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3.61 AVERAGE
3.61 AVERAGE
Huh. What to say? I read this mostly for interest's sake, as an early specimen of "story", apart from the Bible but set in that time, and not necessarily as an interesting book or novel that grabbed my attention and pulled me into the story.
I didn't really have too much of an emotional response to this book, or appreciation of it aside from an intellectual curiosity, except that it did make me sad that mankind so quickly after the great flood rejected the one true God and embraced false gods and idols so readily. đ«€ And unlike the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.... these gods offered no hope or redemption, a reality very clearly portrayed in this story.
I didn't really have too much of an emotional response to this book, or appreciation of it aside from an intellectual curiosity, except that it did make me sad that mankind so quickly after the great flood rejected the one true God and embraced false gods and idols so readily. đ«€ And unlike the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.... these gods offered no hope or redemption, a reality very clearly portrayed in this story.
adventurous
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
emotional
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
challenging
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
The Epic of Gilgamesh is thousands of years old, and in its pages (well, tablets) you can find a lot of genres and messages, which is fitting for something that may really have been a collection of stories about the same characters rather than one single epic work.
It is also probably one of my single favorite pieces of writing ever made. Partly, because it makes a lot of rather bold choices. Our protagonist, Gilgamesh, doesn't start out as a particularly good person - in fact, he starts out as a terrible one. He's "humanized" a great deal by Enkidu's friendship, but you could be forgiven for being uncertain if this redeems him or if he's just not as much of a threat to the people around him anymore. The story bounces from cautionary tale about what absolute power and a sense of entitlement can do to a person and everyone around them, to buddy comedy about two superheroes fighting monsters, to...well, a meditation on death, loss, mourning, loneliness, legacy, and choice. I won't spoil the thousands-of-years-old story, but let's just say that if the Epic has a "central" message...it's that everything and everyone ends. But your choices along the way matter, and the results of those choices will live on past their maker. Don't let loss move you to apathy and nihilism.
To paraphrase Trent Reznor and extrapolate from an ancient text: everyone you know goes away in the end. But you knew them and they knew you. That matters. What you do, who you loved, who loved you, what you build, what you become, matters. Even though it ends.
Also, while to some extent it depends on the translation, this story has some of the most genuinely beautiful lines ever written.
"Put your hand in mine, and we will not fear what hands like ours can do."
It is also probably one of my single favorite pieces of writing ever made. Partly, because it makes a lot of rather bold choices. Our protagonist, Gilgamesh, doesn't start out as a particularly good person - in fact, he starts out as a terrible one. He's "humanized" a great deal by Enkidu's friendship, but you could be forgiven for being uncertain if this redeems him or if he's just not as much of a threat to the people around him anymore. The story bounces from cautionary tale about what absolute power and a sense of entitlement can do to a person and everyone around them, to buddy comedy about two superheroes fighting monsters, to...well, a meditation on death, loss, mourning, loneliness, legacy, and choice. I won't spoil the thousands-of-years-old story, but let's just say that if the Epic has a "central" message...it's that everything and everyone ends. But your choices along the way matter, and the results of those choices will live on past their maker. Don't let loss move you to apathy and nihilism.
To paraphrase Trent Reznor and extrapolate from an ancient text: everyone you know goes away in the end. But you knew them and they knew you. That matters. What you do, who you loved, who loved you, what you build, what you become, matters. Even though it ends.
Also, while to some extent it depends on the translation, this story has some of the most genuinely beautiful lines ever written.
"Put your hand in mine, and we will not fear what hands like ours can do."
It would be a folly to assume that we are wiser than the ancient humans. Sure, we might have âmodernâ sensibilities, but we have numbed ourselves to such extent that we are out of touch with some of the great questions that plagued even the earliest civilised humans. And if we donât grapple with these big questions everyday, are we even really human? The fear of death and coming to terms with our mortality is a fundamental part of being human, and that which sets us apart from animals and gods â for gods never die, and animals donât comprehend death in the sense that we do.
And so, Gilgamesh is known as He Who Saw the Deep, for in his quest for immortality, and ultimately learning to accept death, he uncovers the deep primeval secrets of our world. Of course, weâre not explicitly told any of this, nor are we revealed any grand divine secrets. You will have to arrive at these conclusions, and more, on your own (which is great, because a good story doesnât spoon-feed, but leaves people scratching their heads for centuries.)
