‘It’s all Greek to me’: the story behind my Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon by Caroline K. Mackenzie

 

I have just completed a little book with a rather long title, Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon. It is being published by Bloomsbury Academic and is sister to the Pocket GCSE Latin Etymological Lexicon which I wrote in 2022. It seems like yesterday that I wrote a History Girls’ Blog on the Latin Lexicon: tempus fugit.

Both books were written with GCSE students in mind but their purpose is just as much to showcase the beauty and ubiquity of these ancient languages, so the lexicons may also appeal to logophiles (‘logos’ meaning ‘word’ and ‘phileo’ ‘I love’). The GCSE vocabulary lists provide a finite list of words to work on: 450 in Latin and 409 in Greek, which was just right for this project.

To accompany the words we wanted to include illustrations and I am very fortunate that one of the members of my Classics Club, now a good friend, is a local artist, Barbarann Lang. Barbarann has exhibited work at many galleries including the Royal Academy and I had seen first-hand her beautiful paintings. So I was delighted when Barbarann agreed to create 20 illustrations for the lexicon. As Barbarann began, she became so inspired by the Greek that 20 illustrations increased to 32 and, thanks to the skill and vision of Bloomsbury and our typesetters, RefineCatch, all 32 are included in the lexicon. The illustrations really bring the Greek words to life and it seems fitting to unveil a few of them here. Hand-delivering Barbarann’s beautiful book of illustrations to the Bloomsbury offices was one of the most important and enjoyable tasks in producing the lexicon.

Bloomsbury’s London office © Caroline K. Mackenzie

Barbarann’s book of illustrations is on the table, hidden in the ‘Classics Club’ bag, the design for which is also one of Barbarann’s creations

Christopher Nolan’s much-anticipated film of the Odyssey is being released in July this year. I am not sure if the characters will be speaking any Greek but the film may inspire some audiences to read Homer’s Odyssey either in translation or even the original Greek. Homer’s Iliad was behind the 2001 film Troy in which the character of Achilles was played by Brad Pitt and it was that character who inspired Barbarann’s illustration for ‘soldier’.

'stratiotes’ (soldier) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘strategos’ (general or commander) gives us the word strategy

Greek derivatives give us the names of many subjects on the school curriculum, e.g. biology from ‘bios’ (life) and ‘logos’ (study, story, account), geography from ‘ge’ (earth) and ‘grapho’ (I write), mathematics from ‘math-‘ (the past tense of the verb meaning I learn). The letter ‘π’ has an important role in school Maths lessons. You may also recognise the Greek letter ‘μ’ (mu) to indicate ‘microgram’, or ‘μg’, which appears on cereal packets, prescriptions and vitamin bottles.

During the recent pandemic (meaning affecting ‘all people’), the Greek alphabet was used by the World Heath Organisation (‘WHO’) to label key variants of the virus that causes COVID-19. WHO issued a press release explaining that it had ‘assigned simple, easy to say and remember labels… using letters of the Greek alphabet’ because ‘scientific names can be difficult to say and recall, and are prone to misreporting.’  [Ref. below.]

On the subject of the alphabet, please don’t let that deter you from dipping into some Greek! (The word ‘alphabet’ itself derives from the names of the first two letters in the Greek alphabet, ‘alpha’ and ‘beta’.) In the introduction to the lexicon, the Greek alphabet is set out in full (24 letters) together with the English equivalents and a pronunciation guide. It is easier to learn the Greek alphabet than you may think and is, indeed, a very satisfying exercise. As Cicero reminds us in his book How to Grow Old our mind is a muscle that must be exercised as we get older and Cicero’s protagonist declares that he is teaching himself Greek in his old age. A good alternative to Sudoku, perhaps? In this blog, I have transliterated the Greek and I leave you to try the alphabet challenge another day.

‘geron’ (old man) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘geron’ combined with ‘iatros’ (doctor) gives us the word ‘geriatric’

Cicero recommends learning Greek to keep one’s mind healthy in old age

You will know the word ‘aristocracy’, which derives from ‘aristos’ (best, very good) and ‘cratos’ (rule) but lesser-known is the word ‘kakistocracy’. ‘kakistos’ means ‘worst’ or ‘very bad’ and therefore a kakistocracy is a ‘government by the least suitable or competent citizens of a state’ (definition from Oxford Languages English Dictionary on Google).

