I have always thought of the character of Ajax from the Trojan War to be the prototype of the "dumb jock" stereotype. Next to Achilles he was the best of the Achean warriors, but Ajax was deeply flawed in that he was stubborn and egotistical. I think his intelligence is further called into question by the myth regarding his death, which is the subject of this play by Sophocles. After the death of Achilles it is decided his glorious armor, forged by Hephaestus, will be given to the worthiest of the chieftains. Ajax expects the prize to come to him, but instead the other chieftains vote to give it to "wily" Odysseus. The inference to be drawn is that craftiness and intelligence are to be prize more than brute strength, which is why I tend to identify Odysseus and Ajax with that distinction between brains and brawn. Enraged by this slight, Ajax decides to kill Odysseus and the other chieftains who have slighted him, but Athena clouds his sight and he thinks the camp's livestock are his intended victims. When he comes to his senses, butchering a sheep he thought was Odysseus, Ajax is humiliated to the point he chooses to kill himself. The climax of this play, the oldest of the seven surviving plays written by Sophocles, is not the suicide of Ajax but rather a debate amongst the Achean leaders as to whether or not Ajax should be buried.

The issue central to the play "Ajax" is whether the title character should or should not be considered a true hero by the Greek audience attending the play. Homer, of course, has nothing to say regarding Ajax's fate in the "Iliad," although in the "Odyssey" when Odysseus encounters the shade of Ajax, the dead hero refuses to speak and turns away. However, in his telling of the tale Sophocles adds an important element to the suicide of Ajax. In his first scene when he is discovered amongst the slaughtered livestock, Ajax realizes that his intentions were wrong and that what he has done will make him look ridiculous; he decides to kill himself, ignores the pleas of the chorus, says his farewells to his son and departs. However, in the next episode Ajax returns, apparently reconciled to life; instead of killing himself he will bury his unlucky sword and live a peaceful life. Then a messenger brings the warning of Calchas that Ajax must be kept out of the battle that day. The next thing we know Ajax is cursing the Atreidae and falling on his sword. The change is significant because it makes Ajax's suicide a more rational act. Instead of taking his life in the heat of his embarrassment over what he has done, Sophocles has the character changing his mind twice and ending his life in the grips of a cold hatred against the chieftains.

This sets the stage for the debate amongst the chieftains regarding the burial of Ajax. When Teucer wants to bury the body he is forbidden to do so by Menelaus, who calls Ajax his murderer, focusing on the intentions behind his rampage. Agamemnon also forbids the burial, making an impassioned argument for the rule of law and warning against the reliance of the army upon the strength of a single man, whether he be Ajax or Achilles. Ironically (and we surely expect no less from Sophocles), it is Odysseus who makes the argument in favor of burial. For Odysseus the good outweighs the bad and it is not right to do a man injury when he is dead. This argument certainly echoes the moral at the end of the "Iliad" with regards to way Achilles treats the corpse of Hector. Certainly Ajax was a arrogant brute, obsessed with self-glorification and unfeeling towards his family and people. But when the Trojan army almost succeeded in burning the Achean ships, it was Ajax who stemmed their attack. For Odysseus, and for Sophocles, it is clear that such a man deserves to be considered a hero and demands an appropriate burial. "Ajax" is a minor play by Sophocles, relative to what little has survived of his work, but it does speak to one of the playwright central themes, which is to find that which is heroic in a tragic situation. Having found that spark in the life of Ajax, Sophocles seeks to redeem the tragic figure in this play.

This one volume includes two of the Theban plays of Sophocles, "Oedipus the King" and "Antgone." I was rather surprised that "Oedipus at Colonus" was not included, but certainly these two plays are the closest thematically of the three classical tragedies.

Although narratively it comes last in the Theban plays, "Antigone" was actually written first by Sophocles. Following the death of Oedipus, his sons, Eteocles and Polyneices engaged in a civil war for the throne of Thebes (covered in "Seven Against Thebes" by Aeschylus). The two brothers kill each other and Creon, brother of Jocasta, becomes king. He orders that Eteocles, who nobly defended his city, shall receive an honorable burial, but that Polyneices, for leading the Argive invaders, shall be left unburied. This leads Antigone, sister to both of the slain brothers, to have to choose between obeying the rule of the state, the dictates of familial binds, and the will of the gods. This, of course, is the matter at the heart of this classic tragedy.

