Getting Real About Mythology

Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes by Edith Hamilton
Reviewed by Jason Koivu
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Edith Hamilton may have written Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes more than a half century ago and she may have been fairly ancient when she did so, but she still put out one seriously readable book!

Hamilton took from the best sources to cobble together slick summaries of all your old time myth favorites. Before giving each mythical story's highlights, she details the different writers who created a version of it and explains the qualities of the best ones. Sometimes she berates the lesser attempts and I appreciated the balance, especially since she explains her critique.

Now having said, I have to note the caveat that this is not a scholarly work. This is a summary, a boiling-down, a sugar-coating of a topic that frankly could have been presented in a much more academic, dry manner. I'm glad it wasn't. These are not cursory run-throughs. They're full of detail and color.

The main issue with a book with that title is that you expect a wide ranging survey of the topic. This, however, is almost entirely about the Greek Myths. The Roman versions are only mentioned, because the Romans stole their myths wholesale from the Greeks. Aside from that, we get a very superficial mention of the Norse myths that takes up maybe the last 5% of the book. Nothing else in all the rest of humanity is even slightly touched upon. Disappointing. But if you want an easy, fun read on the Greek stuff, this is the book for you!

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Welsh Myth Reimagined in Fantasy

The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander
Reviewed by Jason Koivu
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The Book of Three is one of those classic fantasy novels you see on "Top ___" lists and the shelves of used bookshops with a fantasy section of any redeeming value. However, it doesn't rank up there with the best of the bunch and you don't hear people raving about it. I needed to find out what was up with this little book and so I did.

It's a fun, mostly-light fantasy adventure about a headstrong boy who wants to live life, not wallow in the wake of a blacksmith or spend his days as an assistant pig keeper. He gets more than his wish in a fast-paced, action-packed journey that pits him and his new friends in a battle with the land's greatest evil.

The Book of Three is indeed fun, as well as interesting for its take on Welsh myth. It is however a little more silly than I care for these days. It treads too much on gags, like a toady's repetitive speech pattern and a bard's truth-detecting instrument that breaks a string whenever he lies. He must break nearly ten strings throughout this book and such a short book is just not long enough to sustain that kind of repetition. One last quibble, the only female figure in the book is annoying. Everything that comes out of her mouth sounds like "I told you so!" and that sucks.

Right now I'm up in the air about continuing on with the Chronicles of Prydain series, but I've wanted to read this book for as long as I can remember and I'm glad I did.

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Tolkien's Take on a Finnish Myth

The Story of Kullervo by J.R.R. Tolkien
Reviewed by Jason Koivu
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A take on a Finnish myth by J.R.R. Tolkien similar to his Silmarillion, only much shorter, narrower in vision, and a good deal more unfinished.

Since my father's side comes from Finland, my ears perk up whenever Finnish things get mentioned. It happens that infrequently. Sort of like how when I grew up in the country and only a handful of cars would drive by our house everyday, so I'd prairie dog it every dang time. Anywho, back to the review...

This edition, edited by Verlyn Flieger, goes the extra length to recoup and curate the essence of Tolkien's attempt at The Story of Kullervo. There is a helpful introduction that sets up the story nicely for the uninitiated. There are reprints of Tolkien's handwritten notes. Following the actually story, which is about 40 pages long, are nearly a hundred pages worth of plot synopses notes and essays regarding Finnish myth. There is more written about the story than the story itself. That's due diligence.

The story is fairly brutal in the good, ol' fashioned sense of the word. Like many old fairy tales, people die often and often in horrible ways. However, in keeping with tradition, Tolkien alludes to the horror rather than give you every bit of the gory details. Sometimes the alluded to scene is so fleeting you have to stop, go back, and reread. On two or three occasions I had a "wait, what?" moment.

The story is not "one for the ages", but it does have that classic and epic mythological feel to it. For story enjoyment, this gets 3 stars from me. But from a production value standpoint, I've bumped the book up a star.


