> The Epic of Gilgamesh, in its tablet form, is both fragmentary and rather wooden in translation. It is very difficult to derive meaning from it when read in isolation: you practically have to be an Ancient Near Eastern scholar to fully grasp the context in which it was written and appreciate it.
I think this basic point is true of all literature. Here's an example of some quite effective non-wooden prose from a nineteenth-century translation of the Iliad:
> the seer spoke boldly. "The god," he said, "is angry neither about vow nor hecatomb [a sacrifice], but for his priest's sake, whom Agamemnon has dishonoured, in that he would not free his daughter nor take a ransom for her; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamemnon has restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father, and has sent a holy hecatomb to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him."
> With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he scowled on Calchas and said, "Seer of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now you come seeing among Danaans, and saying that Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a ransom for this girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her in my own house, for I love her better even than my own wife Clytemnestra, whose peer she is alike in form and feature, in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will give her up if I must, for I would have the people live, not die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone among the Argives shall be without one. This is not well; for you behold, all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhere."
The context within the Iliad itself is basically just this. Calchas divines that the Greeks are faring poorly in battle because Agamemnon has offended the gods by refusing to ransom the daughter of a priest. To make up for this error, Apollo requires Agamemnon to return the girl to her father without asking for a ransom at all.
The text also mentions that Calchas fears for his life when he delivers this message, and he makes Achilles swear to protect him before he's willing to interpret the will of the gods. As we see here, Agamemnon does indeed go wild with rage when he hears what Calchas says. Because of Achilles' oath to protect Calchas, he settles on picking a non-physical fight with Achilles instead, which is what leads Achilles to storm off in a huff and precipitates the rest of the events in the story.
From the text, this is a pretty staggering overreaction on Agamemnon's part. He was wrong, everyone knows it, and he's not losing all that much. But there's more context present in the mythological background that everyone in the intended audience would have been familiar with.
The army of the Greeks didn't have many seers. Calchas was responsible for divining the will of the gods across the entire expedition. And in particular, there had been a difficulty right at the outset, when unfavorable winds prevented the Greek ships from setting out to sea. This obviously divine phenomenon had to be dealt with, Calchas was called upon, and he provided the answer: the winds were sent by Artemis because Agamemnon had once offended her. Until he appeases Artemis, the army cannot set sail, and Artemis demands the sacrifice of the most valuable thing Agamemnon received in the year he committed the offense. Since Agamemnon is suffering under a curse, this turns out to be his now-adult daughter, Iphigenia.
That context makes it crystal clear why Agamemnon might be expected to simply jump up and murder Calchas after he produces a second prophecy saying that Agamemnon needs to make up for offending the gods. He's still sore over... being forced to sacrifice his own daughter! How could he not be?
And I think that background adds quite a bit to the scene. But we can't expect every text to include all the relevant cultural background. There's too much.
For folks interested in a modern reinterpretation of the Iliad, the "War Nerd Iliad" by John Dolan (aka the War Nerd from the Exile) takes an interesting approach - see review in https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/essays/war-nerd-iliad/.
That passage rendered there looks like (roughly):
> Kalkys, reassured, takes a nervous gulp and blurts: “The real reason that Apollo’s shooting us down is that Agamemnon insulted his priest! The old man came to ask for his daughter Chryseis back. He asked nice and politely, in the name of the god, which he’s entitled to do as a priest! Brought the proper ransom, and a wreath!”
> All the men grunt and nod. They knew it!
> Kalkys feels their approval and goes on, more loudly and accusingly: “But Agamemnon purposely insulted him! Threatened him! Laughed at the poor old man! Wouldn’t give his daughter back even though he asked politely!”
> Everyone nods and tells each other, “I told you that was it! That damn Agamemnon! Gonna get us all killed!”
> Kalkys concludes, “So we have to give her back! To her father, the priest! Or Apollo will kill all of us! And not ask any ransom for her or anything!” More nodding and grunting from the crowd. They knew it’d come to this.
> Kalkys pushes his luck now, brave like nerds are when the crowd’s egging them on: “And we have to send a sacrifice with her! Treasure, and gold, and calves and sheep, ones with no spots or scars! Perfect specimens, the kind Apollo likes!”
> More grunts and nods. Kalkys is drunk on public approval now, delighted with his own courage—and then he turns and sees Agamemnon and sits down very suddenly.
> Agamemnon stands up, with the hate pouring from him like heat from a rock on a hearth. The crowd goes quiet. It’s odd, how they fear Agamemnon. He isn’t all that tough in battle. And he’s nowhere near as big as Akilles, or as strong as Ajax, or clever like Odysseus. Doesn’t even fight in the front rank most of the time. But he is hands down the meanest man in the army, maybe the world. He never forgives, never forgets the tiniest slight to himself or his precious relatives.
> Him and his relatives! That’s what this whole army is doing here, avenging Agamemnon’s useless brother Menelaos, who married a woman way too beautiful for him—half goddess, in fact—and got dumped for a younger, hotter man. Who happened to be a Trojan prince.
