the warrior listened to his mother's words" [212]. Colophon is missing.
Epic of Creation. So named, but a different sort than Gilgamesh. Here, no struggle against fate, no heroes. Marduk overcomes the forces of evil -- with no suspense built up. Mankind created to serve the gods, the males of whom elect their leaders. Goddesses play no part in creating the civilized world [228], and waters are the primeval forces. Mankind's king, surrounded by priests performing the proper rites, receives his mandate from the gods. The subjects kiss the feet of the King. Loyal support is absolute and brooks no rivalry. Only utter chaos is the alternative. Reeks of propaganda but probably not stultifying to the peerage.
Theogony of Dunnu. This was probably a town of importance, and clearly had its own local tradition about "creation". Here the primeval forces are the Plough and Earth, as the parents of the Sea. Clearly Mesopotamians did not have a single specific tradition for creation. Recurrent themes of incest, and murder of parents, contrast with the dignified courtesies in the Creation Epic.
Erra and Ishum. 8th Century BC, the poet speaks in the first person, of his theme. The poetry is filled with blood-lust and war glorification.
The translator reminds us that "all the great temples would have had their own libraries" [xviiia].
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office at Ur, the author of the Temple Hymns [3].Gilgamesh. Standard and Old Babylonian Version.
Nergal and Ereshkigal, two very different versions. Judge of the Underworld, and consort "Queen of the Great Earth", sister of Istar. In the earlier version, Nergal seizes the throne of the Underworld by force from the Queen. No Sumerian version is known. I like the part where Nergal enters the house, past the curious doors, seals Ereshkigal off, and then seizes her by the hair. But she cries out to him "Don't kill me! let me tell you something." And he listens, and weeps. Then she says, "come, you can be my husband, I will put the Tablet of Wisdom in your hand." Then she weeps. He kisses her and wipes away her tears [180]. Oh my brother, my sister, by this time we are all in tears.
Adapa. The first of the antediluvian sages, sent by Ea to bring civilization to mankind. See? Man's folly is reduced to a simple misunderstanding over table manners. Of course Ea then punishes Adapa, tricking him out of immortality.
Etana. A Quasi-historical king of Kush. We are still piecing this together, but the motif of a man's ascent to heaven on an eagle's back has entered Iranian and Islamic legend. Great curse sample: "May the prowling weapon make straight for him".
Anzu, the lion-headed eagle. Two versions, again very different. (!) The hero is Ninurta, whose title is "Bel", "The Lord", equivalent to Biblical Semitic "Ba'al". The epic of cosmic warfare among powerful gods centers around possession of the Tablet of Destinies, with which Anzu has flown off to inaccessible mountains. After a preface, "Pay attention to reliable words!" Deliverance for the despondent Igigi [210], the assembled gods, begins after Ea, the Lord of Intelligence, suggests to the sister of all Gods, Belet-ili, that she offer Ninurta, her powerful son, to capture the soaring Anzu. When this sister says "Yes", "The gods of the land were glad at her utterance" [211]. She instructs her son in a battle plan to conquer Anzu, "and the warrior listened to his mother's words" [212]. Colophon is missing.
Epic of Creation. So named, but a different sort than Gilgamesh. Here, no struggle against fate, no heroes. Marduk overcomes the forces of evil -- with no suspense built up. Mankind created to serve the gods, the males of whom elect their leaders. Goddesses play no part in creating the civilized world [228], and waters are the primeval forces. Mankind's king, surrounded by priests performing the proper rites, receives his mandate from the gods. The subjects kiss the feet of the King. Loyal support is absolute and brooks no rivalry. Only utter chaos is the alternative. Reeks of propaganda but probably not stultifying to the peerage.
Theogony of Dunnu. This was probably a town of importance, and clearly had its own local tradition about "creation". Here the primeval forces are the Plough and Earth, as the parents of the Sea. Clearly Mesopotamians did not have a single specific tradition for creation. Recurrent themes of incest, and murder of parents, contrast with the dignified courtesies in the Creation Epic.
