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Margaret AtwoodA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
This chapter recounts the circumstances of Penelope’s marriage. It was arranged, via the old custom, through a physical contest. The men who won were expected to stay at the bride’s palace, gain her wealth, and give her male heirs. Penelope, only fifteen, stays in her room while the contest commences. She knows that she is not the prize, her fortune is: “I was not a maneater, I was not a Siren, I was not like cousin Helen who loved to make conquests just to show she could” (29). Though not pretty, she is kind and clever, though “cleverness is a quality a man likes to have in his wife as long as she is some distance away from him” (29). Penelope receives gossip from the maids, who say Odysseus is not a serious candidate. It is a race, after all, and he has short legs and is considered backward. He is, however, like Penelope, known for his cleverness.
Helen appears and immediately takes digs at Penelope’s expense—noting her and Odysseus’ shared flaw (short legs) and reminding Penelope that Odysseus competed to win her as well, thereby reminding her that she was “at best only second prize” (35).
Odysseus wins, but by cheating. Helen’s father (Penelope’s uncle) helped him win, drugging the competitors’ wine to slow them, and giving Odysseus a drug to quicken him. Penelope describes two theories for why her Uncle Tyndareus helped Odysseus: one is thought to be because he helped calm things down during Helen’s wedding competition, ensuring peace, while the other is that he was greedy for the throne, and noticed that Odysseus planned to bring his bride back to far-away Ithaca, thereby removing a large barrier to his rule.
Here, Penelope tells the story of her wedding and wedding night. Everyone feasts and gets drunk, except Odysseus, who says that “if a man lives by his wits, as he did, he needs to have those wits always at hand and kept sharp, like axes or swords” (41). Penelope is very afraid of the wedding night, having been told tales of woe by the maids. Before she goes to the bridal suite, her mother gives her some oblique advice, saying: “Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can’t go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does” (43).
As Penelope is led to the bridal suite, Odysseus told her not to be afraid, that he would not hurt her, though she should let out some screams for show. Penelope says that “this was one of his great services as a persuader—he could convince another person that the two of them together faced a common obstacle” (45).
Odysseus told the story of the scar on his thigh—that when he went to claim the gifts promised at birth from his famously crafty grandfather, Autolycus, he went boar hunting with his uncles and was gored in the thigh. Penelope thought the story odd, and that perhaps his family, too, had conspired to eradicate him for their own gain. By the end of the night, says Penelope: “I myself had developed friendly feelings...loving and passionate ones—and he behaved as if he reciprocated them” (48).
When Odysseus announces that he will take Penelope back to Ithaca, the tale is that her father ran after the chariot and begged Penelope to stay, and that Odysseus asked what she wanted. She responds by pulling down her veil, “being too modest to proclaim in words [her] desire for [her] husband” (49). However, she says, in reality, she pulled her veil to conceal her laughter at the same father that threw her into the sea chasing after her. “I didn’t feel like staying,” she explains, “I longed to begin a new life” (49).
Here, the maids express their desires in song. Three maids in turn, interspersed with a chorus, express their desire to marry a young hero instead of working hard on behalf of others. The repeating chorus, however, tells them to take to the sea, for “the water below is as dark as the grave/And maybe you’ll sink in your little blue boat/It’s hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat” (52).
In this chapter, Penelope describes arriving and settling into Ithaca. At first, she is alone save for an older maid that accompanied her from Sparta, though she thinks very highly of Odysseus, who continued to be “attentive and considerate” (57). Her mother-in-law, Anticleia, clearly does not approve of her and makes no special effort to welcome her and show her the customs of the palace. However, Odysseus’s former nurse, Eurycleia, takes her under her wing, though she also undermines her by doing all of the normal wifely duties, because she knows how Odysseus likes things done.
She does prove useful when their son Telemachus was born—aiding in the birth and raising of their son. Odysseus is pleased, noting that Helen had not yet borne a son, but, Penelope notes, “why was he still—and possibly always—thinking about Helen” (64).
