"Head of a Gorgon" by Raegen M. Pietrucha--Fiction Review

Today Obscurists, we’re diving into another book on poetry. Full disclosure—these poems and the overall narrative of this book touch on violence, sexual and otherwise. It also involves mental health, including straying into the realm of suicide ideation, so it’s worth keeping that in mind before picking it up. Besides that, “Head of a Gorgon” by Raegen M. Pietrucha is thought-provoking and visceral.

What I love about this book:

Succinctly put, “Head of a Gorgon” is an incredible read—it’s short, so I flew through it in one sitting, but I also felt compelled to re-read portions of it again, more than once. 

I’m a sucker for anything touching on Greek myth ever since I read Madeline Miller’s “Circe,” which I’ve also reviewed. Pietrucha’s work hits in the same vein as that novel—reimaging a female character from classical myth as someone more complicated than a straight villain—while approaching the subject from a wildly different angle.

I found myself enjoying the structure of this book—a narrative told through poems—it got me to do two things I seldom do; first, I read a physical paper book with my terrible eyes, and second I read a poetry book which is always a challenge for me. Overall, still a rewarding experience. 

From start to finish, it’s hard to put down or even take a break from because each bit is laser-focused and leads right into the next one. So quickly, I would find myself on the treadmill of, “well, I’ll just read one more poem,” and then it would be another one after that, and after that, and so on and so forth.

What I don’t love about this book:

As much as I enjoyed this narrative approach to poetry—it’s still poetry. So it’s a stretch for me, and I need to be in the right frame of mind to enjoy any poetry. I’m constantly battling the feeling when reading it that I just don’t get it, and it’s going over my head. 

Poetry is one of those creative forms of writing I wish I were better at writing and enjoying, but people can also hope for wings. My attempts all come off as artificial to myself. So really, these are more things I’m disappointed in myself than “Head of a Gorgon.” Ultimately, I found the experience of this book sublime, even with its darker moments. Since it slots into a section of literature I’m not all too familiar with, it’s difficult for me to grasp onto anything to critique. My experience was pretty uniform from start to finish; I was pleasantly surprised.

Author’s Website: https://raegenmp.wordpress.com/

Analysis:

While I’m sure almost everyone in the world knows who Medusa is, still knowing a bit about Greek mythology adds immeasurably to the experience of these poems. For instance, when the conversations between M and P are happening, it’s obviously helpful to know Medusa’s story to deduce who P is in this context. But less obvious is—there are a lot of references to water in these poems, and at first, that might seem confusing because Medusa isn’t the same snake-like monster as Scylla, who spent her time munching on sailors like Odysseus’s men. But, if you know Medusa’s parents and how prominently M’s parents play a role in these poems, especially at the beginning and the end—the references to water make much more sense.

I also liked the shedding skin sections—in theme and style. It’s a clever call back to earlier poems in the narrative of this collection presented through deconstruction to change the meaning of those earlier poems. It had to have taken some serious planning to execute.

Parting thoughts:

In literature, there are a lot of women who get short shrift, especially in myths. For as much as I find Greek mythology fascinating, women had few roles, and in Scylla, Circe, Medusa, and Calypsos cases—to create a short list—they are often antagonists our male heroes have to overcome. If they aren’t dutiful wives—then they’re witches, seductresses, or straight-up monsters, with no in between.

The real power of a narrative like in “Head of a Gorgon” is to take that negative persona and flip it on its ear. It wasn’t until the modern era—as far as I know—that anyone considered the qualia of what it was like to be in Medusa’s head, or any of them for that matter.

I believe that context matters—with context comes understanding and empathy. Redefining these ancient characters’ context is creative and breathes new and better life into them. I think that is the heart of what I liked the most about this book and others like it.

Talking In Obscurity, "Circe," by Madeline Miller

Or Download This Episode Here:

https://mcdn.podbean.com/mf/web/cpnvqp/Circe_Podcast_Edited8pakp.mp3

Ok, Obscurists, we're at the end of another month, so it's podcast time. For this one, Steven and I talk about "Circe" by Madeline Miller. This book is a wonderful modern reimagining of a minor character from "The Odyssey."

I am proud that at no point in this podcast did I fall back on my over-used explanation that it's like "Wicked" but with Greek Myth. Of course, I just did that here, so... clearly, I can't help myself. In any case, if you'd like to read my full review of this book, you can find it here.

This preview is an Amazon Affiliate link; 

as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Author's Website: http://madelinemiller.com/

Micro Mention "Circe"

"Circe" by Madeline Miller was the greatest book I read last year. I even wrote a full review of it here in case you missed it.

This cannot be an original observation, but it works and tugs at the heartstrings much in the same fashion as Wicked. Circe, by far, isn't one of the most celebrated goddesses of Greek Myth. Often she's referred to as a clever woman—not a compliment in ancient Greek society—and an evil sorceress who famously turns men into pigs.

Miller, much in the same spirit as Gregory Maguire in his novel, explores the why of Circe's seemingly "evil" actions. Without giving too much away, it's unsurprisingly because people are douchebags to her, and she's defending herself. This is a clever story beat because it underscores the depressingly common narrative of blaming the victim.

This preview is an Amazon Affiliate link; 

as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Author's Website: http://madelinemiller.com/

"Circe," by Madeline Miller--Fiction Review

Merry Christmas! Did I review a book relevant to the season? No, of course not! Instead, let’s talk about Madeline Miller’s “Circe,” a reimagining of Greek myth from the witch of Aiaia’s perspective.  

***The Non-Spoiler part of this review***

What I love about this book:

This was my favorite book I read all year. It’s part of the reason why I selected it for my final review this year. “A Song of Achilles” was good, but Miller blew me away with “Circe.” 