Erra and Ishum. 8th Century BC, the poet speaks in the first person, of his theme. The poetry is filled with blood-lust and war glorification.
The translator reminds us that "all the great temples would have had their own libraries" [xviiia].
Show Less
LibraryThing member keyboardcouch
I just picked this up to get unembelished accounts of Gilgamesh and Inanan's decent. Had a flip through the other myths, but ultimately I don't have a high enough interest to persevere with them.
This is an invaluable text for those looking for what's on the tablets and nothing else, but for the
This is an invaluable text for those looking for what's on the tablets and nothing else, but for the
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same reason may be rather tedious for the the casual reader. Show Less
LibraryThing member AKBWrites
Is this thing difficult? Yes. Is it fragmen[tary? Yes]. But is it rewarding? If you can get on its wavelength and find the rhythm of the poetry, then it's incredibly rewarding. But this isn't entry-level mythology by any means, or even intermediate. This is advanced, if only because the texts are
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so fragmentary. But the poems here reward patience. Show Less
LibraryThing member goosecap
I suppose all I can really offer is a meditation upon ignorance. I don’t really understand. And there’s so much that no one understands, the broken lines and lacunae, that even people who read Akkadian can’t comprehend, the allusions to lost stories, the one trace of something, about which
I don’t feel like I really know these people; the (esp. unmarked) white public doesn’t really claim Middle Eastern mythologies the way that it does European ones, although of course there is a sort of difference between an estranged (and marked, if you like) cousin, and a total stranger—like the author of that baroque Japanese book I read, so delightfully introverted, if completely foreign and difficult to know. These myths are Really old— ancient and ragged, driving, driving on, and also related in some way to our sort of ancient sister civilizations in Israel and Greece, although again, it’s hard to say how exactly. Perhaps no one even really understood back then, even, since there were so many wars and so much violence, people probably would have settled most readily on that they were Not Quite The Same, you know. And much of the knowledge that once was theirs, died with them, eventually, at least.
I’m not quite sure how to deal with the misogyny, which is certainly present, as either identifying or refusing to identify—judging or covering up, I guess—can be bad if it is done in the wrong way. I suppose you could do either, since they are both bad in a way, although the bad way to do it is not so good. I mean, it’s good not to lie, but the truth is a strange thing.
Stephanie is I suppose maybe the only mythology girl I’ve read so far, depending on how you count, and I have several mythology books. As an editor she’s very Wilhelmine, cut and dried, not exactly Stephen Mitchell’s sister, you know. I suppose she doesn’t have to be.
In the end, sometimes, you just find out that you didn’t know, although I suppose it’s never really the end.
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nothing else is known. I don’t feel like I really know these people; the (esp. unmarked) white public doesn’t really claim Middle Eastern mythologies the way that it does European ones, although of course there is a sort of difference between an estranged (and marked, if you like) cousin, and a total stranger—like the author of that baroque Japanese book I read, so delightfully introverted, if completely foreign and difficult to know. These myths are Really old— ancient and ragged, driving, driving on, and also related in some way to our sort of ancient sister civilizations in Israel and Greece, although again, it’s hard to say how exactly. Perhaps no one even really understood back then, even, since there were so many wars and so much violence, people probably would have settled most readily on that they were Not Quite The Same, you know. And much of the knowledge that once was theirs, died with them, eventually, at least.
I’m not quite sure how to deal with the misogyny, which is certainly present, as either identifying or refusing to identify—judging or covering up, I guess—can be bad if it is done in the wrong way. I suppose you could do either, since they are both bad in a way, although the bad way to do it is not so good. I mean, it’s good not to lie, but the truth is a strange thing.
Stephanie is I suppose maybe the only mythology girl I’ve read so far, depending on how you count, and I have several mythology books. As an editor she’s very Wilhelmine, cut and dried, not exactly Stephen Mitchell’s sister, you know. I suppose she doesn’t have to be.
In the end, sometimes, you just find out that you didn’t know, although I suppose it’s never really the end.
Show Less