I would be Medusa, if it came to it, I resolved. If the gods held me accountable one day for the sins of someone else, if they came for me to punish a man's actions, I would not hide away like Pasiphae. I would wear that coronet of snakes and the world would shrink from me. [loc. 205]
A retelling of the myths of Ariadne and Phaedra, with a decidedly feminist slant and an examination of the underlying oppression and cruelty at the heart of those myths. Ariadne grows up a princess of Crete, knowing from an early age that her mother Pasiphae was the instrument, as well as the victim, of Poseidon's rage at her husband Minos. Maddened with lust, Pasiphae had sex with a bull, conceiving the Minotaur: now her shame is all Greece's amusement and she's withdrawn into herself.
Ariadne knows her father is cruel, and when she sees the flower of Athenian youth brought for her half-brother to slaughter in the Labyrinth, she is determined to help them escape. Besides, their leader Theseus has such fine silken hair, such compelling green eyes ... Ariadne betrays her father and her country and sails away with Theseus -- though without her little sister Phaedra, who wasn't at the appointed meeting place. But soon after, Ariadne awakes alone on the isle of Naxos, abandoned by Theseus. Fortunately the god Dionysus makes his home on the island, and the two become close: their mothers, after all, have both been innocent victims of a god's rage. Ariadne comes to love Dionysus, even when she discovers his powers over life and death. Even when she finds out that he's kept the truth about her sister -- now married to Theseus in Athens -- from her.
And Phaedra, too, has a voice in this narrative: distrustful of men, mourning the sister who Theseus tells her was slain by a serpent sent by Artemis, complicit in the betrayal of her country and yet, somehow, no more important than the gems and gold that Theseus' men looted from Knossos while he fought the beast below.
There are so many variants of the myths that one could select other sources to construct a far kinder narrative than is set out in Ariadne. For instance, I wasn't familiar with the story of what Dionysus did to the Argive women. And I have a lingering fondness for Theseus after reading Mary Renault's marvellous The King Must Die and The Bull from the Sea at an impressionable age. But, sadly, the story here is all too credible. Theseus is invested in his own myth: he lies and cheats to achieve lasting fame. He is only too ready to believe the worst of his wife and stepson: I found Phaedra's death, and Theseus' response, horribly convincing. Dionysus, for all his divinity and his gentleness, is still prone to some very human emotions. His language is that of a seducer. "The other gods are not like me ... we have our mothers' stories in common ..." He holds all the power, all the agency, in the relationship: after all, he is a god, and a better one (so he insists) than his more mortal half-brother Perseus. And it's his arrogance, at the end, that sends Ariadne to her death.
Ariadne's fury at the ways in which men and gods have abused women, including her own mother -- including her -- is thoroughly relatable, as is the gradual evolution of her feelings towards Theseus, from youthful infatuation and the hope of being 'a fitting wife for a legendary hero' to the realisation that Theseus, like so many other heroes, will 'measure his glory in female torment'. The unfair ways in which women are victimised, objectified, discarded, are timeless, and Saint brings them to life with empathy and anger: #yesallmen #andallgods.
There were a couple of places where the writing sprawled a little, and I was vexed with the repeated references to the sisters' blonde hair: but on the whole I found this a compelling and fascinating read, though sometimes uncomfortable and sometimes -- with some knowledge of the underlying myths -- deeply melancholy.
Thanks to Netgalley for the free advance review copy, of which this is an honest and personal review.
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