Antigone Rising: The Subversive Power of the Ancient Myths - Helen Morales

"The picture of classical antiquity most of us learned in school is
framed in certain ways -- glossing over misogyny while omitting the seeds of feminist resistance. Many of today's harmful practices, like school dress codes, exploitation of the environment, and rape culture, have their roots in the ancient world.

But in Antigone Rising, classicist Helen Morales reminds us that the myths have subversive power because they are told -- and read -- in different ways."

I thought this was going to be a scholarly classical reception volume: it's not. Instead it reads like a series of popular articles that have a link (sometimes tenuous) or spring from a classical phenomenon (not always a myth) which Morales uses as a foundation for writing about our own cultural flashpoints, principally around feminist resistance to patriarchy but which also attend to other inclusive issues around race, gender and sexuality.

The writing is frequently fierce (and rightly so) with flashes of ironic humour (the terrible danger to men of a naked collarbone!) and the whole thing is easily read in 1-2 hours. I'd say that if you're already familiar with Greek and Roman culture and classical myths then there might be a bit too much storytelling rather than analysis here, but that feels appropriate for a cross-over audience. While I was familiar with most of the connections between myths and popular culture and the myths themselves, being both a classicist and queer, it was still lovely to read an eloquent book about this subject which is very close to my heart. I would highly recommend this book to people that know little about either Greek and Roman Myth, culture, or modern feminist issues. 

Age Rating 16+. Mentions of rape and violence. 

The Guinevere Deception - Keirsten White

"A new fantasy series set in the world of Camelot, re-imagining the
Arthurian legend . . . where nothing is as magical and terrifying as a girl.

Princess Guinevere has come to Camelot to wed a stranger: the charismatic King Arthur. With magic clawing at the kingdom's borders, the great wizard Merlin conjured a solution--send in Guinevere to be Arthur's wife . . . and his protector from those who want to see the young king's idyllic city fail. The catch? Guinevere's real name--and her true identity--is a secret. She is a changeling, a girl who has given up everything to protect Camelot.

To keep Arthur safe, Guinevere must navigate a court in which the old--including Arthur's own family--demand things continue as they have been, and the new--those drawn by the dream of Camelot--fight for a better way to live. And always, in the green hearts of forests and the black depths of lakes, magic lies in wait to reclaim the land."

I'm surprised that this book didn't work for me as I am a huge fan of White's And I Darken Trilogy. I also love Arthurian mythology and White's feminist spins on old tales, so what could go wrong?

Firstly, I think this book kept us in the dark for way too long. (It kind of is still keeping us in the dark as not much is actually resolved.) So long that it became uninteresting for me. All we know is that Guinevere is not the real Guinevere but a changeling witch, sent by Merlin to protect King Arthur. We spend so long not really knowing where the story is going, no plot direction, no tension what so ever. Guinevere's goal of protecting Arthur feels open-ended and not tied to any real conflict. This means that she spends a lot of time wandering around, chatting with familiar characters like Mordred and Brangien, and not doing much of anything. I actually had to stop reading half way through and go read something else I was that bored.

Even when a touch of drama appears, Guinevere is hurried off to safety. She is in no way strong or independent or bad ass and she uses so little magic she probably would have been better without it. If anything she was the complete opposite of empowering, being painfully useless the entire time. If the growing romance/s was supposed to be the main point of tension, I didn't really get a sense of that. Arthur was so bland and forgettable (though unfortunately all the characters were). This story and all of the characters where lacking the gritty realism and complex morality of White's other books. 

I also did not feel like this story was taking place in the 5th-6th centuries. There was very little to capture the feeling of the time and place, which is the exact opposite of what I would say about the author's And I Darken trilogy. I guess I also just don't believe that feminism is rewriting history to pretend sexism didn't exist, which it felt like this did. The way women are treated felt untrue to the times.

Overall a very disappointing book by a much loved writer. 

Age Rating 13+. I really can't think of anything untoward in this book. 

The Story of Kao Yu - Peter S Beagle

 "The story of a Judge travelling through ancient China, and the
criminal he encounters."

Kao Yu is a middle-aged judge in ancient China, renowned for his fairness and honesty. He spends much of the year traveling from town to town to assist with legal cases. Kao Yu is sometimes assisted in making decisions by a chi-lin, a multi-coloured Chinese unicorn (that looks nothing like a unicorn, by the way) who will suffer no dishonesty in its presence. 

Kao Yu, however, during the course of one of these journeys must struggle with the warring between his heart, his head and divine justice. 

