For the purpose of judging and examining plays, understanding genre enables clarity. In the Poetics, Aristotle (384-322 B.C.) defines tragedy as an imitation of a single, unified, action that is serious, complete, and has a certain magnitude. Tragedy deals with the fall of someone whose character is good, believable, and consistent; importantly, the fall is caused by an error or frailty (hamartia – tragic flaw) rather than a vice or depravity. Philosophies about fate, fortune, and circumstances may intersect with the misfortunes of the hero, but the ups and downs of life are related to the issue of free will (not destiny) in the settling of plot.  It is at the point of free will that revenge tragedy takes a distinct generic turn.

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What was the purpose, children, for which I reared you? –Medea (l. 1003)

While I have always been aware of the iconoclasm of Euripides’ Medea, I was struck even more by it this read through and the moral implications of the play’s status as a tragedy. Is Medea a tragedy? While it does contain many aspects of an Aristotelean tragedy, it seems to lack — at least for me — any semblance of anagnorisis, the tragic hero’s understanding and acceptance of his/her tragic flaw and a greater wisdom that comes from that understanding. Medea does leave the audience with a sense of pity and terror, even perhaps more than Oedipus Rex in its unnaturalness, if that’s possible. Euripides’ play seems to suggest that in order for the patriarchy to understand its inherent double standards, one must strike it at its very center: those who would continue its tradition.

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Apollo, friends, Apollo–
He ordained my agonies–these my pains on pains!
But the hand that struck my eyes was mine,
mine alone–no one else–
I did it all myself!
What good were eyes to me?
Nothing I could see could bring me joy. –Oedipus

When Sophocles wrote Oedipus Rex, the cultural and intellectual zeitgeist of Athens was undergoing a paradigm shift, from the privileging of one cosmological view to that of another. The gods were dying and being replaced by Socrates and his ilk: those who wanted to eschew the days of superstition and prophecy in favor of a more secure faith in the educated man’s ability to figure the universe and his place in it out for himself without depending on the mystical prognostications from spastic oracles. While somewhat successful — we all know what happen to Socrates (“I drank what?”) — this trend nevertheless made its impact on the time and the future of Western thought.

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The following questions should help you begin thinking about the major themes, characters, and ideas in the primary text.

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The following questions should help you begin thinking about the major themes, characters, and ideas in the primary text.

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A tragedy must not be a spectacle of a perfectly good man brought from prosperity to adversity. For this merely shocks us. Nor, of course must it be that of a bad man passing from adversity to prosperity; for that is not tragedy at all, but the perversion of tragedy, and revolts the moral sense. Nor again, should it exhibit the downfall of an utter villain: since pity is aroused by undeserved misfortunes, terror by misfortunes befalling men like ourselves. There remains, then, as the only proper subject for tragedy, the spectacle of a man not absolutely or eminently good or wise, who is brought to disaster not by sheer depravity, but by some error or frailty. Lastly, the man must be highly renowned and prosperous — an Oedipus, a Thyestes, or some other illustrious person. –Aristotle, The Poetics

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