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What makes a journey an ‘odyssey’ anyway?

(CNN) — “The Odyssey” is an ancient Greek epic poem that tells the story of Odysseus, the king of Ithaca who spent 10 years fighting the Trojan War only to spend another 10 years trying to return home.

That it takes him a decade to travel the roughly 560 nautical miles from Troy to Ithaca is not because of primitive seafaring technology (voyage records in ancient literature indicate that such a trip would have taken about a week, possibly up to two weeks under unfavorable winds). Throughout Homer’s tale, Odysseus is repeatedly thwarted by divine wrath, nature and human fallibility.

For those rusty on the classics, a brief refresher: On the journey to Ithaca, Odysseus’ crew eats fruit that makes them forget their goal of returning home. They get trapped in a cave with a one-eyed, man-eating Cyclops. When they come tantalizingly close to home, they are blown off course again. They encounter more man-eating monsters. Odysseus’ men get turned into pigs. Odysseus travels to the underworld and has to perform a blood sacrifice. Then there are the Sirens and the sea monsters Scylla and Charybdis. All of Odysseus’ men are killed by the end, and as if he hasn’t suffered enough, he’s kept for years by Calypso as a sex slave.

Yet, the word “odyssey” as it’s used today doesn’t quite capture the grueling, miserable slog that Odysseus and his compatriots endured. The term instead invokes a journey marked by swashbuckling adventure, romantic wanderlust and wide-eyed curiosity. Take some examples from modern-day culture, such as NASA’s Mars Odyssey and the school-age creative problem-solving competition, Odyssey of the Mind. The Honda Odyssey, which debuted in the ‘90s, was marketed as “the minivan for people who deep down inside aren’t minivan people.” Silicon Valley executive John Sculley used “Odyssey” in the title of his 1987 memoir, which detailed his trajectory as CEO of PepsiCo to CEO of Apple.

While Odysseus’s eponymous journey is famously full of twists and turns, the evolution of “odyssey” in English is decidedly straightforward, says John Kelly, a former dictionary editor and author of the etymology blog Mashed Radish. “Odyssey,” from the Latin “Odyssea,” derives from the poem’s ancient Greek title “Odusseia,” which translates to “the story of Odusseus.”

When it comes to the name “Odysseus” itself, Kelly notes that while the true origin of the name is unclear, the poem itself offers a folk etymology: “hated by gods and men.” In “The Odyssey,” Odysseus recounts that his grandfather so named him because he was destined to suffer and make others suffer, too.

As “The Odyssey” became ingrained in the Western literary canon, the word passed into English as direct references to Homer’s epic poem. The Oxford English Dictionary notes that it first appeared in the 11th century monk Byrhtferth’s spiritual manual “Enchiridion,” rendered in Old English as “Odissia.” Its next recorded use came in the 16th century, when the English poet Edmund Spenser wrote in a letter to Sir Walter Raleigh that his own epic “The Faerie Queen” took inspiration from “The Odyssey.”

It wasn’t until the late 19th century that “odyssey” came to denote a long, wandering adventure in the general sense, says Kelly. Scottish adventure novelist Robert Louis Stevenson invoked the word in his 1886 book “Kidnapped.” When the main character David details his treacherous journey across the Scottish Highlands to a lawyer, the man replies, “this is a great epic, a great Odyssey of yours.” Within a few years, “odyssey” had evolved from a proper noun into a lowercase word that applied to literal and figurative journeys alike.

Whether it’s describing an exciting adventure or a series of painful trials, the various uses of “odyssey” share a long, wandering quality, says David Elmer, a professor of Greek literature at Harvard University. “The semantic core says less about the subjective experience of the traveler and more about the characteristics of the journey,” he says. To Alexander Forte, an assistant professor of classics at New York University, an enduring quality of an “odyssey” is a journey worth telling someone about: It might be characterized by unexpected happenings or lengthy detours, but the undertaker lived to tell the tale.

How did Homer and other ancient poets view the travels of Odysseus? Forte points to the ancient Greek word “nostos,” which means “homecoming” and was used to refer to epic poems about a hero’s return. “It has a lot of the complex associations that the English word ‘return’ has,” he says. “It can be a happy return, but you can also have a really arduous or sad return.”