It is too easy to see the issues of this play, first performed in the 5th century B.C., as being reflected in a host of more contemporary concerns, where the conscience of the individual conflicts with the dictates of the state. However, it seems to me that the conflict in "Antigone" is not so clear-cut as we would suppose. After all, Creon has the right to punish a traitor and to expect loyal citizens to obey. Ismene, Antigone's sister, chooses to obey, but Antigone takes a different path. The fact that the "burial" of her brother consists of the token gesture of throwing dirt upon his face, only serves to underscore the ambiguity of the situation Sophocles is developing. Even though the playwright strips Creon of his son, Haemon and wife, Eurydice by the end of the drama, it is not a fatal verdict rendered against the king's judgment, but rather the playing out of the tragedy to its grim conclusion.

Of course, "Oedipus The King" is not only the most read of all the Greek tragedies, it is also the most misread of the Greek dramas. The play's reputation exists in part because it was presented as the paragon of the dramatic form by Aristotle in his "Poetics," and it may well be because of that fact that "Oedipus The King" was one of the relatively few plays by Sophocles to be passed down from ancient times. When I have taught Greek tragedies in various classes students have reconsidered the play in terms of key concepts such as harmartia ("tragic error of judgment"), angonrisis ("recognition"), peripeteia ("reversal"), catharsis, etc., and they usually agree this play provides the proverbial textbook examples of these terms.

However, I was always bothered by the fact that Sophocles engages in some rather heavy-handed foreshadowing regarding the fact that the play's tragic hero is going to blind himself before the conclusion. The lines were closer to, dare I say, sophomoric humor than eloquently setting up the climax. But then I read something very, very interesting in Homer's "Iliad," where there appears a single reference to Oedipus which suggests that he died in battle. Remember now that Homer's epics were written several hundred years before Sophocles was born and that the Greek playwrights were allowed to take great liberties with the various myths (consider the three different versions of the death of Clytemnestra at the hands of Orestes we have from Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus). The Athenian audience would know its Homer, but "Oedipus The King" was a new play.

This leads me to advance a very interesting possibility: the Greek audience did not know that Oedipus was going to blind himself. This was a new idea. Jocasta (Iocasta) appears in the "Odyssey" when Odysseus visits Hades, but the only mention of the sin involved is in her marriage to her son, nothing about his being blind. Obviously you will have to make your own judgment about my hypotheses, but I have to think it is at least worth consideration.

Still, there is the fact that because even those who do not know the play know the story about the man who killed his father and married his mother, "Oedipus The King" is usually misread by students. Because they know the curse they miss something very important: the curse that the oracle at Delphi tells Oedipus is not the same curse that was told to his parents (you can, to quote Casey Stengel, "look it up"). As in his play "Antigone," where the main character is not the title figure but Creon, Sophocles makes Jocasta more than a mere supporting character in this tragedy.

"Oedipus Tyrannus" ("Oedipus the King") is not only the most read of all the Greek tragedies, it is also the most misread of the Greek dramas. The play's reputation exists in part because it was presented as the paragon of the dramatic form by Aristotle in his "Poetics," and it may well be because of that fact that "Oedipus Tyrannus" was one of the relatively few plays by Sophocles to be passed down from ancient times. When I have taught Greek tragedies in various classes students have reconsidered the play in terms of key concepts such as harmartia ("tragic error of judgment"), angonrisis ("recognition"), peripeteia ("reversal"), catharsis, etc., and they usually agree this play provides the proverbial textbook examples of these terms.

However, I was always bothered by the fact that Sophocles engages in some rather heavy-handed foreshadowing regarding the fact that the play's tragic hero is going to blind himself before the conclusion. The lines were closer to, dare I say, sophomoric humor than eloquently setting up the climax. But then I read something very, very interesting in Homer's "Iliad," where there appears a single reference to Oedipus which suggests that he died in battle. Remember now that Homer's epics were written several hundred years before Sophocles was born and that the Greek playwrights were allowed to take great liberties with the various myths (consider the three different versions of the death of Clytemnestra at the hands of Orestes we have from Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus). The Athenian audience would know its Homer, but "Oedipus Tyrannus" was a new play.