Writers may enjoy some of the literary terms derived from Greek such as ‘oxymoron’, a figure of speech by means of which contradictory terms are juxtaposed, for various effects, e.g. ‘bitter-sweet’ (Sappho, Fragment 130). (Thank you to Kevin in Classics Club for this excellent example!) In Greek ‘oxymoron’ means ‘clever-stupid’ or ‘sharp-blunt’ and is an oxymoron itself. The term ‘hyperbole’ derives from ‘hyper’ (beyond, exceeding) and ‘bol’ from ‘ballo’ (I throw or fire at) – a great origin for a word meaning excessive exaggeration. It was thanks to one particular writer that I had a suggestion for the first Greek word in the lexicon, ‘agathos’ (good). I had asked one of my tutees, named Sophie (Greek for ‘wisdom’), to help me think of a derivative and, after careful thought, she replied ‘Agatha Christie’s books are really good’.

Writers may worry that they suffer from ‘cacoethes scribendi’, an uncontrollable desire for writing or getting one’s work into print, literally ‘a bad habit for writing’. The ‘scribendi’ derives from the Latin verb ‘scribo’ (I write). Politicians are perhaps afflicted with ‘cacoethes loquendi’, an uncontrollable desire for talking, especially for giving speeches, literally ‘a bad habit for speaking’. The ‘loquendi’ derives from the Latin verb ‘loquor’ (I speak). To complete this tricolon of bad habits I came across a phrase, ‘ego-surfing’, which means searching for one’s own name on the Internet (‘ego’ meaning ‘I’ in both Latin and Greek.)

I was also delighted to discover the phrase ‘chronique scandaleuse’: a story or gossip full of scandal, or unsavoury ‘tittle-tattle’, deriving in part from the Greek word for time, ‘chronos’ (hence chronology, anachronism, synchronise, etc). This pairs nicely with a new word I learned for the Latin Lexicon: ‘quidnunc’. It refers to an inquisitive, gossiping person - the Latin literally means ‘what now?’.

Gardeners often mention the ubiquity of Latin in horticulture and Greek also plays a part here: an aspidistra is an evergreen plant with shield-like long, tough leaves, ‘aspis’ being the Greek for ‘shield’. Rhododendron derives from ‘rhodon’ (rose) and ‘dendron’ (tree). ‘Hippeastrum’ is the name of a group of plants, including the Amaryllis. It is possible that the name was given due to the flowers resembling a horse’s head, as ‘hippos’ means ‘horse’. ‘Hippos’ also gives us a derivative which is a firm favourite among my tutees: hippopotamus, literally a horse of the river (‘potamos’).

‘hippos’ (horse) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘hippos’ gives us words such as ‘hippodrome’ and ‘hippopotamus’

‘potamos’ (river) illustration © Barbarann Lang

‘potamos’ gives us words such as ‘hippopotamus’ (horse of the river)

A favourite derivative of my own is ‘cryptozoology’: the study of and search for (potentially mythical) creatures, such as the Loch Ness monster. The Greek words are ‘crypto’ (I hide) ‘zoon’ (creature) and ‘logos’ (study). I was also delighted to discover that ‘theobroma’ is the name of a group of flowering plants including the cocoa tree, ‘theobroma cacao’, the beans of which are used to make chocolate. Theobroma means ‘food of the gods’ – no wonder chocolate tastes so good.

On the subject of food, I wonder if you or any of your friends are a ‘deipnosophist’: someone whose dinner-table conversation is erudite. The term derives from Deipnosophistai, the title of a work by Athenaeus (c. AD 200) and is a combination of ‘deipnon’ (dinner) and ‘sophos’ (wise).

‘deipnon’ (dinner) illustration © Barbarann Lang

A ‘deipnosophist’ is someone whose dinner-table conversation is erudite (‘sophos’ means ‘wise’)

Medicine abounds with Greek terminology. Anything ending in ‘iatric’ signifies medical care or treatment such as ‘geriatric’ (see above) and ‘paediatric’ from ‘pais’ (child). I enjoyed learning this fun fact: the ‘pylorus’ is the opening, or gateway, from the stomach to the intestines, from ‘pyle’ (gate). The condition of having a ‘phobia’ is from the Greek word meaning fear, giving us xenophobe from ‘xenos’ (foreigner), arachnophobia from ‘arachne’ (spider) and triskaidekaphobia, literally fear of three plus ten, i.e. thirteen. Anatomy can be useful when studying Greek and Roman sculpture, too: one of the most famous statues of Aphrodite (Roman name, Venus) is titled ‘callipygian’ meaning ‘with beautiful buttocks’. 

You may have been watching the Winter Olympics and Paralympics recently. Not only did the Olympic games themselves originate in Greece but the word ‘Paralympics’ owes its name to the Greek language, ‘para’ meaning ‘beside’ or ‘parallel to’. In these games athletes, from ‘athlos’ (prize) often put themselves through agony, from ‘agon’ (contest or trial), to be the best.