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Old Myths As Familiar As An Old Shoe

Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman
Reviewed by Jason Koivu
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Odd and the Frost Giants is such a short and easy read, you'll gulp it down in an instant and be shouting to Neil Gaiman, "Next!"

This is the most childish Gaiman story I've read yet and that's saying something. But it's not saying something as negative as some might take it. Odd... is intended for the kiddies.

It's not a terrible introduction for youngsters into the realm of Norse mythology. In it, a crippled boy meets a few anthropomorphic animals who turn out to be outcast gods, who need this mortal's help in tricking their frost giant enemies so they can get back into Asgard.

Gaiman falls back on very familiar territory for this one, tapping Odin, Thor and his hammer, and the crafty conniver Loki in his usual role of mischief-maker. There is very little new or inventive stuff going on here in this mini adventure. It reads like a tv producer who's taken a classic episode of a popular show, rearranged the scenes a little, and presented it for your viewing pleasure.

And it is a pleasure! It just feels all too familiar.

This Will Teach You Not To Offend the Gods

The Golden Ass

Original Title: Metamorphoses – Asinus Aureus

by Apuleius

Translator: Robert Graves

Review by Zorena

Five Stars

Summary

The story of The Golden Ass is that of Lucius Apuleius, a young man of good birth who encountered many strange adventures while disporting himself along the roads to Thessaly. Not the least of these occurred when Apuleius offended a priestess of the White Goddess, who turned him into an ass. The tale of how Apuleius dealt with this misfortune and eventually resumed human form is conveyed by Robert Graves in modern English.

My Review

I'll admit it. I like Robert Graves historical fictions and translations. I think it's because he manages to keep any humour found in them rather then make them just dry translations.

If you have no sense of the absurd this book is not for you. Go read the Iliad. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy the Iliad. I did! I'm just saying this is not your average ancient literature. This book is stuffed with more violence and sex then most summer movies but it's done in such a way as to not glorify either.

The unstructured telling of various tales woven into a grander story works remarkably well. I already knew the story of Cupid and Psyche but I enjoyed it as part of a larger scheme.

I'll also admit it could have perhaps ended better but I can see why it did. Most occurrences were attributed to the gods and goddesses then. They seemed to have a hand in everything from birth till death. The Greek and Roman worship of Isis was far different then the Egyptian's and I think the choice of those deities suited this story. So the five stars stand.

The Best Almost-Folk Tale You've Never Read

Bridge of Birds: A Novel of an Ancient China That Never Was

BARRY HUGHART

Del Rey, 1985

Reviewed by Carol

Recommended for fans of The Princess Bride, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

 

“Nothing on the face of this earth–and I do mean nothing–is half so dangerous as a children’s story that happens to be real, and you and I are wandering blindfolded through a myth devised by a maniac.”

Bridge of Birds opens on a pastoral setting, a remote unicorn-shaped village in the peaceful valley of Cho in ancient China. Narrated by Yu Lu, also known as Number Ten Ox (the tenth of his father’s sons and as strong as an ox), it begins with a promising silk season coming to an abrupt end. A plague strikes the village’s youth and at the same time decimates the silk harvest. Number Ten Ox volunteers to run to Peking to bring a wise man back to the village. Unfortunately, all of the cosmopolitan wise men laugh at Ox and his mere five thousand copper, all except a hung-over Master Li. “Could this be the great Li Kao… who had been elevated to the highest rank of mandarin, and whose mighty head was now being used as a pillow for drunken flies?”  After a brief restorative, Master Li takes pity on Ox’s plight and determines they need to make haste back to the village. Poor Number Ten Ox. He has never met the likes of Master Li, former first place scholar among all the scholars in China (a mere seventy-eight years ago). But he has a slight flaw in his character.

“The abbot paused to consider his words…’You are a good boy, and I would not like to meet the man who can surpass you in physical strength, but you know very little about this wicked world,’ the abbot said slowly. ‘To tell you the truth, I am not so worried about the damage to your body as I am about the damage to your soul. You see, you know nothing whatsoever about men like Master Li… His voice trailed off, and he groped for the proper words. Then he decided that it would take several years to prepare me properly.”