“The Story of Kao Yu” is a melancholy tale, a story of love and loss, and the choices we make when any choice will bring us pain. Beagle effectively and respectfully captures the style of an ancient Chinese legend, while making some timeless points about our innate human weaknesses.

However, while I did enjoy the short story and the execution is perfect, I just felt that it doesn't bring anything new to the table. It relies on traditional archetypes and storylines, and doesn't do anything so many hundreds of myths and legends haven't been doing for millennia.

Age Rating 13+ Nothing untoward but a lady does kill a man for his wallet and sex is very vaguely implied by "staying the night."

Everything Under - Daisy Johnson

"The dictionary doesn’t contain every word. Gretel, a lexicographer
by trade, knows this better than most. She grew up on a houseboat with her mother, wandering the canals of Oxford and speaking a private language of their own invention. Her mother disappeared when Gretel was a teen, abandoning her to foster care, and Gretel has tried to move on, spending her days updating dictionary entries.

One phone call from her mother is all it takes for the past to come rushing back. To find her, Gretel will have to recover buried memories of her final, fateful winter on the canals. A runaway boy had found community and shelter with them, and all three were haunted by their past and stalked by an ominous creature lurking in the canal: the bonak. Everything and nothing at once, the bonak was Gretel’s name for the thing she feared most. And now that she’s searching for her mother, she’ll have to face it."

A truly haunting book. Something that sits with you for weeks after you have read it. 

Johnson creates a unique tale, channelling an ancient Greek tragedy, in a voice that is almost unbearable raw at times. Full of a strong symbolism, it is a novel that defies genres and labels. At the heart of the story is the relationship between mothers and daughters. A very particular, very difficult relationship, a bond that is unbreakable, a bond that, more often than not, goes horribly wrong, especially with a mother like Sarah. It is an exploration of a highly problematic childhood, a time of threat, of the moments when the roles of the mother and the child are reversed. The lack of clarity is central to the development of the story. Johnson's prose weaves and loops, hauntingly vague and allusive at times, and painfully and bluntly raw at others. Truly a writer to be watched. 

Told in 1st person through Gretel and in 3rd person through Marcus, words become jumbled, conveying cryptic messages that takes on all of the aspects of a non-disneyfied Grimm fairy-tale. As Sarah is struggling with dementia, there is an extreme confusion of words and intentions and communication is lacking. It is not accidental that Gretel is a lexicographer working on a dictionary and that she and her mother had invented a language of their own. There is also a focus on riddles, often without any provided answers and each character while being fully realised also feels recognisable to traditional fairy-tale tropes. I really enjoyed the representation of trans people, it just felt natural and unforced.

As someone who lives around Oxford it was wonderful to see my city being displayed with such wonderful literary aplomb and the creepiness only fitting the abandoned water pathways in autumn. 

Johnson weaves a tale that is impeccably rich. Piece after piece of the puzzle is discovered under layers of unspoken words and untold stories until you are slapped in the face with a plot twist that you where desperately hoping wasn't the case. We often say that one has to read a book in order to understand it. This phrase finds its true meaning in Everything Under. No one can explain the feelings it causes, you have to experience it to realise its impact. A difficult yet startlingly beautiful novel, easily the best book I have read in a while. Something I can see being studied in years to come. 

Age Rating 16+. Dark, uncomfortable and touches on mental illness, suicide, abuse, abandonment, murder, aging and incest. 

Ariadne - Jennifer Saint

"As Princesses of Crete and daughters of the fearsome King Minos,
Ariadne and her sister Phaedra grow up hearing the hoofbeats and bellows of the Minotaur echo from the Labyrinth beneath the palace. The Minotaur - Minos's greatest shame and Ariadne's brother - demands blood every year.

When Theseus, Prince of Athens, arrives in Crete as a sacrifice to the beast, Ariadne falls in love with him. But helping Theseus kill the monster means betraying her family and country, and Ariadne knows only too well that in a world ruled by mercurial gods - drawing their attention can cost you everything.

In a world where women are nothing more than the pawns of powerful men, will Ariadne's decision to betray Crete for Theseus ensure her happy ending? Or will she find herself sacrificed for her lover's ambition?"

This book wasn't what I was expecting. I figured this would solely be a retelling of the Minotaur myth, but it actually follows Ariadne's entire life (the minotaur is only like the first 25%). I really enjoyed getting to know more about her outside of her father's kingdom. I found her relationship with Dionysus interesting and the alternate perspective of Theseus refreshing.

