72 pages • 2-hour read
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Content Warning: This section of the guide includes discussion of death and racism.
Achille is a central figure in Omeros. Though his name binds him to the literary figure Achilles, he is neither a great warrior nor celebrated. Instead, he is introduced to the audience at a low point in his life. He has no money, and his girlfriend, Helen, is on the cusp of leaving him for his friend Hector. Achille fights Hector; ostensibly, their quarrel is about a bailing tin, but, in truth, Achille and Hector resent each other’s claim on Helen. Achille takes out his fury on his friend, but this outburst of emotion does nothing to help him—Helen leaves Achille for Hector anyway. Achille’s resulting sadness is likened to the festering wound on Philoctete’s ankle; Achille’s psychological torment is an active impediment on his life and seems to have no cure.
Losing Helen is both a romantic and a symbolic loss. Throughout the poem, Helen often represents the island of Saint Lucia itself. She is the embodiment of its culture, a holistic benevolence that has the power to make Achille feel less alone. Losing Helen means losing a connection to community and tradition—an ominous sign for Achille’s relationship with the island. However, the reason why Achille loses Helen is also symbolic. Though he needs money to satisfy Helen, Achille refuses to give up the life of a fisherman—the only livelihood he has ever known. Unlike Hector, who wins Helen because he gives up life on the sea and becomes a driver, Achille has a fundamental bond to the sea that he cannot betray. Achille clings to the island’s traditional way of life, even as large fishing conglomerates erase his ability to ply his trade. He is fighting a losing battle against modernity and paying for it with the loss of his girlfriend and his happiness.
Amid this suffering, Achille goes on a hallucinatory spiritual journey brought about by sunstroke, following a sea swift to Africa to meet his father. The return to Africa is a dramatic enactment of Achille’s need to resolve his identity crisis. By reconnecting with the culture and traditions that were violently ripped away from his ancestors by the slave trade and colonialism, Achille reaches the true source of his festering wound—his lack of agency over the past. He returns from his symbolic journey restored. He cannot change the suffering of his ancestors, but he can better understand himself and live a satisfying life. After Hector’s tragic death, he reunites with Helen and resolves to raise her unborn baby in connection with African tradition and culture. He wants to end the cycle of generational trauma for future generations, remember his ancestors, and protect his community’s future.
Helen, arguably the most important character in Omeros, is a multilayered creation. She is a beautiful woman who turns the head of every man on Saint Lucia, she represents the island itself, and she is the heart of Walcott’s Homeric allegory.
Helen is introduced to readers through the desire of patrons in the bar—an objectifying perspective that highlights how Helen’s beauty causes her problems in Saint Lucia’s misogynistic society. Helen quits her job because she refuses to let customers grope her and is criticized as overly proud and arrogant for her refusal to bow before male demands. Of all the male characters in the novel, only Achille grasps that Helen is not at fault for being beautiful, nor is she to blame for men’s lust. Achille’s ability to empathize with Helen suggests why she loves him despite their troubles.
Like her epic antecedent, Helen of Troy, Helen is caught between two men. Hector and Achille vie for her affection, causing a rift between two friends that threatens the small community. However, the Homeric analogy does not always fit perfectly. Helen in Omeros has more agency than Helen of Troy. Homer’s Helen is essentially a prize: Her love affair with Paris is precipitated by divine intervention. Walcott’s Helen, in contrast, chooses to leave Achille for Hector. After Hector’s death, she chooses to reunite with Achille.
Helen’s connection to the Plunkett family demonstrates her character’s symbolic and literary roles. Maud pities Helen, empathizing with her strife in a patriarchal society while resenting the theft of her dress. Dennis, meanwhile, transforms his sexual desire for Helen into colonial guilt. He turns Helen into a representation of the island; the gift he wants to give Helen is a history of Saint Lucia. For Dennis, then, Helen becomes an inspiring muse. Although she has never spoken to him about her ancestors, enslavement, or the island’s colonial past, Helen’s beauty—and the beauty of the island—crystallizes his disillusionment with Britain’s myth of empire and his own complicity. Helen does not participate in Dennis’s epiphanies. Instead, by using Helen as a literary device, Dennis and Derek rob her of her agency. They want to write Helen’s story, rather than allow her to dictate her own fate.
