Joy Marie Sever

I first read Homer in the Fall of 2001. Though I still can’t quite explain what happened, memories of sensing something powerful, something unlike anything I had ever felt before, remain vivid to me to this day.

My first days of reading Homer took place at The New School in Manhattan.  My adult classroom years prior to that were at the University of Manitoba, and later at the University of Toronto (where I completed a doctoral degree in social psychology in 1993). I studied Homer in the evening because, in 2001, I was working full-time as a researcher and consultant in the field of corporate reputation.

I remember the class in which historian Diana Gilliland Wright spoke of fame, glory, and reputation (the Greeks call that kleos) and the stories of the epic heroes Odysseus, Achilles, Agamemnon, and Ajax.  The meaning within those stories floated from the ancient past into a presentation I was preparing for senior business executives about corporate reputation. Homer’s epics had suddenly become relevant to my work; they gave my work a whole new meaning.  But I didn’t just want to apply Homer’s epics to my work, I wanted Homer’s epics to be my work.  I wanted more than anything to tell the stories found in Homer’s epics and the Greek myths. 

I co-founded TellmeOmuse in 2005 with artist and muralist Matthew Willey.  Our mission: To create epic experiences inspired by the Greek classics.  I turned my apartment into a home office, brought in more bookshelves and filled those shelves with ancient Greek epics and myths.  I started sitting in on middle and high school classes listening to teachers telling Odysseus’ story and the stories from Greek mythology.  And I organized a variety of Odyssey reading groups with people young and old. 

It was through these group experiences that I discovered what has now become the momentum behind the work I do at TellmeOmuse.  I watched young people eagerly read and talk about the depth of the material in the ancient stories, and I saw how expansive their ability to comprehend that material could be.  To them, the Odyssey wasn’t a difficult story, it was a really good story—one they wanted to read, talk about, and understand.

I’ve also watched adults who thought they’d never have time to read the Odyssey—or didn’t think they would understand it—actually read it, enjoy it, and get something very meaningful out of the experience. I watched initial frustrations with names and pronunciations fade, and the story take over. Some listened while others asked the questions they themselves wanted to ask, but didn’t—until eventually, even the initially timid joined the discussion. I’ve watched people become familiar with Homer and then transform what was once an intimidating “big block of text” (as one person put it) into “the best book I’ve ever read.” By far, it is these shared moments of epic discovery that have given me the greatest pleasure over the past five years:  Eyes sparkle, a more knowing smile appears, and life is never quite the same. 

Or is it. 

September 2010 marked the beginning of my tenth year reading Homer. And as much as Homer can change lives, it’s also true that reading Homer reveals what hasn’t changed.  Three thousand years later, Homer is as relevant as ever as a text on the complexities of the human condition.  Homer has certainly enriched my life on a personal level while at the same time it has become the center of my professional life. It truly feels as though I cannot not do this work. 

And I’m very happy about that.