This leads me to advance a very interesting possibility: the Greek audience did not know that Oedipus was going to blind himself. This was a new idea. Jocasta (Iocasta) appears in the "Odyssey" when Odysseus visits Hades, but the only mention of the sin involved is in her marriage to her son, nothing about his being blind. Obviously you will have to make your own judgment about my hypotheses, but I have to think it is at least worth consideration. Still, there is the fact that because even those who do not know the play know the story about the man who killed his father and married his mother, "Oedipus Tyrannus" is usually misread by students. Because they know the curse they miss something very important: the curse that the oracle at Delphi tells Oedipus is not the same curse that was told to his parents (you can, to quote Casey Stengel, "look it up"). As in his play "Antigone," where the main character is not the title figure but Creon, Sophocles makes Jocasta more than a mere supporting character in this tragedy.

Consequently, while there is no need for me to convince you that "Oedipus Tyrannus" is a great play and the epitome of Greek tragedy, I have hopefully given you a couple of things to consider when next you use this play in class.

P.S. You can also play the cherubs Tom Lehrer's theme song for the movie "Oedipus Rex," which will certainly broaden their horizons in a totally unexpected direction with regards to this immortal tragedy.

This series of translations is a director's and teacher's dream: its integrity lies in both its theatricality and scholarship. I recently directed a production of Antigone using this text, and it received the highest praise from the actors and audience members alike. One actor exclaimed during a rehearsal, "I keep telling everyone that I'm in Antigone, and they roll their eyes and say, 'Oh, how boring'. I don't know what they're talking about. This play is great." I heard another student leave the theater saying, "Wow. I wish we'd read that translation in class. That was so much better than the one we read."

From my perspective as a director, I'd say that this translation made my life much easier. The poetry is eloquent as well as playable. The language itself guided my actors through their roles. Plus, with every other translation I read in search of the right one to produce, I found myself afraid of the Chorus. As soon as I picked up this translation, I understood the Chorus for the first time. It literally sang itself off the page.

Whether you are reading or rereading one or all twelve of the great works discussed in this lovely volume, Rudolph Binion's theory--that a subtext undercutting a text provides the appeal of a classic--will add intrigue to the deep enjoyment of spending time with fine literature. I found the essays in themselves to be written with such wit and ingenuity that I read from one to another to see if I agreed with the subtext the author was proposing, and to see as well how the theory developed from one to the next, but then I went back to the works themselves to read them with a new eye. In so doing, I rediscovered Goethe, Flaubert, Stendhal, Ibsen, and Mann. I still have seven to go. The pieces are short and lively. Each by itself has the quality of a fine literary essay, but because the author develops a theme throughout, each also develops logically and gracefully from the previous one.

This book is a great introduction to DSP. It provides solid mathematical background along with verbage to explain what the math means, pseudo-code algorithms for actually applying the concepts to software, and TONS of worked design examples and figures to aid understanding.

Also lots of references to where in the real-world the topics are used. Particularly in the area of audio processing.

as the first conceiving for the book got from its title, it is an introduction approach to dsp. slow steady steps ,many tactics to approach and address problems, alot of repetitive examples to reinforce ideas and many illustrative figures; make the book very useful to a dsp-beginner student. really i find myself marching slowly but surely during this book, but there is a need from time to time to refer to some other mathematical reference books to find how some equations were derived. i strongly recommend this book as a steady step in DSP field.

Hi, I am taking Professor Orfanidi's class. As a teacher, he has shown so much enthusiam for his work and so as his book. The book is excellent for begineers. It was especially great for me, since I didn't take Linear System, a prerequiste course for DSP. The best assest of the book is that it moves very slowly and doesn't seem to require a secondary resources(like a teacher). This is good because i don't go to classes. (think about 8 O Clock classes, naww) It is enriched with clear cut examples which points out subtle differences. If I could make it better, I would advise him to make the problem set interesting. (and also tell him to have 4:30 PM classes). The Problems are very repeative, long, unprocative and insipid. Doing DSP hw has always been a tiresome experience. The problems are only good for reinforcing necessary skill, they lack the allure of complexities behind critcal thinking.

Great drama. I'm not a huge "classics" fan and yet I enjoyed this. If you're into Greek mythology and like flowery language and prose (and lots of melodrama) you will enjoy this. HINT: don't read these plays line-by-line like a poem - I find that it's more difficult to follow them that way. Read this like you would a novel.