A tale as expansive as “The Odyssey” is bound to inspire a range of readings. And while this author might be hung up on the obstacles Odysseus encounters, his travels are not without pleasure and thrill. The dominant narrative in “The Odyssey” is about Odysseus’ desire to go home, but there are hints that he’s enjoying the ride, notes Sheila Murnaghan, a professor of Greek at the University of Pennsylvania. When Odysseus and his men discover a cave on the island of the Cyclopes filled with livestock and cheese, his crew wants to take the provisions and run. Odysseus’ curiosity, meanwhile, compels him to stay and learn of the cave’s inhabitant. And after Odysseus spends a year luxuriating on Circe’s island, it’s his men who urge him to head home.

“People who’ve read Homer’s ‘Odyssey’ have repeatedly felt that Odysseus just desperately wanting to get home is not the whole story, and that there’s also in Odysseus someone who has a thirst for adventure and travel,” she adds, while pointing to Dante’s “Inferno” and Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s poem, “Ulysses,” which depict Odysseus (or Ulysses as he’s known in Latin) as a restless figure who craves adventure.

How people today understand the word “odyssey” might have to do with how modern audiences experience the source material. When most students first encounter “The Odyssey” in class, or when viewers watch a cinematic adaptation such as Christopher Nolan’s, Kelly says they’re likely enamored by the fantastical adventures and mythical creatures on the page or on screen. “I have to wonder if we approach the story of ‘The Odyssey’ very differently than maybe the ancients did,” he says. “Perhaps the ancient Greek listener of the poem, or the ancient Roman reader of the epic, would be focusing on Odysseus’ character more: What can I learn about virtue? What can I learn about what it means to be a man? What can I learn about what it means to be a warrior, a hero, a husband, a father?”

“Yes, plenty of us do derive lessons of what happens when we’re too cunning or too hubristic,” Kelly adds. “But I think a lot of us just want to see the Cyclops already.”

The-CNN-Wire
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Looking a school shooter in the eyes: How teenage victims confronted Colt Gray in court