The Epic of Gilgamesh is an anti-quest, because the characters do not attain their objective. They slay âmonstersâ, but rather than being crowned heroes, are punished for it. They are the sinners who are cast out of âEdenâ. Gilgamesh fails to achieve his primary goal of immortality and after a series of trials, learns to accept his mortality, ultimately coming out all the more wiser. Isnât this reminiscent of the actual human condition? Often we set out on a long arduous journey to attain fruits that are not meant for us. We fail, but along the way, find something that we didnât know we actually needed â perhaps a nugget of wisdom, or a stronger will.
Itâs bizarre to think that I could read the oldest story ever written on an iPad (a different kind of tablet, I guess). More than 4000 years after its conception. It is said no one truly dies who is remembered. The day you die is the day nobody remembers you anymore. So seems like
Gilgamesh did achieve that immortality, after all.
The story begins and ends in a circular fashion with glorious descriptions of Uruk, the capital city of ancient Sumer, and what is thought to be the oldest city in the world. It is a testament to human endeavour and persistence. We have books and cities today because of the Sumerians. Gilgamesh himself might not have found the secret to eternal life, but the cities he founded have been the pillars of civilisation, which is a form of immortality in itself.
And so, while one humanâs life might be short, the collective human civilisation has lasted through the long ages, all because we overcame the idea that human life is futile. âWhat is the point of doing anything in this lifetime if Iâm just going to die anyway? It will all have been for nothing.â Except itâs not, and the earliest (known) story is proof of that.
Stephen Mitchellâs introduction is a book in itself, and makes the actual reading of the poem quite fulfilling. While not a one for one translation, itâs a great edition for first time readers, as Mitchell fills in many of the fragmentary passages in the Babylonian version of the text, with information we know from the Sumerian versions. The language is a little choppy (nothing beats reading it in the original Akkadian, Iâm sure), but it flows without any noticeable breaks and makes for a smooth read, which is not going to be the case if you were to read the actual clay tablets.
And so, Gilgamesh is known as He Who Saw the Deep, for in his quest for immortality, and ultimately learning to accept death, he uncovers the deep primeval secrets of our world. Of course, weâre not explicitly told any of this, nor are we revealed any grand divine secrets. You will have to arrive at these conclusions, and more, on your own (which is great, because a good story doesnât spoon-feed, but leaves people scratching their heads for centuries.)
The Epic of Gilgamesh is an anti-quest, because the characters do not attain their objective. They slay âmonstersâ, but rather than being crowned heroes, are punished for it. They are the sinners who are cast out of âEdenâ. Gilgamesh fails to achieve his primary goal of immortality and after a series of trials, learns to accept his mortality, ultimately coming out all the more wiser. Isnât this reminiscent of the actual human condition? Often we set out on a long arduous journey to attain fruits that are not meant for us. We fail, but along the way, find something that we didnât know we actually needed â perhaps a nugget of wisdom, or a stronger will.
Itâs bizarre to think that I could read the oldest story ever written on an iPad (a different kind of tablet, I guess). More than 4000 years after its conception. It is said no one truly dies who is remembered. The day you die is the day nobody remembers you anymore. So seems like
Gilgamesh did achieve that immortality, after all.
The story begins and ends in a circular fashion with glorious descriptions of Uruk, the capital city of ancient Sumer, and what is thought to be the oldest city in the world. It is a testament to human endeavour and persistence. We have books and cities today because of the Sumerians. Gilgamesh himself might not have found the secret to eternal life, but the cities he founded have been the pillars of civilisation, which is a form of immortality in itself.
And so, while one humanâs life might be short, the collective human civilisation has lasted through the long ages, all because we overcame the idea that human life is futile. âWhat is the point of doing anything in this lifetime if Iâm just going to die anyway? It will all have been for nothing.â Except itâs not, and the earliest (known) story is proof of that.