What follows is along the lines of traditional folk tales and orphan adventures; the quest to save the children of the village, Ox as the innocent youth and Li as the wise man/guide–except Master Li’s wisdom often comes from knowing the wicked ways of human nature and his own participation in debauchery. He also seems to have read all the great tales, as his solutions sound suspiciously familiar. One of the first chapters is how Master Li tricks a rich miser out of enough gold to finance their trip (and gets Ox a night with the young concubine to boot). Their third or fourth adventure is an exceptional revenge on a selfish princess, and another one a bloody mess. Hughart is able to manage the delicate balance humorous violence requires, perhaps by invoking our earliest folk tales, such as the one where Bluebeard keeps bodies in a locked room, or the version of Little Red where the huntsman hacks open the wolf to free her and grandma. Horrific, but so clearly symbolic, so clearly not real.

Their adventures take them throughout China, and from one frying pan to another. There’s ghosts, dungeons, a tricksy duo, an evil duke, a labyrinth, an enormously rich man, a tower, treasure, fond friends, a torture chamber, redemption, gods (and there’s even a little kissing). If it lacks the R.O.U.S., it makes up for it with an invisible hand.

“The supernatural can be very annoying until one finds the key that transforms it into science,’ he observed mildly. ‘I’m probably imagining complications that don’t exist. Come on, Ox, let’s go out and get killed.’”

Writing is lovely and contains a satisfactory balance of description and action. Gentle humor abounds. There’s a motif where Li and Ox are certain they are going to die and share hopes of what they will be reborn as on the Great Wheel. Li prefers the three-toed-sloth, Ox a cloud. Later, a third company member adds another angle to their bucolic reincarnation. But Master Li is clearly the cynic of the bunch, and his comments usually provide comic relief:

“‘Well, it’s an idea, and even a bad idea is better than none,’ said Master Li. ‘Error can point the way to truth, while empty-headedness can only lead to more empty-headedness or to a career in politics.’”

It’s silly, sweet, subversive and really clever. Ox’s youthful innocence is charming and believable, and while Master Li knows much, he is clearly puzzling his way through the quest as well. The end was a lovely synthesis, satisfying both emotionally and in plotting, both immediate and symbolic. Barry Hughart clearly has a flaw in his character. The world needs more Master Li.

“‘O great and might Master Li, pray impart to me the Secret of Wisdom!’ he bawled… To my great credit I never batted an eyelash. ‘Take a large bowl,’ I said. ‘Fill it with equal measure of fact, fantasy, history, mythology, science, superstition, logic, and lunacy. Darken the mixture with bitter tears, brighten it with howls of laughter, toss in three thousand years of civilization, bellow kan pei–which means ‘dry cup’–and drink to the dregs.’ Procopius stared at me. ‘And I will be wise,’ he asked. ‘Better,’ I said. ‘You will be Chinese.’”

No God Can Shun His Destiny--Even If It Means Wearing Hollister

Antigoddess
by Kendare Blake
Published by Tor Teen

3 Out of 5 Stars
Reviewed by Amanda 

**I received a free copy of Antigoddess from Tor in exchange for an honest review.**

After centuries, the Twilight of the Gods has arrived.

Already fallen from Olympus, now more mortal than god, each deity is dying in a manner peculiar to their power. Athena, goddess of battle and intelligence, is being slowly suffocated by the feathers of her sacred bird, the owl. The feathers fill her lungs and sprout beneath her skin. While many of the gods are resigned to their demise and see their end as a final whim of Fate, Athena, along with the swift Hermes (who is being consumed by his own rapid metabolism), seeks the counsel of Demeter and finds that a war is brewing. Led by Hera, some gods are determined to survive--even if it means slaughtering their own kind. Their only hope? A teenage girl named Cassandra--no mere mortal, but the reincarnation of Cassandra of Troy, prophet, sister of Hector, and love of Apollo.

