Lysistrata - a vehicle for discussion

Lysistrata – a vehicle for discussion

Tammy Hansen Snell

When my daughter Sheila grew old enough to read my favorite books, I experienced a deep sense of joy. When she grew old enough to recommend books to me, the well of joy expanded exponentially.

The writer Joe Queenan calculated he could read 2138 more books, if he lives to his normal life expectancy. He broke this down into types: “500 masterpieces, 500 minor classics, 500 overlooked works of genius, 500 oddities and 138 examples of high-class trash.” I don’t know if he reads faster or slower than I do, but he has made me a far more finicky reader than I would have been without this thought of a finite number.

Books hold vast mysteries, hysterical anecdotes, and awe-inspiring insights. With every book I learn more about myself, enjoy more about others, and expand my experiences of the world a thousand-fold. The vast number of exhilarating and heartwarming experiences dormant in books, waiting for me to crack them open and become aware of them, gives every spare moment of the day glorious potential.

There is never any danger of running short, because no matter how choosy I get, or how rigorously I set my standards – there are still a few million books from which to select. A few million is no exaggeration – even with the unbending requirement that they make me gasp with delight and teach me something – and that’s been without expanding the scope back before 0 B.C., a time period I’ve narrow-mindedly been ignoring.

Without Sheila’s recommendation, I would have remained unaware of the chuckles, blushes, and aha moments held in the pages of a play written in 411 B.C. “Mom,” she said, “You ought to take a look at this play I’m reading – Lysistrata.” And with that she handed me the map to a goldmine. Thanks, honey.

Lysistrata sounds like an awesome name for a car. “New for 2012 – the sleek, fuel-efficient Toyota Lysistrata!” Or a dog. “Meet our Labrador Retriever, Lysistrata – she catches Frisbees.” Lysistrata was written by Aristophanes. (Another great name, but his doesn’t work as well on a car.) Aristophanes lived from 448 to 385 B.C., during the Peloponnesian War, which involved fierce fighting between Athens and Sparta. It started in 460 B.C. and lasted until 404 B.C, with only a minimal time of peace from 445 to 431.

Lysistrata is the main character in the play, and my new hero. She is one tough cookie, with the charisma and panache to carry out an ingenious peace plan. She calls together Athenian, Spartan, Boeotian, and Corinthian women, all of them married, and all tired of losing husbands and sons to war. “All the hopes of all the States are anchored on us women,” she tells them, urging them all to agree to her plan of withholding themselves from their husbands until the men stop fighting and arrange for lasting peace. The women aren’t wild about this, but know that Lysistrata is right – unless they force change by refusing to have sex, the men will always go to war.

The women take over the Acropolis, locking themselves inside. It doesn’t take long before the men are outraged, and their chorus sings, “What coaxing rogues are ye! That was quite a true opinion which a wise man gave about you. We can’t live with such tormentors, no, by Zeus, nor yet without you.” (And now we now how old THAT line is.) The men try to force their way in, and fail, and eventually agree to talk peace.

Lysistrata reminds the armies of what they have in common, and the times each region of men has helped the other. She gets them to make a treaty, settling arguments over disputed territory. (The fact that a woman named Reconciliation stands in as a map makes me think Aristophanes wrote plays that were the Ancient Greek equivalent of The Daily Show.)

Before everybody goes back to their respective homes with their spouses, they feast together. Afterwards, one ambassador says to another, “We were wondrous witty in our cups.” The second answers, “Ay, ‘tis when we’re sober we’re so daft. Now if the State would take a friend’s advice, ‘twould make its envoys always all get drunk. When we go dry to Sparta, all our aim is just to see what mischief we can do. We don’t hear aught they say; and we infer a heap of things they never said at all.” International relations explained, 2419 years ago.

Unlike Queenan, I don’t categorize the books I read – and it’s a good thing. I could make arguments for Lysistrata to be in any of Queenan’s classifications – masterpiece, minor classic, overlooked work of genius, oddity, and high-class trash. Instead I’ll just classify it as DWR – definitely worth reading.