I’ve read a number of retellings of Greek myths and usually enjoy them so I picked up this book about the infamous monster who turned men into stone with a mere glance. This version is a sympathetic retelling with definite feminist overtones.

The novel is structured as an extended monologue by Medusa from the Underworld. She tells her own story and shows that there is more to her than the things she has been called: “Seductress. Liar. Monster. Killer.” She shows how she was an abandoned child, a priestess, a rape victim, a survivor, and a mother. She proves that she is not the villain, “But history is written by the winners. Or, more simply, history is written by men.”

The villains are the gods. Poseidon rapes Medusa, and then Athena punishes the victim because Athena’s temple was desecrated. Though Athena is told about the rape and Medusa’s powerlessness to prevent it, Athena ignores Poseidon’s guilt and transforms Medusa and her sisters into monsters. Though Medusa dedicated herself to Athena’s service and prayed to her often, Athena never answered her prayers. She appears only when she feels she has been disrespected and her temple defiled. Medusa comes to see the gods as self-centred with no real concern for human beings. Even Perseus is Athena’s puppet who must do as she wishes or she will take vengeance against him.

Medusa emerges as a complex character who has normal emotions and dreams. She suffers pain and makes sacrifices, but is also flawed. She acknowledges her evil deeds (turning men to stone), explaining her rationale: “The real Gods were untouchable . . . So I funneled my bitter hatred through acts I deemed as justice, using my curse to protect women from ever having to endure what I went through. . . . I told myself I was righting the wrongs the Gods never would.” Later she thinks that “I was not trying to destroy men; I was trying to obliterate all memories of that helpless, beautiful, weak Medusa. If I could make the world my victim, then perhaps I could forget what it had felt like to be one.” She wants her audience to remember that “most monsters are made, not born. Perhaps you should remember that next time you encounter one.” She has regrets: “there is one victim who has haunted me since the day I took his life and I believe he will continue to for the rest of my eternity.” Though she is also honest and admits that she was intoxicated with her power and does not regret “most of my actions.”

The writing style is conversational. Medusa speaks in a straightforward manner in modern English. She decides she no longer wants to be the silent victim: “a part of me has been inspired by modern-day voices, those voices that are shaking the very foundations their injustices have been built upon.” Certainly the modern world will find her much of her story relatable: the blaming and shaming and silencing of victims continue: “I was not the first woman to be blamed for a man’s flaws and I certainly will not be the last.”

I enjoyed the book, but I must admit to wanting more. Having read Circe by Madeline Miller (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2018/09/review-of-circe-by-madeline-miller.html)
and The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com/2018/12/review-of-silence-of-girls-by-pat-barker.html), I was hoping for more depth. I think there’s more potential in Medusa’s story, but this retelling is a good beginning. ( )

TW: Rape

This is a poignant, powerful reimagining of Medusa's story, and I loved it. The story draws parallels to the novel Circe, in that Circe was portrayed as being evil-A witch, who turned people into animals and killed her husband-but we saw another side to her in Madeline Miller's reimagining.

Medusa tells us her tale from the Underworld, unblemished by a male narrative. (Straight from the source, so to speak). From her birth amongst the waves to her death, we hear her story almost as though through her cycle of grief. We are with her in her trauma, then through her denial, guilt and anger. Later we see her at the height of loneliness, only to come through that phase, into acceptance and hope.

The book is especially poignant in the wake of the Me Too movement. Much like in Yanagihara's A Little Life, the author has not shied away from writing about rape. As I wrote in my review of the aforementioned; "...This book portrays a very real life story of abuse.
To use a poor analogy, My son often covers his eyes and believes that, because he can’t see me, I can’t see him.... Just because we shut our eyes to abuse and find it difficult to read/hear about, does that mean it’s not happening in the world? No."
The author made us aware of the other things that were stolen from Medusa as a result of her rape. It was not just her virginity and her right to say no that he took from her. He stole her favourite time of the day, "...morning...as the world slowly began to wake up around me." He stole her future happiness, "Misery felt [safe]…There are no expectations when you're sad." It was realistic in way he groomed her, saying her mother was "A fool if she is disappointed by you," in much the same way rapists groom vulnerable victims.
I also thought it poignant when we were told that she was, "not the first woman to be blamed for a man's flaws," and certainly would not be the last. It was very reminiscent of other women's stories, in which they have been told that they were the "seducer," or that they were "in love." Medusa dedicated her life to Athena, yet Athena victim shamed her. When Medusa tells of the gods current situation and says, "they are nobodies now. They are nothing. You hear that Athena? You are nothing." I got honest-to-god goosebumps!!!

I loved Medusa's character. To quote the book's cover;
"Gorgon. Killer. Monster.
Victim. Survivor. Protector."
Medusa is the epitome of a morally grey character! I was extremely amused by the modern touches the author gave her, such as referring to Hermes as a "Little prick." And telling the fates, "If you're listening," 'screw you.' It made her more human and relatable.

I also thought the gods characters were portrayed fantastically. It made me laugh that the gods would say, "Enough of that child," (Poseidon) and, "Oh, none of that," (Hermes) when Medusa scraped and bowed for them. Yet Poseidon levelled an entire city because they had a temple to Athena and not he. It was very reminiscent of all I have ever learnt of the gods!

The family aspect to this book was also incredible. There was a real sense of psychology, almost an argument for 'nature vs. nurture.' Medusa wanted to be evil in order to earn her mother's respect. Do we all not revere our parents reverence?
The dynamic between the sisters was also realistic, and telling of a lack of a parental bond. Medusa's first thought upon being transformed into a 'monster,' was that she finally looked like her siblings. Similarly, her sisters mused that "now we all finally fit in the family, eh?"

I loved her friendship with Perseus - The ultimate irony being that he, as the one who didn't want to kill her, had to be the one to kill her. I was just so glad that she had a friend. I thought it sad (and very illuminating) that the author had to add, "before you even ask, I will tell you that I was not falling in love with Perseus." Medusa was a lonely, heavily pregnant woman who just needed somebody. I feel he was pivotal to her healing process.

Yet another great debate this book brought to mind was that of vigilante justice. Medusa and her sisters actively sought out women being attacked in this reimagining, yet innocents got caught in the 'crossfire.'

Finally, (Yes, I'm nearly there, don't quit now) I loved Medusa as a mother. Having two children of my own, I felt an affinity with Medusa. She knew she was going to die, but she was ok with it, so long as her son got to live (Despite him being Poseidon's child-biologically- too). Is that not all we, as mothers, want? For our children to be healthy and happy? I cried like a baby myself when she went, alone, to give birth and we were left with these words:

"Great Medusa.
Powerful Medusa.
You can do this.
We believe in you."


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