Winder, Georgia (CNN) — Dark clouds hung over the Barrow County Judicial Courthouse, both outside and inside, as more than 100 people sloshed through a soggy parking lot to hear Colt Gray take responsibility for the lives he had taken, along with the ones that he forever changed.Victims of the 2024 shooting at Georgia’s Apalachee High School and their family members were there last week to make sure Gray’s voice wasn’t the only one heard.The teenager’s decision to plead guilty promised an end to a painful chapter for the community of Winder after four people – two adults and two students – were murdered and seven others injured by gunfire from the AR-style rifle purchased for Gray by his father.Loved ones of Christian Angulo and Mason Schermerhorn – the 14-year-olds killed – wore shirts with their smiling faces, anxious to make sure no one would forget what was lost on September 4, 2024. The hashtag message “#lovelikemason” was on the back of the shirt worn by Breanna Schermerhorn, Mason’s mother.Thunder from the outside could be heard in the dimly lit top-floor courtroom Friday as Gray – the long, bleached hair of his mug shot now dark and short, with a wispy mustache one of the few reminders of his previous appearance – was led into the courtroom, the chains from his leg restraints jangling.He repeatedly leaned into a microphone with a blank expression and said, “Yes, your honor,” to accept a guilty plea on 55 charges, including four counts of murder. A dozen sheriff’s deputies lined the walls of the courtroom, with a bailiff in a dark blazer monitoring from the front.On the gallery’s hard, wooden benches resembling church pews, 115 people sat quietly to hear whether there would be a tinge of regret in his voice or a troubled look on Gray’s face as he admitted to his crimes. That day, there was none.As Gray emotionlessly acknowledged his crimes, the hallway outside the courtroom showed how not just lives were taken that day, but innocence. A line of teenage girls – some who had been shot, all of whom witnessed the shooting – were prepared to share their stories and ask that Gray would never again see freedom.By Tuesday, they would get to see the impact of their words, as Judge Nicholas Primm sentenced Gray to life in prison without the possibility of parole, just two days before his father, Colin Gray – who bought the rifle for his son – is set to learn his sentence for murder and manslaughter. But on this first day of the three-day hearing, all they knew was they would be standing feet from the classmate who changed their lives, speaking directly to him for the first time.The teens, comforted by family members and court advocates – and protected by law enforcement and a leather-clad biker group called Mystic Saints formed days after the shooting to support the school – were called one at a time to tell their story, baring emotion that had been building for nearly two years.Taylor JonesWalking into court under her own power was its own victory for Taylor Jones, who was a ninth grader when Gray shot into her algebra class and shattered her femur. After the shooting, she was told she might never walk again. Surgeries along with months of therapy helped her beat the odds, but that didn’t end the trauma.The physical scars were hidden in court by her floor-length pink dress and denim vest, her skirt so long she seemed in danger of tripping over it. Her left foot nervously dug into the carpeted floor. The emotional scars could be heard in her voice.Taylor looked at the assistant district attorney guiding the victims’ testimony, getting gentle reassurance. She hoped occupying the spotlight she never asked for would make an impression on the shooter.“I hope my story makes Colt realize the horrible things that he has done and all the pain and suffering he has caused.”Natalie GriffithNatalie Griffith’s words spilled out with such rapid nervous energy, the judge had to ask her to slow down, drawing chuckles from the crowd that cut the tension that had been building all day. Leaning against the lectern and taking a breath, Natalie said her school was supposed to be her sanctuary.“I never thought something like that would happen here. Those things happen in places where the sun doesn’t shine as bright,” said Natalie, who, like Taylor and others, had been shot in their math class.Intense medical attention has helped her slowly regain much of the use of her left arm, torn open by Gray’s gun, after a year of needing other people to cut her food for her.Frustrated. Angry. Sad. Natalie described the range of her feelings over the past nearly two years. She looked directly at Gray as she said his actions were all for nothing.Natalie stepped back from the microphone but stayed in the courtroom that day and returned for the next two days, watching testimony. Twisting open the cap of her bottle of Sprite is a struggle, and she spends much of her time crocheting, a hobby that helps her build strength in her reconstructed wrist.Nautica WaltonA cell phone clutched in her right hand, her shirt cuff pulled partially over her left, Nautica Walton told the judge her dreams are simple.“About once a week, I find myself thinking about what would it feel like to be normal again.”To this day, Nautica – who was a freshman when she was shot in the leg in math class – feels uncomfortable sitting with her back to a door, she said. She wants to know she always has an escape route, just in case. Now, she is afraid of the dark. Afraid, she said, “of everything.”Hayden BowenA victim’s advocate never left the side of Hayden Bowen as she approached the microphone, keeping a hand on her right shoulder next to her dark, wavy hair. As she struggled to begin, clearly uncomfortable with the spotlight cast on her by the bowl-shaped chandelier hanging in the center of the court, the prosecutor added reassurance.Although Hayden’s voice was quiet and shaky, full of sighs, her message directly to Gray was powerful.Hayden, who witnessed the shooting but was not injured, reminded the judge that even the courthouse – a place to seek justice – is a place where she can never feel comfortable.