5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
4 degrees of separation, November 28, 2010
This review is from: The Lusiads (Penguin Classics) (Paperback)
Does a nation crown its own bard, or does the positive verdict of outsiders and time compel it to rally behind its received representative? In either case, Portugal claims Camoes. His curriculum vitae was certainly up to the task, perhaps having more first hand experience of war's travails, foreign locales, and acquaintance with diverse peoples than any other epic writer before him. Some however, might use his case to question Thoreau's dictum: "standing up to live before sitting down to write" might not be sufficient.
Camoes, like Vergil, had deathbed pangs of literary humility, and did not want his work to see the light of day. Thankfully, also like Vergil, he was in communion with others who had high enough artistic sensibilities to think otherwise. There is much to appreciate in "The Lusiads." Camoes, by all appearances as dedicated to God as to the Muses, does a masterful balancing act with the cosmos, building an orthodox Catholic compatible framework of heaven and earth where the Olympian gods can play out their classically enchanting roles without sacrificing expression or offending papal authority. An unexpected antagonist is found in Dionysus, and Venus serves her (well-practiced) guiding role for the hero. This creates a strange polarization of the sensual gods, and it works. Sometimes myth, religion, and modern geography meld beautifully: the convocation of the Nereids, Adamastor guarding the cape of Good Hope, and the "locus amoenus" episode on the Island of Samoa breathe original new life into myth as well as the very best of Renaissance literature.
There is a lot of direct and lengthy exhortation to what Camoens implies are lazy compatriots lacking the zeal even to seek wealth and fame, if killing treacherous Muslims and spreading the glory of the crown and cross were not motivation enough. ("The Lusiads" incidentally offers a significant quantity of Islamophobia. No "infidel" is trustworthy, and refuge is sooner to be found with pagan peoples, the likes of which the hero De Gama and other Conquistadors spared no violence.) And those heavy-handed exhortations are what ultimately brands Camoes as a second rate bard: the tale of the epic proper cannot rise to Vergilian, let alone Homeric heights in his hands, and cannot reach people on the merit of its art alone. His boasts that the Portuguese have bested Roman valor in foreign conquest and Phoenecian seafaring in spreading trade could well be true, but epic is - at its essence - not history, and he has great trouble separating the two. It is unclear how the oftentimes petty Portuguese feudal nobility, (whom we read about in a bloated ecphrasis at the reception of dignitaries at port in India,) produce such an unwaveringly brave warrior class, and there are hints of rising imperial competition from England and France. Camoes' patriotism is insecure, never allowing his readers to experience a mythical past of heroes who transcend human boundaries and provide a timeless inspiration. He strikes a devil's bargain by stressing the historicity of De Gama's and Portugal's achievements to justify their epic-worthiness, and the unflattering or insipid elements of real life tarnish the final product.
Atkinson states in his introduction (after making the usual apologies about the difficulties of translation) that he has little use for the poetic vehicle of "The Lusiads." In his own words, this version aims to offer a "service to the living, not a pious tribute to the dead." I don't know just what "service" Atkinson thinks the living seek out when they pick up this crown jewel of Portuguese poetry. I should be clear that this is a fine prose translation, but I suspect that there is probably more to be appreciated when "The Lusiads" is set even to English verse, let alone kept in the original.
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