The first in a trilogy, Antigoddess (and let's just go ahead and get this out there--this is a baffling and terrible name for the book) is an entertaining, if uneven novel that is the latest offering in the young-adult-if-only-we-were-supernatural genre.

There's a lot here we've seen before: the co-dependent mortal/immortal love affair (it's always baffling to me when immortal creatures fall in love with nubile young teenagers; one would think the passing of centuries would make a relationship with anyone susceptible to Bieber-fever a tedious proposition at best), the requisite showdown at a house party, and the battle lines drawn between two supernatural armies whose collective fate rests on the shoulders of a human who is more than she appears to be. And while I know it will not bother the target audience, to have the gods appear as young adults is problematic to me. No explanation is given as to why they seem to be perpetually stuck in the Proactiv Skin Care years. In my imagination, Athena (my favorite goddess) has always loomed like an Amazon, tall, strong, mature. To think of her with tattooed wrists and purple streaks in her hair? Hermes sporting Hollister? Apollo in a hoodie? By Hades's balls, I'd rather French kiss Cerberus than think of the majesty of gods reduced to trendy mall fashion.

Buuuuttttt . . . having said all that, there's an undeniable charm to what Blake's peddling here and it's far more successful than the Percy Jackson series. Sure, the gods lack characterization, but haven't they always? And, sure, they sometimes behave like mortals, but that's always been part of their appeal. Treading like giants and with powers beyond human comprehension, they still fell prey to very human weaknesses: love, hubris, envy. Blake also knows her stuff and it's fun to see her weave the tale of Troy into a modern day setting as Hector, Andromache, Odysseus, and Circe's coven make appearances alongside Hera, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, and Apollo. Throw in a cyclops, a Nereid or two, and an author with a sharp sense of humor--well, you could find worse ways to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Kickin' Ass and Takin' Names

Badass:  The Birth of a Legend

by Ben Thompson

Published by Harper Perennial

Reviewed by Amanda
3 Out of 5 Stars

Behold!  Herein is contained a collection of history and pop culture's most notorious badasses.  These guys and gals kick ass, take names, never give a crap, and spend their days punching humanity in the nutsack just because they can.  They believe that, if you're looking for sympathy, it's in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.  There's no challenge they won't accept, no life they will spare, no vengeance they won't seek, no maiden they won't fondle!  Why?  They all suffer from the totally sweet fever known as badassitude.  And, as we all know, there's no cure for badassitude and, even if there were, who would want it?

Yeah, was all that a little too much for you?  Well, it was for me, too.  I will readily admit that I am indeed juvenile enough to have found the cover amusing, as well as sentences like this one describing the Egyptian gods: "As an added triple-shot of one hundred-proof badassitude, almost all of these bitchin' all-powerful smite-masters were represented by human bodies with insane animal heads grafted on top, making them so King Kong mega-weird-looking that it's like riding a surfboard of insanity down the Uncanny Valley."  However, 300+ pages of this became tedious--so much so that I had to reduce my reading to a chapter or two between other books. 

It wasn't long before every chapter began to sound as though a potty-mouthed version of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' Michelangelo was "Cowabunga"-ing his way through the narrative.
However, there were some bright spots:

1)  The variety of cultures and time periods represented is impressive.  We have everything from Viking, Aztec, Greek, Egyptian, Vodoun, Anglo-Saxon, to various African mythologies represented, as well as more modern cultural icons.  (Any book where Skeletor and Darth Vader are rubbing shoulders is automatically worth 3 stars.)

2)  Hell, yes for the women represented in the book!  Kali, Oya, Atalanta, Bradamant of Clairmont, Skuld, The White Tights (it's worth reading this chapter alone), The Furies, Baba Yaga, and, my personal favorite, Medea, are all here, proving you don't have to have *ahem* a sword *ahem* to be a badass.