The writing is also lovely, not quite on the level of Madeline Miller or Pat Barker(an impossibly high standard, to be honest), but still has moments of beauty. 

However, I was disappointed. To put it plainly, there was so much potential from the get go, but the longer the story went on, the more it seemed like this was just a re-write of the original myth from Ariadne’s perspective. Not much differed from my finite knowledge of the myth to which this was based on. There was no new take, or fresh approach. The book merely changed the POV character.

The book's pacing also flagged in the middle. It was mainly just the author trying to come up with some sort of emotional conflict that didn’t need to happen, and would have been much more interesting to have the darker aspects of Dionysus shared and explored with Ariadne. Especially since classical art DEPICTS her participating in his rituals with the Maenads and Satyrs. So the characterization of her being the dutiful housewife and mother was dull and off-putting, which is something I never could have imagined for the wife of the god of wine, revelry, ritual madness, and religious ecstasy. It would have also been a wonderful way to explore that feminist aspect with Ariadne finding her own wildness and passion. 

I was hoping the ending would give me the satisfaction I was looking for, I mean you hear “feminist retelling” and you get a little excited. However, upon reaching the end I have to say that giving this novel that description could not be more misleading. The ending itself also felt anti-climactic and sudden. I had no idea how it was truly going to end and the ending that was given did not leave me feeling satisfied in the least and mostly left me wondering what even was the point of the novel other than “women suffered a lot in a highly misogynistic society" ..which I mean, duh. 

Age Rating 15+. A few more brutal moments. Childbirth, depression, suicide. 

Spinning Silver - Naomi Novik

"Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, but her
father's inability to collect his debts has left his family on the edge of poverty--until Miryem takes matters into her own hands. Hardening her heart, the young woman sets out to claim what is owed and soon gains a reputation for being able to turn silver into gold.

When an ill-advised boast draws the attention of the king of the Staryk--grim fey creatures who seem more ice than flesh--Miryem's fate, and that of two kingdoms, will be forever altered. Set an impossible challenge by the nameless king, Miryem unwittingly spins a web that draws in a peasant girl, Wanda, and the unhappy daughter of a local lord who plots to wed his child to the dashing young tsar.

But Tsar Mirnatius is not what he seems. And the secret he hides threatens to consume the lands of humans and Staryk alike. Torn between deadly choices, Miryem and her two unlikely allies embark on a desperate quest that will take them to the limits of sacrifice, power, and love."

Spinning Silver is a loose retelling of Rumpelstiltskin. I say "loose" because you will recognise certain elements from the original - turning things into gold, the importance of names, etc. - but this is a completely different story with different characters and many new plot lines. This actually disappointed me as I was looking forward to a more recognisable retelling. There's also not just one Rumpelstiltskin character, as several characters embody different aspects of the traditional imp. 

I love that it's a very pastoral fairy tale with forests and country magic. The setting of Russia, with the description of Russian foods and the heavy, oppressive snow was wonderful and made it all the more unique. The setting of the book gives it a lot of it's atmosphere, and it works very well. There are parts that follow the characters through quiet daily farming activities, but there is always magic and fear thrumming just under the surface.

I found it really interesting that Novik explored the idea of a Jewish moneylender in this Rumpelstiltskin. It was unique take and created a very clever way of making something magical into something made of a strong will, and how easily these two concepts can overlap. 

However, structurally I do have a few issues with the book. I counted no less than six different perspectives - honestly, I may have missed someone - and you have to learn the symbol/image for each character, as that is the only way you'll know whose point-of-view the book has moved to. This can get extremely confusing. Unfortunately this caused a disconnect between the characters and myself as I was unable to fully emote with them or become attached. 

Though I appreciate books with multiple layers and complex plots, I think shedding some parts of this would have only benefited it. Some chapters lean away from complex and interesting, and toward dense and confusing. Despite encountering wondrous and unexpected forms of magic, Novik's characters are neither astonished nor surprised. Their flat response evokes a perpetual sense of apathy, a problem that's exacerbated by glacial pacing, further compounded by two of the female protagonists having such similar plot lines and personalities as to feel redundant.

Spinning Silver holds all the ingredients of a magic spell and there are some truly wonderful moments, but the execution leaves one cold and unsatisfied.

Age Rating 15+. Domestic violence, murder, discrimination. 

