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Chapter 1 considers the uncanny agency of weapons in Sophocles’ Ajax, Sophocles’ Philoctetes, and Euripides’ Heracles. On stage, the sword cues audience awareness of the intertextual factors conditioning the hero’s decision-making, forcing a reassessment of the Ajax’s rejection of suicide. His expressed desire to be rid of this weapon, which has brought him only pain and misfortune since the day he received it, gains in poignancy when Ajax is seen holding the weapon itself. A gift to Ajax originally from his enemy Hector, the sword continues to channel the animus of the unresolved duel they fought on Homer’s Trojan battlefield in the seventh book of the Iliad. The bow of Heracles in Philoctetes and the weapons in Euripides’ Heraclesprovide valuable comparanda for the animacy and entanglements of tragic weaponry.

Chapter 5 returns to Sophocles’ Ajax for a closer look at how Ajax’s legendary status as the unparalleled defender of the Achaean troops in Homer is reshaped when he bequeaths his shield to his son, Eurysakes. As an artifact, the shield is carefully positioned in between the by-gone world of epic and Sophocles’ contemporary Athens. Its hybrid status—part-heroic, part-hoplite weapon—allows the weapon to bridge the distance between Ajax’s demise at the hands of Hector in Troy (see Chapter 1) and his reemergence as one of the ten eponymous heroes of Cleisthenes’ Athens. The object, it is argued, thus not only fills an important narrative gap in the hero’s biography, but reaches out (across the invisible fourth wall) to Sophocles’ audience, inviting them to see themselves as the beneficiaries of Ajax’s shield-based legacy as a defender par excellence.

This chapter discusses the myth contained in Pindar's Isthmian 6, in which Pindar tells the story of how Herakles, visiting Telamon to summon him for their expedition against Troy, prays to Zeus that his host will have a son who will be a great warrior, naming the child Ajax. The importance of the common exploits of Herakles and Telamon for Aegina is discussed, especially in light of the pedimental sculpture of the Temple of Aphaia, along with the increased prominence of Ajax in the Aeginetan tradition, which reveals revisionism of more ancient versions of the Ajax myth. Also of interest is the way in which the mythical narrative of the friendship between Herakles and the Aeginetan Aiakidai seems to mirror contemporary relations between Thebes and Aegina, as an aetiology for cultural and political ties, between Theban poet and Aeginetan patron, and between Thebes and Aegina more broadly.

This chapter looks at five fragmentary Sophoclean plays — The Madness of Odysseus, Palamedes, The Arrival of Nauplius, Ajax the Locrian, and Nauplius the Fire-Raiser and considers whether any of them were produced together, in view of the close connections among the stories they dramatize. It concludes that there are powerful objections to any putative trilogy consisting of three of these five plays, and that they were probably all produced on separate occasions. Palamedes and The Arrival of Nauplius, as single plays, will both have ended — as do five of the seven Sophoclean plays that survive in full — under the shadow of future events well known to the audience but completely, or almost completely, concealed from the characters.

This chapter tackles head-on the problem of the double agon in the play's second half, as Teucer and the Atreidae argue over Ajax's body, and interprets it as part of a strategy that emphasizes spectating and speaking back. Points of contact with the Iliad demonstrate this shift in perspective from the hero to those looking on, as first Odysseus is installed as a spectator of Ajax's Achilles-like dialogue with Athena, Ajax's men articulate their concerns, and Tecmessa, though only a slave, speaks back like an Andromache. This process culminates in Teucer's defence in the agon, as Sophocles stages a battle of words not for Achilles' arms, but for Ajax's memory. In this the Chorus play a key role by turning to Odysseus, showing their progress from dependants to autonomous subjects in the agon and prefiguring the role of the Athenian audience, as judges within a fully realized institutional arena.

Pindar's Aiginetan odes were made for the commercial aristocracy of a small, civilised, and very rich island. The commercial success of Aigina attracted the interest of Argos and Epidauros, and for about a century the sea-going lords of Aigina supplied ships and probably tribute to one or the other of the older mainland powers. The storytellers of Aigina began very early to patch together a mythic cloak, a combination of borrowed Aiakid traditions with basic local legend, which should lend a distinguishing identity to the island lords. Pindar described the time he imagined the island encircled with Aiakid powers ready to hear its songs. This chapter looks at the legend involving Aiakos, Peleus, Phokos, Ajax, and Telamon, among other characters in Pindar's odes.

This chapter turns attention towards Sophocles' Ajax, particularly in light of Homeric precedents. It argues that Ajax personifies a strong link between heroism and the monistic style of decision‐making that is typical of the Iliad. More than that, Ajax is an exaggerated form of the Iliadic hero, one who gives even less credence to conflicting considerations when presented with a dilemma and experiences even less regret or loss as a result. Sophocles' entire portrait of Ajax, including the deception speech, works to illustrate the supreme moral certainty that drives the choices the hero makes. This certainty, it is contended, is in large part the root of his tragedy. The chapter then discusses the relationship between Ajax and Odysseus. While Ajax is not a play that hinges on a moral clash between characters, this inchoate ethical disagreement harks back in an important way to the Homeric division between Achilles and Odysseus and is, in the last analysis, incommensurable.

