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Which Translation of Homer’s Odyssey should you read?

  • May 21
  • 6 min read

Choosing a translation of Homer’s Odyssey is not like choosing between editions of the same novel. Every translator reshapes the poem in subtle but significant ways: its rhythm, tone, morality, and even the character of Odysseus himself.


So which translation is "best"? That depends on what you want from Homer. Here, I cover five major translations with different readers in mind.


The five translations at a glance

Before diving into details, it helps to understand that these translations are trying to accomplish very different things. Some prioritize readability. Others aim for poetic beauty, fidelity to the Greek, or a sense of Homer's original oral rhythm. None are "neutral," and each creates a unique experience.


Emily Wilson (2018)

Often considered the best translation for beginners, Wilson's translation is the first published English Odyssey by a woman. Her version prioritizes clarity, momentum, and direct, honest language, often stripping away the elevated or romanticized diction found in earlier works.


Daniel Mendelsohn (2025)

The newest major translation, Mendelsohn's version uses a rolling six-beat line inspired by Homeric dactylic hexameter. A classicist, critic, and essayist, he explicitly argues for preserving the musical and oral qualities of Homeric poetry while maintaining a more elevated literary tone.


Robert Fitzgerald (1961)

For decades, Fitzgerald's translation was widely regarded as the literary standard: elegant, lyrical, and deeply attentive to the poem's beauty. His Odyssey feels reflective and musical rather than fast-paced.


Robert Fagles (1996)

Still one of the most commonly assigned translations, Fagles leans toward contemporary free verse and emphasizes narrative energy, drama, and accessibility. For many readers, this is the most cinematic Odyssey.


Richmond Lattimore (1965)

Long favored in academic circles, Lattimore's translation attempts to remain structurally close to the Greek, including its repetitions and formulaic qualities. His six-beat line echoes Homeric rhythm more directly than most modern literary translations.


Quick Guide

Translator

Best for

Style

Strength

Possible Drawback

Emily Wilson

First-time readers

Clear, modern

Readability

Less grandeur

Daniel Mendelsohn

Literary readers

Elevated/six-beat

Oral texture

More literary distance

Robert Fitzgerald

Poetic readers

Lyrical

Beauty

Slower pace

Robert Fagles

Narrative momentum

Dramatic/free verse

Cinematic energy

Less structurally faithful

Richmond Lattimore

Study/Greek fidelity

Formal

Stylistically closest to Greek

Dense, slow


How each translator handles Homer’s music

Homer composed in dactylic hexameter, a long, rolling meter meant to be heard aloud. But ancient Greek and English work very differently, so there's no perfect way to recreate that rhythm. Every translator has to decide what matters most: accuracy, musicality, readability, or momentum.


Lattimore and Mendelsohn both try to preserve the feel of Homer's long epic lines, staying closer to the structure and repetitions of the Greek. This creates a stronger sense of scale and oral storytelling. Lattimore is admired for his fidelity, though some readers find him dense or formal. Mendelsohn aims for a similar epic sweep, but with a more modern musicality.


Wilson takes a very different approach. Iambic pentameter feels natural in English and keeps the story moving quickly. Her version is lean, clear, and fast-paced. Fagles largely abandons strict meter altogether in favor of energy and readability. Fitzgerald lands somewhere between them: poetic and lyrical without rigidly following Homer's meter.


What gets lost (and kept) in translation

One of the easiest ways to see the difference between translations is to pay attention to repeated words and epithets, especially in places where modern readers may feel uncomfortable.


Take the Greek word dmōē (δμωή), which refers to an enslaved woman. Older translations often soften this reality. Lattimore frequently uses "handmaid" or "thrall," while Fitzgerald tends toward "serving women." The effect is subtle but important: it pushes the brutal reality of slavery out of view.


Wilson deliberately refuses to do this. When Homer means "slave," she writes "slave." Mendelsohn similarly preserves the harsher social realities of the poem rather than smoothing them over.


You can see the same dynamic with Odysseus himself. The poem famously opens by calling him polytropos (πολύτροπος), a notoriously slippery word that can mean "many-turning," "resourceful," "cunning," or even "shifty," depending on the context. Each translator reveals a different Odysseus through that single choice:

 

Wilson: "a complicated man"

Fitzgerald: "that man skilled in all ways of contending"

Fagles: "the man of twists and turns"

Lattimore: "the man of many ways"

Mendelsohn: "a man…who had so many roundabout ways"


None captures the full range of the Greek, but each reveals a slightly different Odysseus.


Even Homer's stock epithets — "wine-dark sea," "rosy-fingered dawn" — reveal these priorities. Some translators preserve them almost mechanically to maintain Homer's oral texture. Others vary or modernize them so the English sounds less repetitive. Homer was repetitive on purpose; his epithets were part of the music of oral storytelling. The more faithfully a translator repeats them, the stranger and more Homeric the poem becomes. The more they're smoothed away, the more modern the Odyssey feels.


How formal should an Odyssey translation sound?


Many readers assume Homer sounds extremely formal in Greek. But to ancient audiences, his language sat closer to a middle register: poetic, yes, but also direct, vivid, and surprisingly conversational. Characters argue, complain, insult each other, tell jokes, and speak bluntly. The Odyssey is not written in the permanently lofty language many older English translations suggest.


Wilson leans into this more than any other translator here. Her English is clean, modern, and readable. She avoids unnecessary archaisms. For some readers, this makes the Odyssey feel startlingly alive. For others, it risks losing some expected grandeur.


Mendelsohn moves in almost the opposite direction, embracing a more elevated, literary tone that can feel richer and more ceremonial, though occasionally less immediate.


Fagles splits the difference in a distinctly modern way. His language is energetic, dramatic, and highly readable, but also more colloquial than earlier translations. Characters sound emotionally intense and vividly human, which helps explain why his version dominates classrooms and first-time readers.


Fitzgerald has a quieter, more haunting tone. Many readers find it beautiful; others may find it emotionally cool or slow-moving. Lattimore, by contrast, prioritizes fidelity over atmosphere. His language stays close to the Greek structure, which makes the translation valuable for study but sometimes stiff as modern English prose.


So which translation should you read?

There is no single "best" Odyssey. The right translation depends on what kind of reading experience you want.


If this is your first time reading Homer and you want to get swept into the story, Fagles and Wilson are the easiest entry points. Both move quickly and make the narrative feel alive. Fagles is more dramatic and cinematic; Wilson is cleaner, leaner, and more direct.


If you primarily care about the Odyssey as poetry, Fitzgerald and Mendelsohn are likely more rewarding. Fitzgerald's version is lyrical and haunting; Mendelsohn aims for a fuller sense of Homer's musical, oral style.

If you are studying Homer seriously, or want a translation that stays very close to the Greek in structure, Lattimore remains valuable. It preserves Homer's repetition and rhythm, even when the English becomes less fluid as a result.


If you want the current critical conversation — the translations classicists and literary circles are discussing most heavily right now — the center of gravity has shifted toward Wilson and Mendelsohn.

Still undecided? Read the opening lines of all five side by side. Within a few paragraphs, you can usually feel each translator's priorities: whether they value speed or grandeur, poetry or precision, modern clarity or epic distance. In many ways, the opening invocation already contains the entire philosophy of the translation that follows.


Wrapping up

Every translator is balancing competing priorities: poetry and precision, readability and fidelity, modern clarity and ancient texture. There is no definitive best, only the version that best matches what you want from the poem right now. I read Lattimore in college, alongside the original Greek. Today, I prefer Mendelsohn's combination of readability and musicality. Your answer will probably shift over a lifetime of reading, and that's exactly as it should be.


Where to find these translations

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