Rags and Bones - Assorted including Neil Gaimen, Carrie Ryan, Kelley Armstrong ect

The best writers of our generation retell classic tales. From Sir Edmund Spenser's "The Faerie Queene" to E. M. Forster's "The Machine Stops", literature is filled with sexy, deadly, and downright twisted tales. In this collection, today's most acclaimed award-winning and bestselling authors reimagine their favorite classic stories and use their own unique styles to rebuild these timeless stories, the ones that have inspired, awed, and enraged them, the ones that have become ingrained in modern culture, and the ones that have been too long overlooked. They take these twelve stories and boil them down to their bones, and reassemble them for a new generation of readers. Written from a twenty-first century perspective and set within the realms of science fiction, dystopian fiction, fantasy, and realistic fiction, these short stories are as moving and thought provoking as their originators. They pay homage to groundbreaking literary achievements of the past while celebrating each author's unique perception and innovative style.

Okay, so I didn't read all the stories in this book as some of them frankly didn't catch my interest so I will do short reviews on the ones I did. 

That the Machine May Progress Eternally  by Carrie Ryan, inspired by E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops - Absolutely brilliant. I haven't read the original but this short story was actually terrifying and it didn't take on a preachy tone. It was an intriguing science fiction/dystopian short story that I really enjoyed. Left me reeling. 

Losing Her Divinity by Garth Nix, inspired by The Man Who Would Be King - I found this to be a bizarre little short story, and one that I enjoyed mostly because of the more unique style of the narration. Told in first person, it reads like a person having a conversation with two others (which is exactly what's going on). It was confusing at first, but once I got into the swing of it, I found it to be entertaining and amusing.

The Sleeper and the Spindle by Neil Gaiman, inspired by Sleeping Beauty - A retelling of Sleeping Beauty, Gaiman manages to make Sleeping Beauty very dark (which he is very good at) and put a whole new twist to it. Gaiman twists two well-loved tales, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty together artfully. None of the characters are ever given names, the Reader thinks they know how the story will go, and then WHAM! Gaiman gives it a nice twist. The narration is third person which works brilliantly. 

Millcara by Holly Black, inspired by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla - A retelling of Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's Carmilla. The agenda feel continues, only this time our protagonist isn't bisexual; she's a infintile lesbian vampire. Who just looooves to talk about her girlfriend's succulent lips, body heat, skin, and everything else. Ugh; I don't want the details, thank you very much. Boring  and mildly pointless as it brings no new take to the story. Narration is first person, past tense, though it jumped to present tense sometimes, as well as feeling almost like a stream-of-consciousness narration.

Awakened by Melissa Marr, inspired by Kate Chopin's The Awakening - Agian I have never read the original. I personally love selkie mythology and stories and this one was no exception. The young selkie is forced to live with an abusive, twisted man because he posesses her pelt and in extention her. In rebellion she sleeps with another man who happens to be his best friend. While her actions arent illustrious I think a common miscenception is that selkies are like humans. Personally they arent, it would like being mad an elemental or animal cheated on you when you have trapped them. My favourite of the group I read. 

The Soul Collector by Kami Garcia, inspired by the Brothers Grimm's Rumpelstiltskin -  I didn't realize it was a Rumpelstilskin retelling until the very end, it is so dissimilar. Which was a good and bad thing. I enjoy retellings that are different from the original, but I also like to see some familiar aspects. The similar aspects in this story required some interpretation. Really enjoyed the gritty, twisteness of this version. Another favourite.  Because The Soul Collector deals with street crime, there's drug, sexual, and profanity content (5 s-words), but nothing horribly explicit. 

Overall an interesting read. The mixture of source material ranges from fairy tales to Renaissance literature to short stories from the 19th and 20th centuries. While I'm not necessarily opposed to this Laissez-faire approach, it's a bit odd in an anthology aimed at teens. How many of us have read E.M. Forster's story "The Machine Stops" or Henry James' "The Jolly Corner"?  I had hoped and expected more fairy tales and was disappointed with the lack of them. 

Age Rating 15+. A few allusions here and there and the Soul Collector is quite raw but other than that nothing untoward. 

Madame Bovary of The Suburbs - Sophie Divery

"She has everything; doting parents; a loving husband; all the comforts that the middle class have grown accustomed to. But she's bored. She takes up all sorts of hobbies to try to make something happen in her life, but no matter what she does, nothing truly satisfies her, because deep down, she feels flat. Empty. Until she meets Phillippe...In Madame Bovary of the Suburbs, Sophie Divry dramatizes the philosophical conflict between freedom and comfort that marks women's lives in a materialistic world."