> That’s why they’ve all been camping out here for nine slow, deadly years: Defending the nonexistent honor of Agamemnon’s blank of a brother, the fool Menelaos, Menelaos the cuckold.
> And now Kalkys has blurted out the one thing they’re all thinking: It’s Agamemnon’s fault we’re here! It’s his fault we’re dying under the magic virus arrows! And we didn’t even get any booty out of it!
> Agamemnon stands, sneering, letting the crowd vent a while, then drags out the silence so they can feel his hate. That’s where Agamemnon really shines—the best hater in a world where hate is much respected.
> When he’s made them all flinch away from his stare, he turns to poor old Kalkys: “You, Mister Science! You just love giving bad news, don’t you? You little coward, egghead. Did those entrails you claim to interpret ever once, even once, tell you anything good about me? Did those dead goat guts of yours ever tell, even one time, that I, your king, had made a good decision? No! No, because you only want to tell me what I’ve done wrong! Because you’re a cowardly little whiner!!”
There is a passage like that in the Iliad, but it isn't this one. This is a pretty liberal reinterpretation.
But, if you're interested:
> The rest now took their seats and kept to their own several places, but Thersites still went on wagging his unbridled tongue—a man of many words, and those unseemly; a monger of sedition, a railer against all who were in authority, who cared not what he said, so that he might set the Achaeans in a laugh. He was the ugliest man of all those that came before Troy—bandy-legged, lame of one foot, with his two shoulders rounded and hunched over his chest. His head ran up to a point, but there was little hair on the top of it. Achilles and Odysseus hated him worst of all, for it was with them that he was most wont to wrangle; now, however, with a shrill squeaky voice he began heaping his abuse on Agamemnon. The Achaeans were angry and disgusted, yet none the less he kept on bawling at the son of Atreus.
I kind of like seeing the morality of the day shine right through the text. No shades of grey here.
I think this basic point is true of all literature. Here's an example of some quite effective non-wooden prose from a nineteenth-century translation of the Iliad:
> the seer spoke boldly. "The god," he said, "is angry neither about vow nor hecatomb [a sacrifice], but for his priest's sake, whom Agamemnon has dishonoured, in that he would not free his daughter nor take a ransom for her; therefore has he sent these evils upon us, and will yet send others. He will not deliver the Danaans from this pestilence till Agamemnon has restored the girl without fee or ransom to her father, and has sent a holy hecatomb to Chryse. Thus we may perhaps appease him."
> With these words he sat down, and Agamemnon rose in anger. His heart was black with rage, and his eyes flashed fire as he scowled on Calchas and said, "Seer of evil, you never yet prophesied smooth things concerning me, but have ever loved to foretell that which was evil. You have brought me neither comfort nor performance; and now you come seeing among Danaans, and saying that Apollo has plagued us because I would not take a ransom for this girl, the daughter of Chryses. I have set my heart on keeping her in my own house, for I love her better even than my own wife Clytemnestra, whose peer she is alike in form and feature, in understanding and accomplishments. Still I will give her up if I must, for I would have the people live, not die; but you must find me a prize instead, or I alone among the Argives shall be without one. This is not well; for you behold, all of you, that my prize is to go elsewhere."
The context within the Iliad itself is basically just this. Calchas divines that the Greeks are faring poorly in battle because Agamemnon has offended the gods by refusing to ransom the daughter of a priest. To make up for this error, Apollo requires Agamemnon to return the girl to her father without asking for a ransom at all.
The text also mentions that Calchas fears for his life when he delivers this message, and he makes Achilles swear to protect him before he's willing to interpret the will of the gods. As we see here, Agamemnon does indeed go wild with rage when he hears what Calchas says. Because of Achilles' oath to protect Calchas, he settles on picking a non-physical fight with Achilles instead, which is what leads Achilles to storm off in a huff and precipitates the rest of the events in the story.
From the text, this is a pretty staggering overreaction on Agamemnon's part. He was wrong, everyone knows it, and he's not losing all that much. But there's more context present in the mythological background that everyone in the intended audience would have been familiar with.
The army of the Greeks didn't have many seers. Calchas was responsible for divining the will of the gods across the entire expedition. And in particular, there had been a difficulty right at the outset, when unfavorable winds prevented the Greek ships from setting out to sea. This obviously divine phenomenon had to be dealt with, Calchas was called upon, and he provided the answer: the winds were sent by Artemis because Agamemnon had once offended her. Until he appeases Artemis, the army cannot set sail, and Artemis demands the sacrifice of the most valuable thing Agamemnon received in the year he committed the offense. Since Agamemnon is suffering under a curse, this turns out to be his now-adult daughter, Iphigenia.
That context makes it crystal clear why Agamemnon might be expected to simply jump up and murder Calchas after he produces a second prophecy saying that Agamemnon needs to make up for offending the gods. He's still sore over... being forced to sacrifice his own daughter! How could he not be?
And I think that background adds quite a bit to the scene. But we can't expect every text to include all the relevant cultural background. There's too much.