Once again, the voice of the maidens appears in poetic form. They describe how they were born and raised beside Telemachus, though not celebrated and desired like him, but cast off, discarded. “Helpless as he was helpless/but ten times more helpless as well,” (66) they lament. They emphasize how valueless their lives were, saying: “We were animal young, to be disposed of at will” (67) and “We were his pets and his toythings” (67). They conclude by asking if they had known their fate by his hands, if they would have murdered him as children, when they were all young and innocent—drowned him and blamed it on the sea. But they say they cannot know, only the three fates can: “Only they know our hearts” (69).
Contemporary Penelope, wise and dead, begins her chapter on marriage describing the utility of marriage in those days. She emphasizes the maids’ point that marriage was only for the upper crust: “All the rest was just copulation of various kinds” (23). Dead Penelope is able to give some cynical perspective on the ordeal—that marriages are for having children, to carry dynasties and fortunes into the future. In underlining the utilitarian and dynastic aspects of marriage, Penelope strips it of any romance, while also engendering sympathy for the unmarriageable maids.
As an aside, Penelope still wonders about her father’s attempt at murdering her. This now-confident-seeming spirit still showcases a deal of insecurity and naiveté in searching for rationales for her father’s act. Here, in attributing it to a divine demand, she’s again taking the blame out of his hands, forgiving him for an inexcusable act. It’s a testament to how betrayed she felt by Odysseus that he is not given the same benefit of the doubt in her asides.
In chapter 6, Penelope describes just how young and naïve she was—unable to understand coarse jokes and highly susceptible to Helen’s digs. It also shows how alone she already felt—ignored on her own wedding day by men competing against each other, instead of for her, and gawking at Helen. So, too, begins the habit of getting information from her maids, whose freedom from scrutiny allows them more freedom to study the competitors. The first she hears of Odysseus is that he “was too clever for his own good” (31), which sets the tone for his entire characterization in the book.
This chapter also furthers the storyline of contemptible, arrogant Helen, who remains in competition for Odysseus’ affections (at least in Penelope’s mind). Helen’s reference to Odysseus’ attempt to win her hand in her own marriage competition reinforces that Penelope is “at best only second prize” (35).
At every turn, when an action of Odysseus’ might seem moral or chivalrous, Penelope does not fail to color it with her cynical hindsight. He doesn’t drink in order to prevent his wits from getting dulled, and his kindness toward her in the bedchamber is characterized as one of his persuasive tricks. While she, in her youthful innocence, develops feelings for him, she says, “he behaved as if he reciprocated them” (48). She is careful to avoid painting any of his kind actions as romantic or chivalrous, but always notes how his actions were carefully calculated and self-serving.
This section’s chorus once again uses a lighthearted frame to address dark topics. In the form of a “popular tune,” which the maids perform and then bow (even passing a hat like buskers), the verses express a cliché wish to be whisked away and married to a young hero. However, the repetitive chorus is much darker, telling them to sail on water “as dark as the grave,” (52) where their little boat might sink, concluding that it’s “hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat” (52). While the power of hope might seem at first glance a sweet sentiment, the chorus is really saying that the maids should take a risk, which might well end up being deadly. Any attempt to escape the life of drudgery and dirt into which they’ve been born will more than likely end up in death.
As Penelope begins to settle into Ithaca, she continues to admire Odysseus, though, again, she cuts any sentiment with the observation that “his manner was that of an older person to a child” (57) and that he studied her like a puzzle. Her mother-in-law and father do little to welcome her, and Odysseus’s nurse Eurycleia leaves her little duties with which to busy herself, but she does help her adjust much more than her in-laws. So, Penelope continues to feel isolated, and rely on maids for company and aid.
Still, Penelope finds herself compared to Helen. At the birth of Telemachus, Odysseus notes that ‘Helen hasn’t borne a son yet,’ (64) which, though it should make her feel better, only reminds her that he continues to think of Helen (“why was he still—and possibly always—thinking about Helen” [64]).
This chorus’ content is perhaps the most plainly dark of them all, and yet the form is noted as an idyll. An idyll is typically a short description of a picturesque incident in pastoral life, but the content of this poem is a dark analysis of how the maids were treated compared to Telemachus, their contemporary. Again, they emphasize the worthlessness of their bodies, how they were “animal young, to be disposed of at will” (67). And, much like Penelope’s descriptions and experiences, this chorus nurtures empathy for the maids, by describing them as growing up beside Telemachus, “helpless as he was helpless, but ten times more helpless as well” (66).
By Margaret Atwood