Omeros

Derek arrives in London, England. There, he finds a man named Omeros—a bargeman with a “cragged face” who lives on the streets (193). When Omeros tries to rest on the steps of a church, the warden of the church ushers him away. Omeros gestures at the displayed Bible verses, pointing out the hypocrisy of the Christian warden and his lack of charity. Derek follows Omeros to the embankment alongside the Thames. The undersides of the statues are covered in grime. Derek reads the names of the boats, reflected in the river, and charts the daily existence of a “devalued empire” (195). Statues raise their hands toward the British Parliament as fog seeps into the city, obscuring evidence of the past.

In Glendalough, Ireland, Derek visits the monastery that was once home to St. Kevin. It is silent enough for Derek to listen to the sounds and the echoes of the land, sensing the “old shame of disenfranchisement” and oppression that was inflicted on Ireland by Britain (199). The flight of a sparrow puts Derek in mind of the Troubles in Northern Ireland and the ongoing struggle against the British Empire. He can sense the subjugation and strife of the conflict. In the Irish countryside lit by the moon, Derek sees the history of Ireland in the Round Tower of Glendalough.

In Dublin, Derek stands beside the Liffey River and thinks about James Joyce. Like Derek, Joyce reinterpreted the work of Homer; Joyce’s novel Ulysses examines themes of colonial struggle and identity. While sitting in a pub, Derek hears a song that Maud Plunkett played. The pub fills up with characters from Joyce’s stories; Joyce himself leads them in song.

Derek visits Greece. In his imagination, he can see Odysseus standing on the deck of his ship. He imagines how Odysseus feels as enslaved people below deck row the heavy oars. As Derek blends Odysseus’s story with the stories of enslaved people on other ships, he imagines Odysseus’s long journey home with a crew that is rebellious after being made to fight in someone else’s war. Odysseus yearns for the land, as do the enslaved people, even if the land is not their home.

Derek continues on to Venice, Italy, and Istanbul, Turkey, visiting sites from the literary classics. He has traveled so far that the statues and the histories he uncovers are tiring. He is now more interested in the birds perching on the statues. Derek prefers art to exhausting history, leading him to realize that his father was more interested in the manufactured, decontextualized history found in “mausoleum museums” than in the reality of lived history (205). Art is an example of this more lived version, but Derek recognizes that any power associated with art might mean less to an enslaved person relegated to the periphery of a dying empire.

Derek comments on the ironic way in which ancient Romans enslaved Greek people, using them as tutors to educate Roman children about democracy and beauty. That democracy was founded by a society that also enslaved amuses Derek, showing how hate and idealism can be found in the same place. In the American South, Derek thinks, enslaved people were given names from Roman antiquity, while the architecture of the buildings was derived from classical Greece. The vaunted legal systems of Rome and Greece—which inform American legal ideals—allow for the persecution of enslaved people.

Back in Massachusetts, Derek considers the traumatic and violent treatment of Indigenous peoples. He surveys a world of deforestation, displacement, and diaspora, as evident in the life of Catherine Weldon. The seasons pass as Derek moves through the city of Boston and the town of Concord. Linking these places to the American Revolution, he thinks about the way in which “all colonies inherit their empires sin” (208). American revolutionaries were also oppressors. Derek visits Boston’s famed educational institutions. The privilege of these places is linked to enslavement, and he sees an analogy between the lecterns and the auction blocks of the slave trade. To Derek, both mental and physical cycles imprison people.

In Toronto, Canada, Derek flirts unsuccessfully with a Polish waitress. He interprets her nervousness as that of someone who lacks the right documentation to live somewhere. He senses her displacement but also recognizes that the many famous writers of her homeland inform the voice of her people. She is part of “that pitiless fiction so common now” (211).

After returning to Boston in the fall, Derek sees Catherine Weldon. He travels back with her to 1890, during the bleak winter of the Ghost Dance as the Indigenous people deal with the seizure of their tribal lands. The United States Army moves across the Great Plains, displacing Indigenous people and heralding their defeat and massacre.

During the wintertime in South Dakota, Catherine thinks of her childhood in Boston. She watches the Ghost Dance and senses the dancers’ hope that there will be peace in the future. There will be no peace, so the dance becomes a premonition of violence instead. Much like Achille, Catherine is left behind after an attack. Sioux people are captured, and she is left alone in the camp, empty save for Omeros. She examines the damage done to the camp, mirroring Achille’s examination of the village. Catherine walks through the camp “like a Helen” (216). Omeros describes the power of the Ghost Dance to unite people in unexpected ways. Indigenous people are united by their weariness of the inexhaustible violence of the white Americans. Derek reveals to Catherine that the fight is lost. He watches her grow old and withered in her house; she hates the snow that reminds her of the violence of the past. A white snow covers everything on the plain, eliminating all colors. Derek tries to navigate to the house where his former lover lives, but she has moved. He cannot locate her.