Some Thoughts on and Questions about Omeros

               Derek Walcott’s epic poem Omeros is massive in its scope, dealing specifically with the island of St. Lucia and its history and people, more generally with the themes of colonialism and history (and History), and traversing the Caribbean, North America, Europe, and Africa. While not quite as central, Walcott also layers his lines with themes including: language, love, naming, religion, race, home, writing, and the tradition of the arts--both written and visual. Perhaps the greatest difficulty reading Walcott’s Omeros lies in this density of language and historical and artistic allusions. Still, one may trace firstly the story of Achille, Hector, and Helen and the story of the Plunketts on the Caribbean island of St. Lucia. Just as prevalent, however, is the story Walcott interjects about himself and his family.

                I have a feeling that every time one reads Omeros, more is discovered. I was never left disappointed in finding new layers and allusions in the texts. And I’m sure many were missed.

                One issue that complicated my comprehension of the text was the surprise of Walcott’s own autobiographical insertions. It took me a while to realize when and if Walcott himself was speaking. In addition, while literary, artistic, or historic allusions may be clarified via Wikipedia, many of Walcott’s autobiographical details cannot be easily found out. With the ambiguity about who is speaking, the challenge to decipher what is autobiographical becomes a significant difficulty. But perhaps it does not matter exactly what is autobiographically proven--what is in fact in Walcott’s own history. With or without an understanding that some of the information in the story is autobiographical, Walcott powerfully tells the story of oppression and systemic injustice in St. Lucia and other colonies around the world.

                Another difficulty in reading Omeros is the prevalence of recurring images that may or may not serve as symbols. For example, while swords, anchors, and swifts all prompt the shape of the cross, this may not consistently be a desired overtone. Other recurring images--birds and leaves--conjure up many different associations. And perhaps all of them are intended in some dosage.

                Part of the challenge of reading Omeros lies in the fact that allusions and symbols are missed and misunderstood. Still, what is caught, what is grasped, is worth the tedious task of close reading.