The final proofs for the lexicon have arrived for checking and, as I scanned the pages, one particular entry struck me as rather autobiographical (‘autos’, self, ‘bios’, life, ‘grapho’, I write), and I wondered if my subconscious had directed my choice of derivatives…:

phil or -phile (suffix meaning ‘lover of’ or ‘loving’) bibliophile (book-lover), Hellenophile (Greek-lover), linguaphile (language-lover), logophile (word-lover), oenophile (wine-lover)

It is perhaps therefore appropriate that the cover image depicts the interior of a ‘kylix’ (drinking bowl) which would have been used at a ‘symposium’, or drinking party. When the lexicon is published I shall definitely be toasting it with a glass of Bacchus, a locally grown wine named after the Greek and Roman god of drinking, theatre and parties. ‘Cheers!’

Pocket GCSE Greek Etymological Lexicon by Caroline K. Mackenzie is available for pre-order: https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/pocket-gcse-greek-etymological-lexicon-9781350572119/
Publication date: 9th July 2026 Ebook and 6th August 2026 Paperback.

With many thanks to everyone at Classical Studies Bloomsbury, especially Alice Wright, Lucy Batrouney, Lucy Springett, Sophie Beardsworth and Sarah Ruddock; to Merv Honeywood and his team at RefineCatch; and to Barbarann Lang.

Thank you also to Caroline Lawrence, Dr John Taylor, Dr Margaret Mountford and Dr Daisy Dunn.

www.carolinetutor.co.uk

Ref: https://www.who.int/news/item/31-05-2021-who-announces-simple-easy-to-say-labels-for-sars-cov-2-variants-of-interest-and-concern.

A taste of Homer, Virgil and Ovid by Caroline K. Mackenzie

Five years ago, almost to the day, in March 2020, the pandemic had taken hold and daily life as we knew it was turned upside down. Everyone scrambled to find ways of keeping in touch, since meeting up in person was out of the question, and plans that had been made had to be abandoned. And so my Classics Club, newly formed and a weekly event in the picturesque Pavilion of Burwash Common migrated to Zoom instead. We had no idea how long the restrictions, or our reading material, would last so agreed simply to continue meeting for as long as everyone wished.

One of our members recently mentioned that we are about to celebrate our fifth birthday – tempus fugit, as Virgil observed. When Classics Club was just one year old, I wrote a History Girls' blog about its origins. Now, five years in, seems a good time to reflect on the works we have read and to share some of the highlights.

It is almost impossible to pick the ‘best bits’, as each week we have read something that resonates, entertains, surprises or even comforts us. Therefore, I decided to flick through my well-worn copies of each of the books and to stop where I noticed the most scribbles in the margin, or perhaps highlighted sections of the text, and have chosen from those pages a selection of passages which I hope you will enjoy. If you are new to Homer, Virgil and Ovid, this may give you a flavour of the style and subject matter of these wonderful poets and, I hope, tempt you to read more.

All quotations are taken from the Penguin Classics series, the cover images of which I have included for each work. I have chosen this set of translations as they were the first versions of these poems which I read and have therefore been on my bookshelves for as long as I have been studying and teaching Classics. But the variations between translations and the difficulty of choosing just one for each Greek or Latin work was the topic of a History Girls’ blog I wrote last year.

As these passages are simply a taster, I have not attempted to summarise the stories of the epics or provide a detailed background. Some of the themes, such as the Trojan War, or characters from Greek mythology, such as the Cyclops, may be familiar in any event. However, for each one I have noted whether the original poem was Greek or Latin and the approximate date when the poem was composed and/or completed. The dates for Homer’s epics are approximate and the source of much academic debate.

Homer’s Iliad - Greek - around 750BC

Homer’s characters often utter observations which have a distinctly proverbial flavour, such as this musing by one of the warriors on the battlefield outside Troy:

The generation of men is just like that of leaves. The wind scatters one year’s leaves on the ground, but the forest burgeons and puts out others, as the season of spring comes round. So it is with men: one generation grows on, and another is passing away. (Book 6: 146-9.)

Or this:

…whatever we do, the fates of death stand over us in a thousand forms, and no mortal can run from them or escape them… (Book 12: 326-7.)