The murder of Clytemnestra by her son Orestes is unique in Greek mythology in that it is the one story for which we have extant versions by all three of the great tragic poets. Consequently, it is insightful to notice how each tragedy privileges different parts of the story. In "Choephoroe" ("The Libation Bearers") by Aeschylus, the middle part of his "Orestia" trilogy, Orestes is obedient to the gods in avenging the death of his father and the pivotal scene is the confrontation between mother and son when Clytemnestra begs for her life. In "Electra" by Euripides the title character has to persuade Orestes to go through with the deed and the dramatic confrontation is now between mother and daughter. In the Sophocles version of "Electra" the emphasis is on the psychological dimensions of the situation; after all, it is from this play that Freud developed his concept of the Electra complex.

Towards that end Sophocles creates a character, Chrysothemis, another sister to both Orestes and Electra. The situation is that Orestes is assumed to be dead and the issues is whether the obligation to avenge the death of Agamemnon now falls to his daughters. There is an attendant irony here in that Clytemnestra justified the murder of her husband in part because of his sacrifice of their oldest daughter Iphigenia before sailing off to the Trojan War (the curse on the House of Atreus, which involves Aegisthus on his own accord and not simply as Clytemnestra's lover, is important but clearly secondary). The creation of Chrysothemis allows for Sophocles to write a dialogue that covers both sides of the dispute. Electra argues that the daughters must assume the burden and avenge their father while Chrysothemis takes the counter position.

Sophocles does come up with several significant twists on the Aeschylus version. For one thing, Sophocles reverses the order of the two murders and has Clytemnestra slain first, which sets up an interesting scene when Aegisthus gets to revel over what he believes to be the corpse of Orestes and makes the death of the usurper the final scene of the play. This becomes part of the most significant difference between the Sophocles version and the others. Whereas Orestes emerges from the skene distraught after the murder of his mother in "Cheophoroe" and is repentant in the Euripides version of "Electra," Sophocles has Orestes calmly declaring that all in the house is well.

Electra is not as central a character to the drama as she is in the Euripides version, mainly because she does not have a functional purpose in this tragedy. Her main purpose is to lament over the death of the father and the supposed death of her brother. She does not provide Orestes with a sense of resolve because in this version he does not consult the oracles to learn whether or not he should kill his mother but rather how he can do the deed. Still, the part of Electra has enormous potential for performance. Ironically, this "Electra" is the least interesting of the three, despite the fact Freud made it infamous: by his standards the Euripides play speaks more to the desire of a daughter to see her mother dead, but since Sophocles wrote "Oedipus the King" it probably seemed fair to point to his version of this tale as well.

this play,i.e., Electra is literally an electtifying tradgedy about revenge. One can almsot say that it is in a way a precursor to Shakespeare's Hamlet.

i think this book is too deep and meaningful.. it enters too deep into the morals and values of man....

Following the ending of "Oedipus the King," Oedipus was exiled from Thebes, blind and a beggar. We learn from "Oedipus at Colonus" that his sons, Eteocles and Polyneices engaged in a civil war for the throne of Thebes (covered in "Seven Against Thebes" by Aeschylus). The two brothers kill each other and Creon, brother of Jocasta, becomes king. He orders that Eteocles, who nobly defended his city, shall receive an honorable burial, but that Polyneices, for leading the Argive invaders, shall be left unburied. This leads Antigone, sister to both of the slain brothers, to have to choose between obeying the rule of the state, the dictates of familial binds, and the will of the gods. This, of course, is the matter at the heart of this classic tragedy by Sophocles.

But I have always been pleased to discover that many students, when reading "Antigone," quickly come to the conclusion that it is Creon who is the main character in the tragedy (the same way Clytemnestra is the main character in Aeschylus's "Agamemnon"). In this volume, Gita Wolf and Sirish Rao retell the story so that the title character is indeed the main character (I suspect they are borrowing more than a few ideas from Anoulih's retelling of the play in 1944 while France was occupied by the Nazis).

It is too easy to see the issues of this play, first performed in the 5th century B.C., as being reflected in a host of more contemporary concerns, where the conscience of the individual conflicts with the dictates of the state. However, it has always seemed to me that the conflict in "Antigone" is not so clear-cut as we would suppose. After all, Creon has the right to punish a traitor and to expect loyal citizens to obey. Ismene, Antigone's sister, chooses to obey, but Antigone takes a different path. The fact that the "burial" of her brother consists of the token gesture of throwing dirt upon his face, only serves to underscore the ambiguity of the situation Sophocles was developing.

The chief virtue of this retelling, in addition to the excellent illustrations by Indrapramit Roy, is that young readers will better be able to put themselves in the place of Antigone as the tragedy plays out. Consequently, this is a much more personal version of the tale than the original play by Sophocles.