This book has really stuck with me and is not easy to forget. Everyone wants to believe that life will turn out well. We are something unique and beautiful and our life's path will reflect that. We will accomplish something amazing. People will remember us after we are gone. We will eventually find a moment of complete contentment and satisfaction. But what if, like all to often, we are nothing out of the ordinary, accomplish nothing and feel nothing.  

The book had an extremely unusual and unique narrative style which at first I wasn't sure I was going to get on with. It employs a second person narrative which I'm not entirely sure I've come across before but Divry uses it so effectively that it just fits the story beautifully. It almost seems to speak to the reader and I think this works well with the idea that the main character, M.A. shares a fate which could belong to any one of us. Her story is universal.

Never properly named, M.A. is seen growing from childhood into adulthood and traversing the various stages of life's well trodden path. She grows up longing to move away from her parents and her childhood home and embark upon a new adventure. She goes to university, she has her first boyfriend, she marries, has children and does everything that is expected of her, even while she wishes for something more. Something which she can't quite name and always seems to be just out of her reach. The circle of life is effectively portrayed as she grows older and morphs into the role that her parents once had.

Distinctly French in tone and conception, this is quirky and charming, bleak and deadly all at once.  The cool narrative voice skewers her subject, an unnamed woman called just M.A. (Emma), but equally addresses us as the reader, forcing an examination of our own lives. However much we might consider ourselves different from M.A., there are places where we, surely, recognise ourselves.

There are few passages where Divry explains mundane things such as driving or washing machines as if the reader was an alien from another planet. She also occasionally gives us an in-depth look at a minor and inconsequential character. It creates a feeling of awe and disassociation. That something or someone that means nothing to you is important in its own right and is the star in their own show. 

Like Flaubert's Emma Bovary, M.A. is on a search for fulfilment which is never quite reached - but whereas Flaubert's heroine in entrapped by bourgeois conceptions of gender and petty economics, M.A., in theory, has the social and cultural freedom to pursue her own goals... only to find herself following Emma's footsteps more closely than she expected. With personal happiness always dependent on something in the future or on someone else - leaving home, a good degree, falling in love, children, the perfect dinner party, a passionate love affair - M.A. moves through life always bored, always searching.

Deceptively easy to read, this is also both philosophical and deeply existentially depressing. Would definitely recommend. 

Age Rating 15+ Some quite graphic sex scenes and the content needs a more mature mind to fully appreciate the themes. 

The Penelopiad - Margaret Atwood

Now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my turn to do a little story-making.

In Homer’s account in The Odyssey, Penelope—wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy—is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suitors and—curiously—twelve of her maids.

In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: “What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” In Atwood’s dazzling, playful retelling, the story becomes as wise and compassionate as it is haunting, and as wildly entertaining as it is disturbing. With wit and verve, drawing on the story-telling and poetic talent for which she herself is renowned, she gives Penelope new life and reality—and sets out to provide an answer to an ancient mystery.

Now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my turn to do a little story-making.

In Homer’s account in The Odyssey, Penelope—wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy—is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suitors and—curiously—twelve of her maids.

In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: “What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” In Atwood’s dazzling, playful retelling, the story becomes as wise and compassionate as it is haunting, and as wildly entertaining as it is disturbing. With wit and verve, drawing on the story-telling and poetic talent for which she herself is renowned, she gives Penelope new life and reality—and sets out to provide an answer to an ancient mystery.

Now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my turn to do a little story-making.

In Homer’s account in The Odyssey, Penelope—wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy—is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suitors and—curiously—twelve of her maids.

In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: “What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” In Atwood’s dazzling, playful retelling, the story becomes as wise and compassionate as it is haunting, and as wildly entertaining as it is disturbing. With wit and verve, drawing on the story-telling and poetic talent for which she herself is renowned, she gives Penelope new life and reality—and sets out to provide an answer to an ancient mystery.

Now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my turn to do a little story-making.

In Homer’s account in The Odyssey, Penelope—wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy—is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suitors and—curiously—twelve of her maids.

In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: “What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” In Atwood’s dazzling, playful retelling, the story becomes as wise and compassionate as it is haunting, and as wildly entertaining as it is disturbing. With wit and verve, drawing on the story-telling and poetic talent for which she herself is renowned, she gives Penelope new life and reality—and sets out to provide an answer to an ancient mystery.

