Wow. That is about the only response to have to the Metamorphoses without knowing a lot more about the book than I do. Though it took me about half the book to clue into this, the poem starts at the beginning of time, and then wends its way through history. But unlike lots of books that take a similar gambit, Ovid doesn't go on to the apocalypse, but instead mostly just leaves us in the present day, which I really liked.
Along the way, Ovid stitches together the creation myths and otherwise of the Greeks into a coherent framework-- I'd need to really sit down and study this to get the details, but my impression is that he has some recurring figures he returns to for a couple books at a time-- so we get the house of Cadmus for a while, and then we have a collection of tales that are contiguous with Bacchus, and then we move from the Trojan war to the present. Oh yeah, did you know that Ovid incorporates the entirety of the Trojan War, and the best parts of the Aeneid? That he gives us the backstory of Polyphemus, the cyclops from the Odyssey, and also what else happened after Odysseus left? Well, he does.
Pretty much everything is in this book, and it's that scope that makes the book so impressive. It's really massive, and sustained, and when you're conscious of it, it's wonderfully crafted so that there are clear thematic links that develop book by book. So the chapter that includes Ariadne, I think, tells the story of what happens when men (and women) try to make art. Later chapters tackle things like what happens if you let women influence politics, etc. Sometimes the links are harder to discern, but I'm sure they are there.
There are lots of things to like here, piece by piece. The version of the Midas story, for example, is quite great and different than I remember seeing it before. The Orpheus-Euridice story is good, but Ovid is great-- and scandalous-- on what follows. The Caesar stuff was really surprising to see here, but I think it was also really well handled. The rise of Bacchus is also delightful and weird and narratively as dense as any un-pruned thicket.
I didn't find a lot of poetry in the translation I read-- which is not this one, unfortunately-- and I felt the loss. I got a clear sense of Ovid's global artistry, but had little appreciation for the work line by line. That said, a work like this is of such monumental scope and richness that I'm not sure I'd ever have finished it if the translation were rich on that level.
I didn't read this translation-- mine was by