I’m not the first to say that, even though I could hardly remember the episode of the twelve maids’ hanging in Penelope’s myth, after reading Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad I will never forget it again. As you probably know, this novella was written as part of an ambitious and interesting project called “Canongate Myth Series” and started by the Scottish publishing house Canongate Books, which challenged over a hundred authors to rewrite universal myths. It is said that the first choice of the author was a Norse legend, followed by a Native American one, but in the end she remembered the twelve maids from Odyssey and decided to make them speak for themselves, together with Penelope, as she states in the Introduction:I’ve chosen to give the telling of the story to Penelope and to the twelve hanged maids. The maids form a chanting and singing Chorus which focuses on two questions that must pose themselves after any close reading of The Odyssey: what led to the hanging of the maids, and what was Penelope really up to? The story as told in The Odyssey doesn’t hold water: there are too many inconsistencies. I’ve always been haunted by the hanged maids; and, in The Penelopiad, so is Penelope herself.Like in the antique tragedies, the book will alternate Penelope’s voice with those of the maids in the form of a chorus, but not quite with the same function: even though the chorus reveals indeed sometimes, as it is supposed to do, secrets and fears of the main characters, it comments upon their actions and it even denounces them as liars (it makes us doubt, for example, Penelope’s fidelity), it is not a simple bystander but a collective character with a role in action almost as important as the heroine’s – a sort of supporting character, if you like. Moreover, while Penelope recites her story in the same naïve, slightly monotonous narrative, the Chorus changes its voice at every entrance, mimicking several genres of each style, epic, lyric and dramatic, in a burlesque attempt to steal the footlights from Penelope: its first entrance, for example, in the skipping-rhyme style used by children in their songs seems to anticipate both Penelope’s and the maids childhood, but it is followed by a lament that mourns the differences between them. In the same way, when Penelope doubts the truth of her husbands’ adventures, the Chorus sings a sea-shanty that proves true every one of them. Further on, Penelope’s nightmares are responded with ballads about freedom dreams, and her denials of adultery with a parody-like drama called The Perils of Penelope (maybe an impish allusion to an animated television series from 1969, The Perils of Penelope Pitstop).At the end of the book, after assuming the Erinyes role by haunting Odysseus even in Hades, and disturbing Penelope’s peace of mind by driving away her husband, the twelve maids change into twelve owls that take off, letting behind only a iambic-dimeter echo to be reminded by:and now we followyou, we find younow, we callto you to youtoo wit too wootoo wit too wootoo wooThe Maid sprout feathers, and fly away as owls.The owl symbolism sends not only to Greek mythology – as wise Athena’s sacred bird, or to Egyptian culture – as the guardianship of the underworlds, and a protection of the dead, but also to the Native Americans beliefs – as a keeper of sacred knowledge and a helper of the oracles.Some critics failed to see the importance of the Chorus in the text, considering it unnecessary or even inopportune. On the contrary I found it on one hand a nice counterbalance in the text economy, with its tone variations and its mischievous comments, and on the other hand a witty reinterpretation of the reflector-character via the ancient tragedy. In the chapter “An Anthropology Lecture”, considered by Mary Beard (or so Wikipedia says) a “complete rubbish”, it is implied that the murder of the twelve maids was part of an ancient ritual, implying Artemis and her twelve moon-maidens:The thirteen was our High Priestess, the incarnation of Artemis herself. She was none other than – yes! Queen Penelope!This idea (which Margaret Atwood confessed in her final notes that was inspired by a theory of Robert Graves exposed in his book The Greek Myths) gives way to another, even more beautiful: Penelope, far from being a separate character, is one of their own, the coryphaeus, merging thus the destiny of the main hero with the destiny of the Chorus’ leader, to confuse once again roles, actors and other narrative tools in a postmodernist way so subtle that remains almost unobserved. And with this key in hand you can revise once again the story and gather all her roles: main character narrator that builds herself a voice, a past and a destiny to exceed the symbolism to which her figure was reduced by the male story-tellers (“Now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my turn to do a little story-making. I owe it to myself.”); metafictional narrator that reinterprets the Odyssey (“Odysseus had been in a fight with a giant one-eyed Cyclops, said some; not, it was only a one-eyed tavern keeper, said another, and the fight was over non-payment of the bill”); reflector-character that changes voices to widen perspective (“Penelope: (…) It wasn’t the fact of their being raped that told against them, in the mind of Odysseus. It’s that they were raped without permission”); unreliable narrator that desecrates the myth not only by transforming it in the “low art” of tale-telling but also by casting a shadow of suspicion over the heroes and the events (“The two of us were – by our own admission – proficient and shameless liars of long standing. It’s a wonder either one of us believed a word the other said.”) and so on, and so forth.It is obvious that, far from being “a riff on a better story that comes dangerously close to being a spoof", as reproached by Caroline Alexander in her New York Times review, The Penelopiad challenges the reader in the same way Margaret Atwood’s books have accustomed us with, expanding our view of mythology while encouraging our own interpretation of it. Of course, leading us on a little, but what author does not?