Superbly illustrated by eight of Indrapramit Roy's two-color silk-screened illustrations, Sophocles' Antigone is a splendidly presented retelling of the tragic story told by the blind prophet Teiresias of a Greek princess who discovers that her brother (a rebel against the rule of their uncle Creon) has been murdered and his body left unburied. Torn between her fealty to her uncle and her familial love for her brother, as well as deference to the gods, Antigone is a story of the tragic conflicts between love and duty, honor and the law. A physically beautiful publication, Sophocles' Antigone is a welcome and much appreciated work that will totally engage the attention and appreciation of contemporary readers.

The Lattimore/Grene translations of Sophocles balance ease of reading with closeness to the original Greek text nicely. Hugh-Lloyd Jones's translation, which can be found in the Loeb edition of Sophocles's tragedies, is unquestionably superior at rendering the original Greek text, but it can come across as archaic and confusing to high school students or those unversed in Greek literature. Lattimore and Grene, unlike many modern translators, DO feel that they owe more to their readers than the loosest gist of the original text, and they deliver it.
All that said, I would advise readers to be cautious of these translations for the following reasons. First, the plays are presented in the chronological order according to the myths they portray - not in the order in which Sophocles wrote them. In other words, even though Antigone was one of the first plays Sophocles produced and Oedipus at Colonus was produced posthumously, they are presented in order of their dramatic events. This means that they are very likely translated without regard for any evolution of Sophocles's thought or any implicit commentary the poet might have made upon the works of his own youth.
Second, in his introduction, Grene states that he sees in Oedipus at Colonus Sophocles's clumsy attempt to cover over the inconsistencies of his Theban Cycle. While this is certainly not all Grene sees in Oedipus at Colonus, the judgement of anyone who takes so irreverent and shallow a view of the last work of the most technically savvy tragedian of the classic age must be called into question.
In summary: Buy this book, read it, enjoy it, but if you're going to write an important paper on Sophocles, look at his work in the Greek, or at least in the Lloyd-Jones translation of the Loeb edition.

In the movie, "Amadeus," the Austrian emperor avers that Mozart's new opera has "too many notes." The composer, on the contrary, thinks the number just right, as does even his envious rival, Salieri. The defect lay in the emperor's taste, not in the composer's art.

In Don Taylor's translation of "Antigone," published in the book, Sophocles, The Theban Plays, there are indeed too many notes, i.e., words. The defect does not lie in the art of Sophocles, nor in the requirements of translation. Taylor wrote with a contract for television performance already in hand. He fashions lines that are easy for actors to play and for audiences to understand. Having translated a character's thought, he often expands, supplements or restates the material. Thus, the audience is given a second and third bite at the apple of understanding. But this is more like a college lecturer who fears that his students won't get the point, than like Sophocles, who is famous for a clear, solid, succinct style.

Sophocles peppers his scenes, usually dialogues between two persons, with extended series of one-line "zingers," which the characters alternately thrust and counterthrust. The power and excitement of the exchanges lie in economy and pointedness of expression. To illustrate, here is a segment from the first scene between Creon and the soldier who tells him that Polynices' body has been partly buried. The first translation is by Dudley Fitts and Robert Fitzgerald, available in their book, The Oedipus Cycle, and also in Greek Plays in Modern Translation, both listed on Amazon.com. The second translation is Taylor's.

SENTRY: King, may I speak?
CREON: Your very voice distresses me.
SENTRY: Are you sure that it is my voice and not your conscience?
CREON: By God, he wants to analyse me now!
SENTRY: It is not what I say, but what has been done, that hurts you.
CREON: You talk too much.
SENTRY: Maybe, but I've done nothing.
CREON: Sold your soul for some silver: that's all you've done.
SENTRY: How dreadful it is when the right judge judges wrong.

SOLDIER: Am I allowed to speak, sir?
CREON: No!
Why should you speak? Every word you say
Is painful to me.
SOLDIER: Well, it can't be earache,
Can it sir, not what I said!
It must stick in your gullet. Or further down
Maybe, a sort of pain in your conscience.
CREON: Do you dare to answer me back: and make jokes
About my conscience?
SOLDIER: Me sir? No sir!
I might give you earache; I can see that.
I talk too much, always have done.
But the other pain, the heartburn as it were,
It's the criminal causing that sir, not me.
CREON: You're not short of a quick answer, either.
SOLDIER: Maybe not. But I didn't bury the body.
Not guilty to that sir.
CREON: But maybe guilty
Of selling your eyes for money, eh sentry,
Of looking the other way for cash?
SOLDIER: I think it's a shame sir, that an intelligent man
And as well educated as you are
Should miss the point so completely.