For Penelope, wife of Odysseus, maintaining a kingdom while her husband was off fighting the Trojan war was not a simple business. Already aggrieved that he had been lured away due to the shocking behaviour of her beautiful cousin Helen, Penelope must bring up her wayward son, face down scandalous rumours and keep over a hundred lustful, greedy and bloodthirsty suitors at bay...

And then, when Odysseus finally returns and slaughters the murderous suitors, he brutally hangs Penelope's twelve beloved maids. What were his motives? And what was Penelope really up to?

Critically acclaimed when it was first published as part of Canongate's Myth series, and following a very successful adaptation by the RSC, this new edition of The Penelopiad sees Margaret Atwood give Penelope a modern and witty voice to tell her side of the story, and set the record straight for good.

This is not my first experience with Margret Atwood and I have been blown away with her work so far. I am also a great fan of any kind of mythological retelling, so the two together I thought would be a certain hit. 

To be honest though, I feel completely underwhelmed by this book. I went in with high hope wondering how Atwood will turn the waiting widow of Odysseus into a women worthy of her own full length novel.  Turns out that she mostly indulges in recapitulating the bulk of the original with a few wild theories and speculations thrown in as supposed rumours that Penelope has gleaned in the after-life.

Which brings me to how the story is constructed and this happens to be the high water mark for this novel. Atwood starts with Penelope addressing us from the other side of River Styx, reaching us through the mysterious sounds of the night and the barks and hoots of unseen animals. Penelope has grown bold since her death and is no longer the meek woman we saw in the original but a bold one who doesn't mind speaking her mind and spilling a few uncomfortable beans.

Penelope subjects all the popular characters of the odyssey to scrutiny but reserves a special attention for Odysseus, Telemachus and Helen. She convinces us with case-by-case analysis that Odysseus was no hero - he was a lying and conniving manipulator of men who never uttered one truthful word in his life. She talks of rumours that told her of what his real adventures were, stripped of the trappings of myth. Telemachus becomes a petulant teenager full of rebellion against his mother and Helen becomes the ultimate shrew, seductress and a femme fatale of sorts. 
But the story that Atwood really wants to tell is not of Penelope, that story is hardly changed except to assert speculations on the original text whether Penelope really saw through Odysseus disguise or not. What if she did? It hardly changed the story.

The real twist, and the only reason to take up this book is to see Atwood's exploration and reinvention of the twelve maids who were killed by Odysseus in punishment for betraying him by sleeping with the suitors. These twelve girls are the Chorus in this book and appear every now and then playing a baroque accompaniment to the text and giving us new perspectives on their story. This carries on until Penelope herself reveals to us that they were never betraying Odysseus, she had asked them herself to get acquainted with the suitors to get obtain information for her. They had never betrayed Odysseus or his kingdom. So their murder was just that - murder. This was Atwood's plot twist and her intended question was about the morality of this 'honour killing' as she calls the hanging of the slaves, which, she confesses in the foreword, used to haunt her when she was young - 'Why were they killed?', she used to ask herself and tries to present their case in this modernized version (which even includes a 23rd century trial of Odysseus).

In the end though, the reader hardly gets anything beyond these idle speculations and supplemental myths and small factoids like how Helen was Penelope's cousin and that they have to eat flowers in Hades. Even the main point of the book, about the dead maids, too ignores the fact that Odysseus genuinely seems to believe that they betrayed him by helping the suitors in various ways and hence it becomes as question of misinformation than morality and the blame will fall back on the shoulders of Penelope herself, rendering this whole exercise moot. 

An exceedingly disappointing book with a lot of wasted potential. Wouldn't recommend. 

Age Rating 14+. A few allusions to sex and coarse language. The hanging of the maids is also not pleasant. 

In Homer’s account in The Odyssey, Penelope—wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy—is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suitors and—curiously—twelve of her maids.

In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: “What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” In Atwood’s dazzling, playful retelling, the story becomes as wise and compassionate as it is haunting, and as wildly entertaining as it is disturbing. With wit and verve, drawing on the story-telling and poetic talent for which she herself is renowned, she gives Penelope new life and reality—and sets out to provide an answer to an ancient mystery.

In Homer’s account in The Odyssey, Penelope—wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy—is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suitors and—curiously—twelve of her maids.I have to admit that I feel slightly underwhelmed. I went in with high expectations, wondering how Atwood will take the 'waiting widow' of The Odyssey and transform it into a full length novel. Turns out that she mostly indulges in recapitulating the bulk of the original with a few wild theories and speculations thrown in as supposed rumors that Penelope has gleaned in the after-life.