Homer is also known for his vivid and striking similes. The Trojan prince, Paris, whose love affair with Helen was the cause of the Trojan war, is cleverly captured with this simile:

Paris did not dally long in his high house, but once he had put on his glorious armour of intricate bronze, he dashed through the city, sure of the speed of his legs. As when some stalled horse who has fed full at the manger breaks his halter and gallops thudding across the plain, eager for his usual bathe in the lovely flow of a river, and glorying as he runs. He holds his head high, and the mane streams back along his shoulders: sure of his own magnificence, his legs carry him lightly to the haunts where the mares are at pasture. So Paris, son of Priam, came down from the height of Pergamos, bright in his armour like the beaming sun, and laughing as he came, his quick legs carrying him on. (Book 6: 503-14.)

Similes are also used to heighten the pathos of a scene. Note here the reference to Menelaos, the Spartan king and husband of Helen, now in the thick of the Trojan war and trying to reclaim his wife from Paris:

As when a woman stains ivory with crimson dye, in Maionia or Caria, making a cheek-piece for horses. It lies there in her room, and many horsemen yearn to have it for the wearing: but it waits there to be a treasure for a king, both horse’s finery and rider’s glory. Such, Menelaos was the staining with blood of your sturdy thighs, and your legs, and your fine ankles below. (Book 4: 141-7.)

A simile is used to great effect to describe the leader of the Greeks, and brother of Menelaos, Agamemnon:

Agamemnon rose to speak, letting his tears fall like a spring of black water which trickles its dark stream down a sheer rock’s face. (Book 9: 13-15.)

Words, so important in Homer’s oral tradition, are often likened to nature:

But when he released that great voice from his chest and the words which flocked down like snowflakes in winter, no other mortal man could then rival Odysseus. (Book 3: 221-3.)

Nestor the sweet-spoken, … from his tongue the words flowed sweeter than honey. (Book 1: 247-9.)

Homer’s Odyssey - Greek - around 725BC

Odysseus returns home to Ithaca after twenty years of absence: 10 years at the Trojan war and 10 years making his tumultuous journey home. He is disguised but his faithful dog recognises him:

As they stood talking, a dog lying there lifted his head and pricked up his ears. Argus was his name. Patient Odysseus himself had owned and bred him, though he had sailed for holy Ilium [Troy] before he could reap the benefit… in his owner’s absence, he lay abandoned on the heaps of dung from the mules and cattle which lay in profusion at the gate…. But directly he became aware of Odysseus’ presence, he wagged his tail and dropped his ears, though he lacked the strength now to come nearer his master. Odysseus turned his eyes away, and, making sure Eumaeus did not notice, brushed away a tear….. As for Argus, the black hand of Death descended on him the moment he caught sight of Odysseus – after twenty years. (Book 17: 291-305… 326-7.)

Odysseus is cunning, crafty and has a way with words. The word-play in the following episode is one of his more famous tricks. The Cyclops has just eaten alive some of Odysseus’ companions and washes them down with wine. Odysseus is narrating the story:

The Cyclops took the wine and drank it up. And the delicious drink gave him such exquisite pleasure that he asked me for another bowlful. “Give me more, please, and tell me your name, here and now – I would like to make you a gift that will please you. We Cyclopes have wine of our own made from the grapes that our rich soil and rains from Zeus produce. But this vintage of yours is a drop of the real nectar and ambrosia.”…

“Cyclops,” I said, “you ask me my name. I’ll tell it to you; and in return give me the gift you promised me. My name is Nobody.”…

The Cyclops answered me from his cruel heart. “Of all his company I will eat Nobody last, and the rest before him. That shall be your gift.” He had hardly spoken before he toppled over and fell face upwards on the floor, where he lay with his great neck twisted to one side, and all-compelling sleep overpowered him. In his drunken stupor he vomited, and a stream of wine mixed with morsels of men’s flesh poured from his throat. (Book 9: 353-9… 364-74.)

Odysseus and his men seize the opportunity and drive a sharpened olive stake, heated in fire, into the Cyclops’ single eye, blinding him. He shrieks and calls for help from his fellow Cyclopes who gather outside his cave and ask what is wrong and whether somebody is trying to kill him. The conversation that follows goes like this:

“O my friends, it's Nobody’s treachery… that is doing me to death.”

“Well then," came the immediate reply, "if you are alone and nobody is assaulting you, you must be sick… and cannot be helped.” (Book 9: 408, 410-11.)

Odysseus’ trick has worked, just as the Trojan horse trick worked, another of Odysseus’ cunning plans, which brought an end to the ten year Trojan war. That story was not told by Homer but by our next poet, Virgil, in his epic poem, the Aeneid.