Stephen Mitchellâs introduction is a book in itself, and makes the actual reading of the poem quite fulfilling. While not a one for one translation, itâs a great edition for first time readers, as Mitchell fills in many of the fragmentary passages in the Babylonian version of the text, with information we know from the Sumerian versions. The language is a little choppy (nothing beats reading it in the original Akkadian, Iâm sure), but it flows without any noticeable breaks and makes for a smooth read, which is not going to be the case if you were to read the actual clay tablets.
emotional
reflective
sad
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
doomed yaoi;
enkidu my brother, whom i loved, the end of mortality has overtaken him.
how can i be silent, how can i rest, when enkidu whom i love is dust, and i too shall die and be laid in the earth.
enkidu my brother, whom i loved, the end of mortality has overtaken him.
how can i be silent, how can i rest, when enkidu whom i love is dust, and i too shall die and be laid in the earth.
adventurous
emotional
funny
informative
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Iâm tempted to try and write something poetic and cool but whatever itâs hindering my ability to pen my thoughts so iâll just do my usual word vomit bs.
Gilgamesh is much shorter than I expected and littered with both copious repetition and gaps in its fragments. The former is intentional, with the latter being incidental (some might say unfortunate), but both are utilised with great emotional impact. Is there any better tool to portray the desperation of exploring fathomless caves or the insurmountable grief of loss? The poem seemingly lapses into silence, incapable of conveying the ineffable.
Gilgamesh himself is an interesting figure. Heâs charged with the bravado we expect from cocky, entitled, and often charismatic men, while filled with an uncaring devaluation of any life that doesnât belong to himself. At the same time, his love for Enkidu is deep and rich, and the bond they share is a sweet, loving one. While homoeroticism is present, I donât think Gilgameshâs queerness is very important to the text. It does, however, contribute to a multifaceted portrayal of Gilgameshâs masculinity, one tainted by both hubris and an emotionality â Gilgamesh weeps, crying out to be reassured, seeking assistance from the divine with every move he makes.
Enkidu, too, is an intriguing figure, with his prelapsarian innocence corrupted by intercourse with a priestess. Enkidu seems to act as a voice of morality and reason throughout the poem, providing guidance to Gilgamesh in moments of need.
Perhaps we should also consider the portrayal of the divine, who are seen as capricious and often selfish figures. Gilgamesh and Enkidu execute their whims, but are ultimately unable to achieve their divinity (outside of the divinity of fame itself). Furthermore, Enkiduâs only real reward seems to be death. Humbabaâs own worship of the Gods also falls to save him from slaughter. In my opinion, the central conflict in Gilgamesh is one of men against the divine and their helplessness in the face of it â Gilgameshâs own fame is not won, but bestowed by the divine.
Gilgamesh is much shorter than I expected and littered with both copious repetition and gaps in its fragments. The former is intentional, with the latter being incidental (some might say unfortunate), but both are utilised with great emotional impact. Is there any better tool to portray the desperation of exploring fathomless caves or the insurmountable grief of loss? The poem seemingly lapses into silence, incapable of conveying the ineffable.
Gilgamesh himself is an interesting figure. Heâs charged with the bravado we expect from cocky, entitled, and often charismatic men, while filled with an uncaring devaluation of any life that doesnât belong to himself. At the same time, his love for Enkidu is deep and rich, and the bond they share is a sweet, loving one. While homoeroticism is present, I donât think Gilgameshâs queerness is very important to the text. It does, however, contribute to a multifaceted portrayal of Gilgameshâs masculinity, one tainted by both hubris and an emotionality â Gilgamesh weeps, crying out to be reassured, seeking assistance from the divine with every move he makes.
Enkidu, too, is an intriguing figure, with his prelapsarian innocence corrupted by intercourse with a priestess. Enkidu seems to act as a voice of morality and reason throughout the poem, providing guidance to Gilgamesh in moments of need.
Perhaps we should also consider the portrayal of the divine, who are seen as capricious and often selfish figures. Gilgamesh and Enkidu execute their whims, but are ultimately unable to achieve their divinity (outside of the divinity of fame itself). Furthermore, Enkiduâs only real reward seems to be death. Humbabaâs own worship of the Gods also falls to save him from slaughter. In my opinion, the central conflict in Gilgamesh is one of men against the divine and their helplessness in the face of it â Gilgameshâs own fame is not won, but bestowed by the divine.