3)  This is the type of book that I could definitely see turning around a boy who is a struggling reader.  It's fun, opens up a variety of mythologies for further research, and uses a language all teenage boys understand.  Sure, you could get your panties in a twist because words like balls, douche, badass, scrotum, and several juvenile sexual references are made, but if you think teenage boys aren't already using that language then you are not a badass.  You're a dumbass.  And I'm of the opinion that if it takes pandering to the lowest common denominator to hook a kid on reading, it's well worth it.

Despite the fact that the "badass" conceit wears pretty thin, this is a moderately entertaining and very well-researched read.  I can honestly say that I learned a few things from it, added a few books for further reading to my "to read" list, and now have the line "He gets more ass than a public toilet seat" in my arsenal.  It was well worth the read.

How the Mighty Have Fallen

Olympic Games

by Leslie What

Published by Tachyon Publications

1 Out of 5 Stars
Reviewed by Amanda

There seems to be a literary trend of late that involves taking the gods of ancient times and throwing them into a modern day setting.  These once powerful deities have been forgotten and struggle to adjust to the mundane day-to-day existence afforded them in an increasingly secular world with little time for or interest in religion. As an early devotee of Edith Hamilton, one might assume that these have been heady times for me.  Unfortunately, this genre has been kind of a mixed bag.  There's been the good (Neil Gaiman's American Gods and some of Piers Anthony's older Incarnations of Immortality series) and the meh (Rick Riordan's The Lightning Thief and Marie Phillips' Gods Behaving Badly).  And now we have the bad--Olympic Games. 

This is a book that I wanted to love, but it fell short for me.  To begin with, there is one fundamental problem with writing about the gods:  in the original myths, they're two dimensional characters who only exist to either cause or react to events.  Because the gods primarily existed to explain natural forces, they were devoid of personality beyond what was necessary to explain their component in the natural world.  That's fine for reading brief myths presented in summary format or stories where the gods appear occasionally to help or hinder a beleaguered hero.  It's an entirely different matter when they become the focal point of a full length novel.  In fact, Olympic Games began as a short story entitled The Goddess is Alive and, Well, Living in New York City.  I would like to find What's original short story as I have a feeling it would be a more successful read for me.  As it stands, the gods in Olympic Games remain two dimensional, which may be traditionally accurate but makes for tedious reading.  I did not care about any of the characters--not even the humans, who themselves remain two dimensional.

The story focuses on Zeus and Hera.  In my opinion, these are the two least interesting gods.  Zeus just tossed around the occasional lightning bolt in between bouts of screwing anything with two--or four--legs and a heartbeat; Hera seemingly only existed to bitch about it.  So guess what they're doing in present day?  Zeus is philandering and Hera is chasing after him.  There's little new here.  They occasionally encounter difficulties with modern day life, but only to inconsequential and humorless effect.  Their powers are used primarily to beguile humans into doing their bidding and, in Hera's case, to constantly change her hair color, her body shape, her sandals, her wardrobe, etc. (a joke that tires very quickly as that ability is possessed by most mortal women and does not a goddess make).  There's nary another god in sight as, during the last 1/4 of the novel, it's explained that the others succumbed to ennui (an explanation that should have been provided earlier to give context as to why the other gods are inexplicably MIA).  This is a shame as the lackluster narrative involving Zeus and Hera could have been spiced up with the appearance of Athena, Poseidon, Ares, Aphrodite, or just the occasional demigod. 

The novel is billed as a screwball absurdist romp, a la Christopher Moore, but there's little in the way of humor here.  Sure, there's plenty of absurdity, but it's not particularly funny.  There are some clunky and obvious one-liners.  If nothing else, the novel made me wish that Christopher Moore would try his hand at this gods-in-the-modern-world genre.  If you’re interested in mythology based literature, I would recommend any of the novels previously mentioned in this review or, hey, kick it old school and get a copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology or revisit Medea, Antigone, Oedipus Rex, The Illiad, or The Odyssey.  I think you would find any of them a more rewarding experience.