Virgil’s Aeneid - Latin - 19 BC

Virgil’s use of personification is perhaps best showcased in this wonderful description of rumour. An ancient take on ‘fake news’:

Rumour did not take long to go through the great cities of Libya. Of all the ills there are, Rumour is the swiftest. She thrives on movement and gathers strength as she goes. From small and timorous beginnings she soon lifts herself up into the air, her feet still on the ground and her head hidden in the clouds…. Rumour is quick of foot and swift on the wing, a huge and horrible monster, and under every feather on her body, strange to tell, there lies an eye that never sleeps, a mouth and tongue that are never silent and an ear always pricked. By night she flies between earth and sky, squawking through the darkness, and never lowers her eyelids in sweet sleep. By day she keeps watch perched on the tops of gables or on high towers and causes fear in great cities, holding fast to her lies and distortions as often as she tells the truth. (Book 4: 173-88.)

Book 4 is dedicated to the story of Dido and Aeneas. If you only have time to read one book of the Aeneid, this might be the one to pick. It inspired Purcell’s opera Dido and Aeneas which includes the haunting and exquisite Dido’s Lament. Virgil’s account hints at the tragic ending with this observation:

Love is a cruel master. There are no lengths to which it does not force the human heart. (Book 4: 412.)

Ovid’s Metamorphoses - Latin - AD 8

Perhaps what sets Ovid apart from Homer and Virgil is his wit and rather mischievous take on popular myths. He can certainly rival his predecessors in beautiful narrative and storytelling but this passage demonstrates his comic portrayal of the man-eating monster, the Cyclops, named Polyphemus, whom we met above. In Ovid’s version, Polyphemus has fallen in love with a beautiful nymph, Galatea, and attempts to win her affections:

The wild Polyphemus was combing his prickly locks with a mattock, attempting to trim his shaggy beard with a pruning-hook, and trying to look less fierce when he gazed at his face in a pool…. (Book 13: 765-7.)

“Truly, I know myself, I recently saw my reflection in pure clear water and liked the image that met my gaze…Don’t think me ugly because my body’s a bristling thicket of prickly hair….I’ve only one eye on my brow, in the middle, but that is as big as a fair-sized shield. Does it matter?” (Book 13: 840-1, 846, 851-2.)

Ovid invites sympathy for Polyphemus and shows his romantic side when Polyphemus attempts to woo Galatea with promises of gifts: 

“My orchards are groaning with apples, my trailing vines are swollen with grapes, both golden yellow and purply red; I am storing each harvest for your delight.” (Book 13: 812-4.)

Sadly for Polyphemus his love is unrequited and, to add insult to injury, his beloved Galatea is smitten instead with ‘a beautiful boy of sixteen, with the first smooth down on his cheeks’ (753-4) – quite the opposite of a huge, hairy monster. Polyphemus’ romantic side soon turns to anger when he is rejected and he issues this threat about his love rival: 

“I’ll draw his guts from his living body, then tear it to pieces and scatter his limbs all over the fields and the waves where your home is.” (Book 13: 865-6.)

This sounds more like the Cyclops we met in Homer.

What next? Greek plays - 5th century BC

It is hard to follow the works of Homer, Virgil and Ovid but, inspired by our theatre trips to West End productions of Oedipus (two different ones within just a few months) and Elektra, Classics Club will spend the summer term reading Greek tragedies written by the playwrights, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides. One of our members discovered this lovely edition with 16 plays in total: how will we choose which ones to read together? Perhaps we shall simply read them all.

www.carolinetutor.co.uk

Classics Club during Covid by Caroline K. Mackenzie

Caroline K. Mackenzie tells the story of her Classics Club and how it has provided her with companionship and inspiration during lockdown.

Classics Club began with an odyssey around the art and archaeology of Greece and Rome (Image: The Caryatids of the Erechtheion in Athens).

This image appeared on my flyers as a visual ‘amuse-bouche’.

© Caroline K. Mackenzie.

A couple of years ago, I decided to set up a ‘Classics Club’. I had moved to a new area and thought it would be a good way to meet new people and share my love of the ancient world. The village has a lovely Pavilion, next to the cricket pitch, and this seemed an ideal venue: not too large to be impersonal, but spacious enough to feel like a classroom. I resolved that, even if no-one turned up to Classics Club, I would still happily spend Monday mornings there with my books in the tranquil surroundings.

The first term was to be a series of lectures on Classical Art and Archaeology. I had just completed an MA on this subject, so my research was fresh in my mind and I was keen to share it. I printed some flyers and set about distributing them. Local businesses were brilliantly supportive and displayed my flyers on notice boards, included them in e-newsletters and generally spread the word. This also gave me the perfect excuse to visit every local coffee shop and pub, leaflets in hand: much coffee and cake was consumed en route, all in the name of marketing.