This chapter describes the time when Ajax recognized his lot, rejoiced and asked the army to pray to Zeus for victory—and pray they did. The fight between Ajax and Hector ended in a draw; each survived to fight again. Insofar as this passage appears in the Iliad, it clearly was accessible to Luke and his readers. However, this episode fails criterion two, analogy. Even though Iliad 7 appears in several elementary school exercises and in one advanced exercise, it was not as popular as the other books imitated in Acts. More significantly, a single imitation of this scene cannot be found in ancient literature other than a possible parallel in Acts 1, the casting of lots to replace Judas and to complete the number of the Twelve.

This chapter explores one dimension of the play, Ajax. The oddities of the play revolve around two central themes — life and death — or, more particularly, the value of being alive and the value of being dead. The cohesion of the play becomes more apparent, and some of the oddities mentioned less odd, if one sees Sophocles' depiction of Ajax as intending to suggest that a certain type of life is no better than death and that in some circumstances death can create a sort of ‘life’. Seen in this light, the apparently sharp distinction between life and death becomes less sharp, and Ajax's death becomes less of a dividing point in the play. The chapter shows how the text both of the Ajax and of other plays of Sophocles draws attention to this blurring of life and death.

This chapter presents post-classical adaptations of Sophocles' tragedies. It highlights the production of Ajax in 1882, which was staged in Cambridge, England. It also explores Martin Crimp's Cruel and Tender, the adaptation of Sophocles' Women of Trachis, in 2004. It also discusses the adaptation of Antigone by Jean Anouilh, which was performed in German-occupied France in 1944.

This chapter examines the concept of manhood as shown by Sophocles' tragedy Ajax. It states that in Ajax, Sophocles has used the word ‘man’ (anēr) 83 times, significantly more frequent than any of his plays, following a question on what a man is. It notes how Sophocles commemorated man's capacity for doing good and noble things, whilst also showing its capacity for doing evil, mean-spiritedness, and selfishness.

This chapter distinguishes between booty, incentive, and reward, and discusses their relevance to the case of Ajax. Booty is a share of a community's profits; its opposite is a share of the losses. An incentive is a management tool for influencing behavior; its opposite is a penalty. A reward recognizes success and confers honor. The opposite of honor is insult, and in the case of Ajax, a distribution of rewards is an insult to those passed over. Incentives and penalties are management tools; these do not belong to the language of leadership since good people will follow a great leader whether booty is in the picture or not. The Ajax dilemma is about rewards, thus it cannot be solved because dilemmas call for leadership, which is famously missing from the Greek army.

This chapter explains the author's rationale for retelling the story of Ajax. The story derives from Sophocles' play Ajax. Sophocles leaves much unsaid and unexplained, as in all his plays, and, most important, unjudged. He leaves to his audience the pleasure of judging such questions as whether or not Ajax's claim was treated fairly by the army, and to whether or not Ajax lied to his wife about his intention to take his life. The story is not an interpretation of the play; it is a new work, using some of the play's material, aiming at a clarity that the play does not provide.

This chapter focuses on the character of Odysseus in the story of Ajax. The story reveals that Odysseus, the man who will do anything to win, cared about Ajax. Odysseus also felt compassion for Ajax and brings respect for his honor. Odysseus can be compared to a quarterback who has respect for the offensive line. He accepts his fame with its huge rewards along with an acute awareness of his own vulnerability.

This chapter discusses five things wrong in the contest between Ajax and Odysseus. These are: (i) failure of justice to serve its purpose; (ii) the story brought justice into conflict with compassion; (iii) the army is poorly led; (iv) the procedure Agamemnon followed is aimed at fairness but produced only discontent; and (v) the failure of character.

This chapter considers the underlying causes that make a person a bad loser, based on the story of Ajax. One cause is insufficient anger, or anger too late. Ajax is a bad loser not because he snaps in the end, but because he has been losing all along and has not done anything about it. Instead, he has been accepting his losses quietly, so that no one knows his potential for anger. A second cause is ignorance about others. Ajax, as a man of action, despises words and everything related to words, the very things that Odysseus has mastered. Thus, he was unable to understand why Odysseus was rewarded instead of him. A third cause is self-deception. Many losers think they are doing very fine work indeed, and are aggrieved to find that others do not agree. Their self-deception makes them feel that they must have been stabbed in the back by some secret enemy or are victims of prejudice. Other causes include a tender ego, bad managers who set bad examples by refusing to lose, and insensitivity.

This chapter discusses the notions of honor and respect. Honor and respect are essential parts of what is due in a community. Where one gives honor, one is giving respect, but not the other way around. When one gives honor one is recognizing unique achievements; when one gives respect one is recognizing inclusion in the community. The opposite of respect is exclusion. The opposite of honor is insult (dishonor). Insult entails exclusion, but not the other way around. Some exclusions, however, are insulting. If we withhold respect from anyone who truly belongs in our circle, that is an insult. But if we fail to give an honor, that is neither insult nor lack of respect. The chapter then states the Ajax dilemma this way: How can we prevent differences in rewards—which are inevitable in any community—from undermining a sense of mutual respect?