Which brings me to how the story is constructed and this happens to be the high water mark for this novel. Atwood starts with Penelope addressing us from the other side of River Styx, reaching us through the mysterious sounds of the night and the barks and hoots of unseen animals. Penelope has grown bold since her death and is no longer the meek woman we saw in the original but a bold one who doesn't mind speaking her mind and spilling a few uncomfortable beans.

Penelope subjects all the popular characters of the odyssey to scrutiny but reserves a special attention for Odysseus, Telemachus and Helen. She convinces us with case-by-case analysis that Odysseus was no hero - he was a lying and conniving manipulator of men who never uttered one truthful word in his life. She talks of rumors that told her of what his real adventures were, stripped of the trappings of myth. Telemachus becomes a petulant teenager full of rebellion against his mother and Helen becomes the ultimate shrew, seductress and a femme fatale of sorts.

But the story that Atwood really wants to tell is not of Penelope, that story is hardly changed except to assert speculations on the original text whether Penelope really saw through Odysseus disguise or not. What if she did? It hardly changed the story.

The real twist, and the only reason to take up this book is to see Atwood's exploration and reinvention of the twelve maids who were killed by Odysseus in punishment for betraying him by sleeping with the suitors. These twelve girls are the Chorus in this book and appear every now and then playing a baroque accompaniment to the text and giving us new perspectives on their story. This carries on until Penelope herself reveals to us that they were never betraying Odysseus, she had asked them herself to get acquainted with the suitors to get obtain information for her. They had never betrayed Odysseus or his kingdom. So their murder was just that - murder. This was Atwood's plot twist and her intended question was about the morality of this 'honor killing' as she calls the hanging of the slaves, which, she confesses in the foreword, used to haunt her when she was young - 'Why were they killed?', she used to ask herself and tries to present their case in this modernized version (which even includes a 23rd century trial of Odysseus).

In the end though, the reader hardly gets anything beyond these idle speculations and supplemental myths and small factoids like how Helen was really Penelope's cousin and that they have to eat flowers in Hades. Even the main point of the book, about the dead maids, too ignores the fact that Odysseus genuinely seems to believe that they betrayed him by helping the suitors in various ways and hence it becomes as question of misinformation than morality and the blame will fall back on the shoulders of Penelope herself, rendering this whole exercise moot.I have to admit that I feel slightly underwhelmed. I went in with high expectations, wondering how Atwood will take the 'waiting widow' of The Odyssey and transform it into a full length novel. Turns out that she mostly indulges in recapitulating the bulk of the original with a few wild theories and speculations thrown in as supposed rumors that Penelope has gleaned in the after-life.

Which brings me to how the story is constructed and this happens to be the high water mark for this novel. Atwood starts with Penelope addressing us from the other side of River Styx, reaching us through the mysterious sounds of the night and the barks and hoots of unseen animals. Penelope has grown bold since her death and is no longer the meek woman we saw in the original but a bold one who doesn't mind speaking her mind and spilling a few uncomfortable beans.

Penelope subjects all the popular characters of the odyssey to scrutiny but reserves a special attention for Odysseus, Telemachus and Helen. She convinces us with case-by-case analysis that Odysseus was no hero - he was a lying and conniving manipulator of men who never uttered one truthful word in his life. She talks of rumors that told her of what his real adventures were, stripped of the trappings of myth. Telemachus becomes a petulant teenager full of rebellion against his mother and Helen becomes the ultimate shrew, seductress and a femme fatale of sorts.

But the story that Atwood really wants to tell is not of Penelope, that story is hardly changed except to assert speculations on the original text whether Penelope really saw through Odysseus disguise or not. What if she did? It hardly changed the story.

The real twist, and the only reason to take up this book is to see Atwood's exploration and reinvention of the twelve maids who were killed by Odysseus in punishment for betraying him by sleeping with the suitors. These twelve girls are the Chorus in this book and appear every now and then playing a baroque accompaniment to the text and giving us new perspectives on their story. This carries on until Penelope herself reveals to us that they were never betraying Odysseus, she had asked them herself to get acquainted with the suitors to get obtain information for her. They had never betrayed Odysseus or his kingdom. So their murder was just that - murder. This was Atwood's plot twist and her intended question was about the morality of this 'honor killing' as she calls the hanging of the slaves, which, she confesses in the foreword, used to haunt her when she was young - 'Why were they killed?', she used to ask herself and tries to present their case in this modernized version (which even includes a 23rd century trial of Odysseus).