Eventually, Achille, Derek, and Dennis reach the understanding that Helen cannot symbolize the colonial history of the island. They realize that their attempts to turn Helen into something more than just a woman—something more than she ever asked to be—is an imposition that says more about them than it does about her. The closing passages of the poem achieve catharsis through the characters’ acceptance that Helen—and thus Saint Lucia—has its own agency and volition. In the meantime, Helen’s pregnancy hints at the future; she will not allow this child to be objectified as she has been. Helen’s pregnancy is an optimistic symbol of potential.
Dennis and Maud are outsiders to Saint Lucia. Whereas Achille, Helen, Hector, and narrator Derek were born and raised on the island, the Plunketts are white British retirees with different relationships to the island’s history. Maud is Irish; as Derek notes, her homeland has a long history of British colonialism and oppression. Dennis, on the other hand, is English and was a soldier in the British Army—he is institutionally bound to the military force that once colonized Saint Lucia. In this sense, Dennis functions as a foil to Achille. Whereas Achille confronts the generational trauma that colonialism inflicted on his family, Dennis experiences immense guilt about being part of the forces that inflicted this violence in the 19th century. Dennis hoped to escape the drudgery of his life in Britain and the violent memories of his WWII experience by retiring in Saint Lucia; in response to his revelations about Britain’s hollow myth of empire, he becomes obsessed with researching history.
Dennis distances himself from anything British. He refuses to join ex-pat clubs on the island, which he regards as a hotbed for snobbery and class prejudice. However, his outsider status in the small town remains, reminding him of his complicity in the machine of British imperialism. When he speaks, his voice often defaults to a militaristic bark that seems to be patronizing the local people. In his anxiety, he fixates on Helen as a symbol of the island. He hopes to write a past of Saint Lucia for her, filling in the gaps that he believes may have been caused by colonialism.
The confused nature of Dennis’s desire for Helen and his obsessive research isolate him from his dying wife. During Maud’s last days, she rereads his old love letters while he is buried in books. Poring over other people’s history means losing the chance to relive his own with the woman he loves. After Maud’s death, Dennis’s grieving independence ingratiates him into the community. He comes to see Helen as an individual because he no longer needs to see her as a symbol. The compassion of his neighbors erodes his outsider status, and he becomes a part of the town.
Derek, a stand-in for author Derek Walcott, is the narrator of Omeros. However, Derek is not a detached observer but emerges as a key character in the poem. Born and raised in Saint Lucia, he has a natural affinity for the island. Like so many of the characters, however, he also suffers from a permanent wound: pain and guilt about his duty to the island and his culpability as an author mining traditional life for his art and as a man who has given up his family for his literary ambitions. Like Achille, Ma Kilman, and other characters, Derek must confront the dead to learn about himself. The ghostlike apparition of his father, Warwick, encourages Derek to visit the homelands of other great writers and see the similarities between their situations and his own. Buoyed by James Joyce in Ireland and Homer in Greece, Derek situates himself in a literary context that validates the existence of the poem. Just as Achille traces his own ancestry after his vision, Derek’s travels and descent into the underworld allow him to find his place in the canon.
Yet Derek never fully resolves his failures and faults. He does not seek to reconnect with the partners and children whom he has abandoned in his quest to become a better writer. Moreover, he cannot completely explain his decision to adapt Homer’s epics into the story of fishermen on Saint Lucia; the complexity of borrowing a poetic form from the Western cultures that colonized the island and enslaved its inhabitants cannot be untangled. Derek pays an emotional and psychological price for writing Omeros; now, he must hope that the poem’s meaning and intention—to reclaim life on Saint Lucia as worthy of epic scope—justifies his actions and atones for some of his mistakes.



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