Lexlingua

There was the Illiad, now there’s the Penelopiad.

Lately, since the SFF genre is losing interest for me, I thought I would give this mythology/ history book a shot instead.

Here’s the official book blurb:

"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."

I heard the audiobook, narrated by Laural Merlington, who does a wonderful job, especially the parts where she imitates the voice of the twelve maids who were hacked off by Odysseus. These narrations could make a nice elocution piece, methinks.

I read Lavinia by Ursula Le Guin some time ago (my review here) and didn't much like it, so I expected the same kind of reaction for Penelope, the virtuous wife of an ancient, much-adored Greek hero. When I look back in context, I realize that the idea of both Lavinia and Penelopiad is to give a voice to the women of ancient Greece, a very different take from existing Greek history/ poetry, where it’s the men, the ‘heroes’, who hog all the spotlight.

I didn't know much about Odysseus himself, except that he was such a famous sea-faring, monster-killing hero in Greek mythology that first Homer wrote about him, then James Joyce decided to write the book Ulysses about him, which became quite a masterpiece. But as I hadn't read either of these tomes, I started Atwood’s book with a mindset quite free from ‘baggage’, if you know what I mean.

The Penelopiad is surprisingly easy to digest. Atwood paints a picture of ancient Greece through the voice of a dead Penelope (and her dead maids) in such an amusing light; I often burst out chuckling. Everything is packed in with such dark humour — the animal sacrifices, the oracle, the promiscuity, the gods raping the mortals, the (so-called) virtues of women (and sometimes, men), the slavery system, and do watch out for the bits about Helen of Troy. I certainly did not know or remember that Helen and Penelope were cousins, and that Odysseus wooed Helen once. Oops! I certainly need to see Troy again.

The book felt more like as if it was something written by Atwood to entertain herself — not as a professional historical work, but more along the lines of a hobby. It does not generate the kind of awe that Wolf Hall does, but maybe that’s because I’m not very familiar with such works. Maybe the best kind of historical book is a novella that’s light and cutting and to the point.

So much of Greek history is poetry written hundreds of years ago (this one being around 3,000 years) by some anonymous fellow. That can’t possibly be the reality. Sea serpents and semi-divine human beings, three-headed dogs and twelve-headed dragons, sirens and merfolk? Just like you read about ambrosia being some hallucinogenic drink created eons ago, what’s the factual truth of the fanciful Greek mythology?

The last part of the book is therefore important, because it gives an interesting interpretation of the events in The Penelopiad. You should hear Atwood’s take on the truth. I’m not aware of other versions, or if she is the first one to bring forth the idea of the Odyssey heralding a shift in the Mycenaean religious dynamics. But I do know for a fact that The Penelopiad makes a lovely and startling read.

My Rating: 7/10