The Fitts/Fitzgerald translation has 9 lines and 86 words; compared to Taylor's 24 and 160. Sophocles had used 9 lines and only 69 words. All the one-liner segments, occurring in almost every scene, undergo a similar transformation at Taylor's hand. But they are not alone. The same translating style appears in the major speeches of the play. Listen to part of the condemnation of Creon by the prophet, Teiresias, from Taylor first this time, then from Fitts/Fitzgerald.

TEIRESIAS: Listen Creon. This is the truth!
Before many more days, before the sun has risen
- Well, shall we say a few more times -
You will have made your payment, corpse
For corpse, with a child of your own blood.
You have buried the one still living: the woman
Who moves and breathes, you have given to the grave:
And the dead man you have left, unwashed,
Unwept, and without the common courtesy
Of a decent covering of earth. So that both
Have been wronged, and the gods of the underworld,
To whom the body justly belongs,
Are denied it, and are insulted. Such matters
Are not for you to judge. You usurp
Ancient rights which even the gods
Themselves don't dare to question, powers
Which are not in the prerogative of kings.
Even now, implacable avengers
Are on their way, the Furies, who rise up
From Hell and swoop down from Heaven,
Fix their hooks into those who commit crimes,
And will not let go. The suffering
You inflicted upon others, will be inflicted
Upon you, you will suffer, as they did.
Have I been bribed, do you think? Am I speaking
For money now? Before very long,
Yes, it will be soon, there will be screaming
And bitter tears and hysterical crying
In this house. Men, as well as women.

TEIRESIAS: Then take this, and take it to heart!
The time is not far off when you shall pay back
Corpse for corpse, flesh of your own flesh.

You have thrust the child of this world into living night,
You have kept from the gods below the child that is theirs:
The one in a grave before her death, the other,
Dead, denied the grave. This is your crime:
And the Furies and the dark gods of Hell
Are swift with terrible punishment for you.
Do you want to buy me now, Creon? Not many days,
And your house will be full of men and women weeping.

Box score, lines and words. Taylor 29:223. Fitts/Fitzgerald 11:106. Sophocles 16:94.

Are all these words really necessary? Taylor claims that his approach helps to make the text not only more dramatic and intelligible, but also more poetic. I agree that his version is easier to grasp by first-time viewers or readers. But in the process much of the Sophoclean clarity, solidity and reality are lost.

Sophocles was a master of ancient Greek tragedy. Any criticism of these works is worse than ignorant. End of story. And yes, I'm aware that that was a sentence fragment, so there's no need to notify me of that via some nasty e-mail.

It was ok but was not my favorite...

There are a few versions of the Three Theban Plays out there for you to buy, but this is the one I most highly recommend. And it all comes down to a key word: translation.

I really like the work that Robert Fagles does on his translations. They are easy to read, fluid, and still manage to be poetic. There's a lot of work put into these pages, and it shows.

For work or for pleasure, The Three Theban Plays is an important part of dramatic history that everyone should read. If you're reading it, read it the best way that you can. Get this translation, and get it now.

I just saw the 1957 film of Oedipus Rex. Wo - ow. What a story.
And this translation by Robert Fagles is extremely good. Sophocles' drama is so simple, and so perfect, that it will probably never be forgotten! This is the ancestor to Hollywood - from 2500 years ago. THRILL to the dramatic exposition of Oedipus' unknowing sins! LAUGH at the gorgeous double-entendres in every second line! SHUDDER at the scene where Oedipus and Jocasta think they have the prophecy licked, and laugh at the gods!

This is fine drama, no mistake. I have not yet read the other two Theban plays in this volume, but I'm sure they're great too.

Oh by the way: Australian readers take note. The cover of the Aussie edition has no fewer than EIGHT typing and setting errors! "Robert Eagles??" "Thebian Plays??" I see from Amazon that the American edition is corrected. But Australian readers should take note. I don't know, maybe someone accidentally submitted a draft?
To make sure you have the right edition, read the spine. The stuffed-up version says "THEBIAN PLAYS"...ooer.