If you have read my previous post (A Latin Lexicon) you may already have gathered that I am rather fond of coffee and cake. So it seemed natural to include these as part of Classics Club (not least as I liked the alliteration). I hoped it would be an incentive for people to try out Classics Club and would make meeting at the Pavilion a more sociable event.

Classics Club before Covid.

Coffee and cakes were the secret to keeping the numbers up!

© Caroline K. Mackenzie.

For the second term, we planned a smaller reading class which would allow more group discussion and an in-depth look at some of the wonderful Classical literature. Homer’s ‘Iliad’ seemed the perfect place to start. However, after just a few weeks, the pandemic had taken hold and all group meetings had to be abandoned. What were we to do? Zoom came to the rescue.

We had a rather bumpy first session - I kept losing my internet connection so constantly moved around the house until I ended up sitting on the bedroom floor in half-darkness to avoid screen glare. However, everyone was very patient - the thrill of actually being able to ‘see’ each other after the abrupt confinement to our homes gave us the drive to persist. Within a few weeks we had settled into our new routine, and Homer led the way.

Coffee and cake or ‘dainties’ (to borrow a popular translation of Homer’s word for ‘nibbles’) were now ‘bring your own’. However, holding the class online meant that members from further afield could join us, even from abroad. We tackle about 300 lines of Homer a week and even at this steady pace we run out of time to discuss all that we should like to. Homer is such a rich quarry of material, with his observations on the frailty of humanity seeming as urgent and relevant as ever. Not only does Homer bring reassurance but also much needed escapism. We have had some hilarious debates about our favourite characters (mine’s Hektor: I even named my rescue cat after him) and we can’t decide whether to love or hate Achilles, with his arrogant swagger and shameful treatment of Hektor’s corpse.

The longevity and popularity of Homer’s work may largely be thanks to the skill and sensitivity with which he examines human emotions and experiences: hope, fear, love, friendship, family and, of course, death. The poet even seems to have known (or at least hoped) that his work would be immortalised when his leading lady, Helen of Troy, delivers this telling line as she bemoans her ill-fated affair with Paris, the cause of the Trojan war: ‘On us two Zeus has set a doom of misery, so that in time to come we can be themes of song for men of future generations’. That line fills me with delight every time I read it, sending a shiver down my spine: I can’t help wondering, ‘What would Homer have thought of us (three generations in one group no less) discussing his poem 2,700 years later, via Zoom?’. It’s certainly a new twist on the ‘oral tradition’.

 

Achilles, star of the ‘Iliad’: petulant Mummy’s boy or heroic role model?

© Caroline K. Mackenzie.

Perhaps just as important as celebrating Homer’s legacy, Classics Club during Covid has provided an anchor to the week - for me, there is a comforting routine to our regular Monday morning meetings which set me up for my week of teaching (one to one Latin and Greek tutoring, much of which is based on Homer’s works and stories). The group has formed firm friendships and this last year feels almost like a rite of passage - the unique experience of having travelled together through every line of the ‘Iliad’ in such unprecedented times. Homer’s compelling narrative of tragedy, drama and, at times, comedy is beautifully framed by his famous similes depicting the power of nature. In many ways, his narrative has reflected our experiences through the pandemic - the losses we have suffered among family and friends, our finding comfort in those close to us, and our longing to be outdoors among nature for peace and reflection. One of the ‘Iliad’s’ best-known phrases ‘Before the Greeks came…’ seems ironically reflected in our own words (heard rather frequently these days) ‘Before the pandemic came…’.

One of our group was even inspired to create a Classics Club logo, pictured below. It depicts Hektor and Achilles in action, with the Trojan horse behind them, and incorporates the lovely diagonal composition that was a favoured technique of the Greek sculptors and artists. The grapes are a nod to the wine which the Homeric heroes frequently drink and offer to the gods and are also reminiscent of Homer’s epithet for the sea as ‘wine-dark’. Framing the image are the words ‘Classics Club’ in English, Greek and Latin. The Greek version means ‘Greek club’ and the word for Classics in Latin should strictly also be ‘Greek’ (Graecus) but we thought we should give the Romans their due, hence ‘Romanus’. The Greek word for club also means ‘companionship’ and the Latin one is literally ‘a circle or group for conversation’. Both these descriptions fit our group rather well. We also had a competition to compose a motto for our class to accompany the logo. The winning entry was: ‘legere, loqui, libere’, the Latin for ‘To read, to discuss, to enjoy’.

 

‘legere, loqui, libere’. Classics Club logo: © Lang.

The future of Classics Club

Before Covid, Classics Club had also had some fun days out together. We attended lectures at the British Museum and combined these with tours of the Greek and Roman galleries. Of course, all trips have had to be postponed for the time being but we are looking forward to some more Classical adventures in due course.