“I now live with fear lurking behind me everywhere I go. Everywhere. I have frequent panic attacks. I can’t stay in places for too long. I can’t go out anywhere. I can’t even stay in my own bedroom without feeling fear. I’m not able to be a normal teenager anymore.”Aryanna NormanThe summer break is the best time of the year for many high school students, and the July Fourth holiday is usually a day for a picnic or relaxing time on the water. For Aryanna Norman, after watching students shot in her own school, it only brings more anxiety.“I don’t hear fireworks the same again because to me, they sound like gunshots, and when it’s far away, it can be hard to tell the difference, which always gives me anxiety. Now I feel the need to identify an escape route everywhere I go because I get scared I’m going to be trapped like I was on September 4th.”Her dark, curly hair lies freely on a blue short-sleeved shirt with black stripes. Although she speaks with a stronger voice than the students who have gone before her, Aryanna’s nerves are betrayed by a stress ball she holds onto in her left hand. At times, she squeezed so hard, it bulged from underneath her clinched fist. The heartfelt testimony from children – along with the adult survivors who preceded them – induced silent tears across the courtroom, with families exhausting boxes of tissues that had been spread throughout the gallery. The tissue box sitting in front of Gray remained untouched.During the recess after their emotionally draining testimony, the nerves faded away. The girls who had bared their pain to a judge and the world suddenly seemed like students again, escaping from their nightmare back into the real world, tapping text messages on their cellphones and speaking casually about their plans for the weekend.Natalie excitedly introduced her mother to Beau, one of the two Apalachee High therapy dogs that were quietly waiting in the hallway. A goldendoodle named Frankie weaved around the legs of people standing around in conversation, accepting pets from anyone who needed the calm.But some of the most painful reminders of day that changed their lives came later that afternoon, as prosecutors played more than two hours of recordings of Gray speaking to police shortly after the shooting.Family members of the victims shifted uncomfortably in their seats as Gray’s choking sobs and wails of apparent regret played over the loudspeakers, with Gray himself sitting impassively at the defense table.But as the recording played on, the initial wave of Gray’s emotion began to dissipate into indifferent ripples. By the time he was being interrogated at the police station, Gray was calm. Prosecutors would later assert the emotion was an act, a ruse filled with Easter eggs tying him to other mass shooters.The families were visibly weary of Gray’s meandering, inconsistent statements. Some had heads down, eyes closed. Mason Schermerhorn’s parents had their cellphones out, casually scrolling even as Gray said in the recording that he felt sorry for the victims’ parents. Although the phone use technically broke the court’s rules of decorum, the sheriff’s deputies who lined the walls, many yawning themselves, looked the other way.The families touched by the unspeakable violence have become close, leaning on each other, sometimes literally. Breanna Schermerhorn was quick to give hugs, sometimes darting across the room to greet a family member or law enforcement officer she knows. Natalie sat next to her in court after speaking to the judge and crocheted, slowly hooking loops of yarn with the hand that is still recovering from the school shooting.Natalie handed Schermerhorn her most recent work, a floppy gold star. Schermerhorn smiled and held tightly to the star, a physical token of the bond they now share in tragedy, with both hands.By the final day, with Judge Primm’s decision approaching, tensions rose in the gallery. As Colt Gray’s grandmother, Debbie Polhamus, said she hoped he could “have a chance to prove himself,” Natalie flashed fury.“Never, never,” Natalie mouthed quietly.As the judge called a recess to make his decision, and the courtroom audience emptied into the hallway with its huge arched window framing the flags of the United States and Georgia, a shriek rang out. An unidentified family member began emotionally shouting, incoherently venting her grief as a loved one grabbed her in a bear hug and escorted her away.The central hall that had served as a middle ground, shared each day by victims, reporters and the defense team sitting side by side, became unbearably tense.Supporters cordoned the victims’ families, some of whom retreated into a room set aside for them that had been little used until now. The sheriff quietly led Gray’s legal team into a conference room around the corner, away from the view of the families.The therapy dogs were gone. Instead, a police dog trained in finding hidden electronic devices roamed the building.When Primm finally delivered the sentence, with Gray surrounded by law enforcement officers, it was clear the young victims had affected the judge.“The slain will not return to life, the injured will not forget their wounds, and a 16-year-old boy will live and die in prison,” he said.Families in the packed courtroom gasped as the words “without parole” finally came out of the judge’s mouth, and Mason Schermerhorn’s relatives quietly sobbed.“Thank God,” said Schermerhorn’s grandmother, pulling away the assistive listening headset she had been wearing to hear Primm’s words.After court was adjourned, Breanna Schermerhorn stopped to thank and embrace every deputy, advocate and fellow Apalachee family she encountered – a community forged in grief.But as they poured out of the courtroom Tuesday, there were few smiles. Everyone who had agreed to bare their emotions to strangers to ensure a shooter will remain in prison faced another reality: Justice is served, but it can’t undo that day in September.“This is not a happy day. This is a relief day,” District Attorney Brad Smith said. “The depths of their loss, I cannot comprehend.”The-CNN-Wire™ & © 2026 Cable News Network, Inc., a Warner Bros. Discovery Company. All rights reserved.
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