I was nine when I first read the Odyssey. A very clean version, obviously, very illustrated and much shorter. But even then Odysseus and I embarked together on the ship to Ithaca, and we met mermaids and sorceresses, and cyclops and kings, in an adventure that made me fly with the immagination.
«Ahimè, sempre gli uomini accusano gli dei: dicono che da noi provengono le sventure, mentre è per i loro errori che patiscono e soffrono oltre misura.»
How much truth, dear Zeus, how many times do we blame the deities for the misfortunes. But I must say that with Ulysses you cannot deny that you are really ruthless! His indisputable thirst for knowledge, his cunning and courage, combined with his love for his homeland, have always made me cheer for our Homeric hero. The propensity to betray, the know-it-all attitude, on the other hand, led me to hope that I would strike him once and for all.
But at the time of the Odyssey it was still not customary to let the main character die and therefore island after island, vicissitude after vicissitude, our traveling hero faces what seems to the students an interminable journey[1]and which for me was…
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