 

Classics Club visit to the British Museum - the rain didn’t keep us away.

© Caroline K. Mackenzie.

I have also promised the group a party. As soon as we are permitted, Classics Club will reunite in the Pavilion where I shall ensure the wine is flowing as abundantly as the Homeric hexameters.

In the meantime, we shall shortly be setting sail with Homer’s ‘Odyssey’, arguably the sequel to the ‘Iliad’, but an epic that can be enjoyed in its own right (and it is actually my favourite of the two works). In due course we shall return where we began, to the picturesque Pavilion, in the manner of ‘ring composition’ (a narrative framing device favoured by Homer whereby an episode begins and ends symmetrically). But for those Classicists further afield, I shall also be running a parallel class on Zoom.

As I type this, Classics Club ‘online’ is approaching the end of its first year, so it seems rather appropriate that we are just embarking on the concluding books of the ‘Iliad’. It has been quite an odyssey (forgive the pun). Our meeting next Monday will fall a day before our first birthday - I think I shall put a candle in my slice of cake…

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Free lecture on Lullingstone

The final lecture of Classics Club pre-Covid was about Lullingstone Roman Villa in Kent, the subject of my first book and also my first ever blog for the History Girls: Culture and Society at Lullingstone Roman Villa. Last week I delivered an updated lecture on the same topic hosted by my publisher, Archaeopress. So by way of offering you a slice of Classics Club (without the cake, I’m afraid) I attach a link below in case it is of interest. P.S. If you watch the talk you will find a code for a 25% discount on both my books.

 

An evening with Archaeopress: ‘Culture and Society at Lullingstone Roman Villa’. 

Click here to watch the recorded lecture: An Evening with Archaeopress: Caroline K. Mackenzie

Classics Club - new classes starting soon!

I shall be starting a new Classics Club reading group on Monday 10th May 3pm GMT. We shall be reading Homer's ‘Odyssey’ over the course of the year. Meetings will be via Zoom every week for 1h30mins. The first hour is a presentation of the text by me followed by 30mins discussion. Cost is £10 per session. For more information or to reserve a place, please get in touch:

Twitter:  @carolinetutor

Website: www.carolinetutor.co.uk
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Acknowledgements

First, thank you to Mary Hoffman and all the History Girls.

Thank you to our local Pavilion and its committee for providing Classics Club’s first home. Looking forward to coming back to you soon! (Hopefully we won’t take as long as Odysseus to return home.) Thank you also to all the local businesses who happily displayed my flyers (and for the delicious ‘dainties’).

Thank you also to everyone at Archaeopress, especially Patrick Harris.

Last but certainly not least, huge thanks to all the members of Classics Club for your support and friendship, particularly all of you who have joined me throughout lockdown.

Mary Beard's "Women & Power: A Manifesto" by Janie Hampton

Professor Mary Beard, © Caterina Turroni

Professor Mary Beard is Britain’s most famous classicist and The History Girl’s History Girl. Her book Women and Power: A Manifesto is a reminder of  the progress, or lack of, that women have achieved in the last hundred years.
This highly readable book of 100 short pages is based on two lectures Mary Beard gave for the London Review of Books at the British Museum in 2007 and 2014. She uses classical examples to remind us of the deep strata of ugly gender prejudice that underlie what women are still up against. “This is not,” Beard insists, “the peculiar ideology of some distant culture, however distant in time it may be.”

Telemachus tells his mother Penelope to keep on weaving, Athenian pot, 500 BC

She takes the story right back to the first known account of misogyny: Homer’s Odyssey, composed almost 3000 years ago. Telemachus, the teenage son of Odysseus, ordered his middle-aged mother Penelope to be quiet and go back upstairs to her weaving, and leave the men to get on with the important job of talking to each other. Haven't we all been there? I am old enough to have been to dinner parties where after the cheese course, the women withdrew to the drawing room to chat about childcare and recipes, leaving the men to drink port, smoke cigars and discuss world affairs (or so we assumed). My innocent husband once tried to join us women, but was physically barred from leaving the dining room by our host! Telemachus was learning the art of being a real man, which included telling women to be quiet. How many women readers of The History Girls have sat on committees, and either not been allowed to speak or had their bright idea taken up by, and credited to, a man?
Beard explores with wry wit and accessible language, the early history of misogyny and how it has been reinforced ever since Western “civilization” began. She gives the stories of three women who spoke up in the Roman forum. Unfortunately, according to the male Roman writing about her, Maesia "really had a man’s nature"; and as for Afrania, her speech was “yapping and barking”. Her demise in 48 BC was recorded, only because "with unnatural freaks like this" it was more important to record her death than her birth. The third woman, Hortensia, was only permitted to speak for other women, and not on behalf of men too. There are echoes here of modern governments that have Ministries of Women. “Look,” say the ruling men. “We have a Ministry for Women. We can’t possibly be misogynists." Like the dinner parties, the women are encouraged to knit and cook, leaving the men to govern the important things like the economy and war.
Demeaning language about ‘yapping’ women also continues today. In 2017, a Times headline screamed “Women prepared for Power Grab of London in Church, Police and BBC.” While men are awarded positions of power and authority, women have to grab them, pushing aside those unfortunate, less qualified men who previously gained the work or positions.
Little has changed in two thousand years. The image of Donald Trump as the Greek god Perseus holding aloft the decapitated head of Hillary Clinton as Medusa, was an unpleasant and graphic warning during the 2016 U.S. election campaign of how Trump would rule as president.