In the end though, the reader hardly gets anything beyond these idle speculations and supplemental myths and small factoids like how Helen was really Penelope's cousin and that they have to eat flowers in Hades. Even the main point of the book, about the dead maids, too ignores the fact that Odysseus genuinely seems to believe that they betrayed him by helping the suitors in various ways and hence it becomes as question of misinformation than morality and the blame will fall back on the shoulders of Penelope herself, rendering this whole exercise moot.I have to admit that I feel slightly underwhelmed. I went in with high expectations, wondering how Atwood will take the 'waiting widow' of The Odyssey and transform it into a full length novel. Turns out that she mostly indulges in recapitulating the bulk of the original with a few wild theories and speculations thrown in as supposed rumors that Penelope has gleaned in the after-life.

Which brings me to how the story is constructed and this happens to be the high water mark for this novel. Atwood starts with Penelope addressing us from the other side of River Styx, reaching us through the mysterious sounds of the night and the barks and hoots of unseen animals. Penelope has grown bold since her death and is no longer the meek woman we saw in the original but a bold one who doesn't mind speaking her mind and spilling a few uncomfortable beans.

Penelope subjects all the popular characters of the odyssey to scrutiny but reserves a special attention for Odysseus, Telemachus and Helen. She convinces us with case-by-case analysis that Odysseus was no hero - he was a lying and conniving manipulator of men who never uttered one truthful word in his life. She talks of rumors that told her of what his real adventures were, stripped of the trappings of myth. Telemachus becomes a petulant teenager full of rebellion against his mother and Helen becomes the ultimate shrew, seductress and a femme fatale of sorts.

But the story that Atwood really wants to tell is not of Penelope, that story is hardly changed except to assert speculations on the original text whether Penelope really saw through Odysseus disguise or not. What if she did? It hardly changed the story.

The real twist, and the only reason to take up this book is to see Atwood's exploration and reinvention of the twelve maids who were killed by Odysseus in punishment for betraying him by sleeping with the suitors. These twelve girls are the Chorus in this book and appear every now and then playing a baroque accompaniment to the text and giving us new perspectives on their story. This carries on until Penelope herself reveals to us that they were never betraying Odysseus, she had asked them herself to get acquainted with the suitors to get obtain information for her. They had never betrayed Odysseus or his kingdom. So their murder was just that - murder. This was Atwood's plot twist and her intended question was about the morality of this 'honor killing' as she calls the hanging of the slaves, which, she confesses in the foreword, used to haunt her when she was young - 'Why were they killed?', she used to ask herself and tries to present their case in this modernized version (which even includes a 23rd century trial of Odysseus).

In the end though, the reader hardly gets anything beyond these idle speculations and supplemental myths and small factoids like how Helen was really Penelope's cousin and that they have to eat flowers in Hades. Even the main point of the book, about the dead maids, too ignores the fact that Odysseus genuinely seems to believe that they betrayed him by helping the suitors in various ways and hence it becomes as question of misinformation than morality and the blame will fall back on the shoulders of Penelope herself, rendering this whole exercise moot.

In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: “What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” In Atwood’s dazzling, playful retelling, the story becomes as wise and compassionate as it is haunting, and as wildly entertaining as it is disturbing. With wit and verve, drawing on the story-telling and poetic talent for which she herself is renowned, she gives Penelope new life and reality—and sets out to provide an answer to an ancient mystery.

Now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my turn to do a little story-making.

In Homer’s account in The Odyssey, Penelope—wife of Odysseus and cousin of the beautiful Helen of Troy—is portrayed as the quintessential faithful wife, her story a salutary lesson through the ages. Left alone for twenty years when Odysseus goes off to fight in the Trojan War after the abduction of Helen, Penelope manages, in the face of scandalous rumors, to maintain the kingdom of Ithaca, bring up her wayward son, and keep over a hundred suitors at bay, simultaneously. When Odysseus finally comes home after enduring hardships, overcoming monsters, and sleeping with goddesses, he kills her suitors and—curiously—twelve of her maids.

In a splendid contemporary twist to the ancient story, Margaret Atwood has chosen to give the telling of it to Penelope and to her twelve hanged maids, asking: “What led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to?” In Atwood’s dazzling, playful retelling, the story becomes as wise and compassionate as it is haunting, and as wildly entertaining as it is disturbing. With wit and verve, drawing on the story-telling and poetic talent for which she herself is renowned, she gives Penelope new life and reality—and sets out to provide an answer to an ancient mystery.