My favorite part—and this is a tiny bit of a spoiler here—are all the early scenes with the goddess Circe as a single mother. Not inherently a funny book, Miller presents the shock of raising a mortal son for a goddess as something both breathtakingly sweet and funny, because Circe who requires no food or rest to live, is still exhausted by motherhood. 

Circe, like a lot of women—even goddesses—in Greek mythology, gets a pretty bad rap. To see her image reimagined and rehabilitated by Miller in “Circe” is a really cool update. I’ve said this before, but for me, it hits all the same notes as Elphaba’s story in “Wicked.” We learn through the course of this book that Circe isn’t just some witch who turned men into pigs, and Odysseus shacked up with for a while—I mean, she is those things—but also so much more. 

What I don’t love about this book:

Circe’s family because they all range from apathetic to malevolent pricks. This is a bit of a cop-out here because I wouldn’t change a thing here with their characterizations; them being awful is what creates the contrast for us to see how Circe is different. 

Miller can be wryly funny, in that dry sort of way as underscored in Circe’s adventures in motherhood, and once I read that chapter, I thought, why isn’t every chapter like this? Ok, maybe that’d be a bad idea because this story is more of a drama about finding oneself and the nature of a life well-lived—but still, a bit more of that humorous tone could have found its way into this story. I was surprised by it because I don’t remember Miller exercising those muscles at all in “The Song of Achilles.” 

This preview is an Amazon Affiliate link; 

as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Author's Website: http://madelinemiller.com/

***The Spoiler part of this review***

***Ye be warned to turn back now***

The quick and dirty synopsis:

Circe begins her story with a brief introduction of who and what the Greek Gods are and who her parents are—the great Titan of the sun Helios and the nymph Perse. She also explains the war between the second-generation gods—the Olympic gods—and the Titans. Like Circe’s father, some of the Titans threw their lot in with Zeus in the war. In doing so, they were spared the rest of the Titans’ fate, namely, being banished to the underworld. After the war, there was distrust between the gods, and in the society of gods, the Olympics were firmly the ruling caste. That means the remaining Titans were just as solidly second class, and the tension between the groups was constant.

"The Song of Achilles," by Madeline Miller--Fiction Review

Hey, it’s June, it’s probably warm out, I don’t know I wrote all of these reviews prophetically during the last ice age some 12,000 years ago. Anyway, why don’t we talk about today’s book, “The Song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller, which is a reimagining of the Greek classic “The Iliad.” The novel is from the perspective of Patroclus, who in “The Iliad “ is Achilles’ “friend.” 

***The Non-Spoiler part of this review***

What I love about this book:

Madeline Miller might be one of the best writers I’ve ever read. Her language choice is precise in a manner that is so sharp you feel cut by it as if it were a scalpel. The prose of the story has a hypnotic quality that she uses more to paint the story rather than tell it. 

Her use of the first-person perspective is bold, but it also evokes the feeling of an oral tradition like how “The Iliad” and “The Odyssey” were originally presented in Homer’s day. This, although every translation of either of those two stories, is always done in third-person. Even “The Odyssey,” which is named after Odysseus, isn’t really from any one character’s perspective like Miller’s “The Song of Achilles.”

I also enjoy her take on the characters of this classic Greek mythos. She does justice to Odysseus, who is only a minor character in this story, but if you’ve read my “The Odyssey” review, then you know I’m ride or die with my boy Odysseus. Where Miller shines in her character work is her use of irony when developing the character of Achilles—or at least through the eyes of Patroclus, who is passionately in love with the man. So there may be some tint there.

Sidebar: Achilles and Patroclus are in an intense homoerotic relationship throughout this novel, so if that’s going to be a problem for you as a reader, then maybe bow out of this one, or I don’t know, grow up. Gay people are real people too, who have equally valid intense love affairs as heterosexuals.

Anyway, back to irony and how it applies to Achilles, the most obvious of his ironies is how we remember the Aristos Achaion—best of the Achaians as Miller stylizes him—in the contemporary idiom Achilles’ Heel. Achilles is supposed to be the mightiest, fiercest warrior, and his name evokes weakness—a specific kind of weakness sure, one that is both singular and unexpected, but still a weakness. Everyone who speaks English as a first language has used or heard the idiom Achilles’ heel, and Miller does the interesting thing and almost completely doesn’t address that aspect of him. No, the ironies she explores in this novel are more profound. Achilles, as a man, is gentle, soft-spoken, honest to a fault, and before the Trojan war, was rarely violent. In fact, he seems to respect life genuinely. The irony is he’s also the greatest killer ever.      

What I don’t love about this book:

Lots of lead time before the events of “The Iliad” in this retelling of “The Iliad.” We spend time with Patroclus as a baby. Then as a boy with a simpleton for a mother and a tyrant for a father. Further along, but still mired in Patroclus’ past, as a slightly older boy, we see him as a suitor at the gathering where Helen chooses her husband. Minor spoiler here, it’s not Patroclus as you might have guessed. Finally, there is a scene where some boy decides to take something of Patroclus,’ and a fight ensues where Patroclus stands up for himself and accidentally kills the boy. Then he gets banished from his father’s kingdom—all that has to happen first before we ever really meet Achilles, the guy the novel is named after. Then there are even more goings-on until we finally get to the bit where it picks up with the goings-on of the “The Iliad” at about halfway through the book.

My point is, “The Song of Achilles” takes a bit to get to the main action of the story. While the preceding scenes are excellent character building—for the main characters—it does also involve a lot of characters you’ll never see again once the boys head off to Troy. So you have to learn another cast of secondary characters as well in the second half of the story.   

This preview is an Amazon Affiliate link; 

as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.

Author's Website: http://madelinemiller.com/

***The Spoiler part of this review***

***Ye be warned to turn back now***