Donald Trump as Perseus with the head of Medusa depicted as Hillary Clinton, 2016.

Beard’s saddest observation is that women are their own worst enemies. Women often condone and reinforce misogyny, and behave and present themselves as "almost men." In 1588, Queen Elizabeth I is reputed to have encouraged her troops who were about to face the Spanish Armada, with the words, “I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king.” In other words, “Forget I’m a woman, I’m as good as a man.” She knew that only by ignoring her sex could she hang onto her power: with marriage and babies she would lose it. 

Elizabeth I rousing her troops at Tilbury, 1588.
She seems to be giving  'two fingers' to the Spanish.

Margaret Thatcher and Theresa May both reached their positions of high power by emulating men’s deep voices and long strides. Neither woman has behaved, at least in public, in a feminist or friendly way to other women, although they have both cleverly made use of a symbol of womanhood to reinforce their positions: Thatcher’s hand-bag became a weapon and May’s uses her kitten-heeled shoes to mollify. Hillary Clinton and Angela Merkel both wear trouser suits, presumably to ‘blend in’ with the men. “Having women pretend to be men may be a quick fix, but it doesn’t get to the heart of the problem,” writes Beard.
Even though Mary Beard has broken through many of the barriers preventing women from achieving their potential, she still suffers abuse just for being herself. Without appealing for sympathy, she reflects on how she has been treated in both print and social media. She has not been judged on her skills or intelligence, but on what she looks like. The late food critic A.A. Gill commented not on the content of her television programmes but on her teeth, hair and clothes; and judged her to be "too ugly for television". Although undoubtedly hurt, (even tough, hard-working women have feelings) she fought back against "the blokeish culture that loves to decry clever women" and hoped to show young women that there was more than one way of being a woman, and of growing older.
Despite gratuitously rude men like Gill, Beard is both respected by her academic peers and admired by television viewers for her authenticity. In 2013, I saw her presented with “The Oldie Pin-up of the Year Award” at the smart London restaurant “Simpson's in the Strand”. In a forthright and witty speech to the male-dominated audience, she made no concessions. She was probably the only woman present not wearing lipstick, and certainly the only one in a comfortable grey cardigan.
Beard considers how the exclusion of women from power is culturally embedded, and how the views of male ancient Greeks are still repeated, in order to make gender violence seem normal. As Jacqueline Rose wrote in The Guardian, Beard describes “the poison of patriarchy as it drips into the body politic of what parades under the banner of civilisation.”
All round the world there are women who dare not speak at all, even when raped. Let’s hope that the news of sexual harassment from Hollywood and Westminster will not become tomorrow’s chip-wrappers. Those who support the ‘witch-hunt’ hypothesis certainly hope so. Beard notes that sexual predation is about power, and it is the men who usually have that; if they happen to be film producers or politicians, even more so.
Beard makes a plea that women should be allowed to make mistakes, and then pick themselves up without being pilloried. “If I was starting this book again from scratch,” she writes, “I would find more space to defend women’s right to be wrong.”
The conclusion that Beard comes to is a surprise. Women must stop trying to gain equal power because power itself is designed by men, and not what we really want or need. Society will only improve when power is redefined. "We don’t have a model or a template for what a powerful woman looks like,” she writes. “We only have templates that make them men." This brilliant and readable book will hopefully make us all wonder how can we help men to achieve equality for women. And ask, what would a world with articulate women allowed to speak look like? Would there be less violence? No rape, no guns? More equality?
Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard published by Profile (£7.99).
PS I have noted the irony that I have used Mary Beard’s father’s name – the patrilineal. Even journalists and academics model themselves against men!