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"Early on the Sunday morning of May 22, 1949, after copying out half of Sophocles' desolate poem 'The Chorus from Ajax' as a valediction ("'Woe, woe!' will be the cry . . ."), James Forrestal tied one end of his bathrobe sash to the radiator of the diet kitchen across the hall from his sixteenth-floor room, tied the other end around his neck, removed the screen from the window above the radiator and jumped." This passage from Richard Rhodes' Dark Sun says less about Forrestal (U. S. Secretary of the Navy during the Second World War) than it does about Sophocles. It prompted me to read Sophocles' Ajax. I found Forrestal's valediction both powerful and terrifying: ". . . By painful stages came to his right mind. And when he saw his dwelling full of Ruin, He beat his head and bellowed. There he sat, Wreckage himself among the wreck of corpses, The sheep slaughtered; and in an anguished gripe Of fist and fingernail he clutched his hair. . ." This in turn prompted me to reread the three Oedipus plays. I remembered reading them in college. I thought that I knew the story, but to my surprise I had missed some of the best parts. Either I'm getting wiser or I'm reading a better translation. I don't recall feeling the excitement or seeing the incredible beauty of construction when I read these plays for the first time. Sophocles is much, much better than I remembered him. Unlike Forrestal, I think that there is nothing better than a good Greek tragedy to cheer you up. David Green's superb translations reveal the Master's touch in readable, comprehensible, modern English.
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