The Penelopiad or The Ballad of the Dead MaidsThis has been my introduction to Atwood and I have to admit that I feel slightly underwhelmed. I went in with high expectations, wondering how Atwood will take the 'waiting widow' of The Odyssey and transform it into a full length novel. Turns out that she mostly indulges in recapitulating the bulk of the original with a few wild theories and speculations thrown in as supposed rumors that Penelope has gleaned in the after-life.Which brings me to how the story is constructed and this happens to be the high water mark for this novel. Atwood starts with Penelope addressing us from the other side of River Styx, reaching us through the mysterious sounds of the night and the barks and hoots of unseen animals. Penelope has grown bold since her death and is no longer the meek woman we saw in the original but a bold one who doesn't mind speaking her mind and spilling a few uncomfortable beans.Penelope subjects all the popular characters of the odyssey to scrutiny but reserves a special attention for Odysseus, Telemachus and Helen. She convinces us with case-by-case analysis that Odysseus was no hero - he was a lying and conniving manipulator of men who never uttered one truthful word in his life. She talks of rumors that told her of what his real adventures were, stripped of the trappings of myth. Telemachus becomes a petulant teenager full of rebellion against his mother and Helen becomes the ultimate shrew, seductress and a femme fatale of sorts.But the story that Atwood really wants to tell is not of Penelope, that story is hardly changed except to assert speculations on the original text whether Penelope really saw through Odysseus disguise or not. What if she did? It hardly changed the story.The real twist, and the only reason to take up this book is to see Atwood's exploration and reinvention of the twelve maids who were killed by Odysseus in punishment for betraying him by sleeping with the suitors. These twelve girls are the Chorus in this book and appear every now and then playing a baroque accompaniment to the text and giving us new perspectives on their story. This carries on until Penelope herself reveals to us that they were never betraying Odysseus, she had asked them herself to get acquainted with the suitors to get obtain information for her. They had never betrayed Odysseus or his kingdom. So their murder was just that - murder. This was Atwood's plot twist and her intended question was about the morality of this 'honor killing' as she calls the hanging of the slaves, which, she confesses in the foreword, used to haunt her when she was young - 'Why were they killed?', she used to ask herself and tries to present their case in this modernized version (which even includes a 23rd century trial of Odysseus).In the end though, the reader hardly gets anything beyond these idle speculations and supplemental myths and small factoids like how Helen was really Penelope's cousin and that they have to eat flowers in Hades. Even the main point of the book, about the dead maids, too ignores the fact that Odysseus genuinely seems to believe that they betrayed him by helping the suitors in various ways and hence it becomes as question of misinformation than morality and the blame will fall back on the shoulders of Penelope herself, rendering this whole exercise moot. Just go read the original again; the short hops of imagination that Atwood has taken in this retelling can easily be overtaken by the leaps you might make yourself in a re-reading that you might treat yourself to on a leisurely sunday afternoon - and those will surely be more impressive as well as intellectually more rewarding.
What do You think about The Penelopiad (2005)?
Voto: 4.5 stelle "Ora che sono morta so tutto". Così comincia questo breve romanzo in cui Margareth Atwood riscrive magistralmente il mito del ritorno di Odisseo nella sua Itaca. A parlare, però, questa volta è una voce femminile, Penelope, che finalmente libera dal timore di una punizione divina, può raccontare la sua storia e la sua verità e affrancarsi da quell'iconografia che da millenni la ritrae solo come moglie fedele e madre devota. Penelope ci racconta tutta la sua vita: dalle origini, l'infanzia segnata da un padre violento e una madre inconsistente come l'acqua, all'adolescenza caratterizzata dalla rivalità con l'affascinante e spudorata cugina Elena, al matrimonio e ai primi anni ad Itaca con la nascita di Telemaco, fino alla dura sopravvivenza durante l'invasione dei Proci. Ad alternare questo bellissimo monologo, l'autrice mette in scena altre voci femminili, che incarnano il Coro delle 12 ancelle che furono per la regina di Itaca le più fedeli alleate durante gli anni bui, ma che Odisseo giustiziò senza pietà al suo ritorno in patria, accusandole di tradimento, e alla cui morte Penelope stessa non si oppose, portando per sempre con sé il rimorso nel regno degli Inferi. La scelta del Coro rimanda ai canoni della tragedia classica e ne tramanda tutta la drammaticità.E così il mito si riempie di vita nuova e offre spunti di riflessione e nuove profonde introspezioni psicologiche. Pur nella sua condizione di senzaossa, senzalabbra, senzapetto, Penelope canta la sua storia e il suo canto risuona più vivo che mai. Bellissimo. Ecco la citazione che mi ha fatto ricercare questo libro e che annovero tra le mie preferite in assoluto: “Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.”
—Anna [Floanne]
Penelope gets the shaft. Come to think of it so does Clymmenstra. Let’s get that clear before we go any further.Homer was on to something when the he composed the most famous of all ancient works in the forms of the Iliad and the Odyssey. I doubt he even knew how long the story would last and how often his name would be invoked in despair by students the world over. Today, Troy and its related matter appear in a variety of forms from movies, video games, to various books.This fame of the story has allowed various writers, starting way back when, to add on to or revise parts of the story. No, Helen wasn’t in Troy; she was in Egypt, and so on. Apparently Helen and Achilles got together after they died. Go figure.Who seems to be left out of most revisions, or pushed to the sidelines are Penelope and Clymmenstra. This is even true in the modern where one would think the advent of feminist would allow for redemption of Clymmenstra, who after all, sought to avenge herself on the husband who had murdered her eldest daughter. Murdered the girl after telling his wife and daughter, that she would be married to the great Achilles. It’s a worse switcheroo than what More did to his second wife. Nope, Clymmenstra gets the shaft.Penelope, too, gets the shaft. True, while she has her trials and tribulations, they aren’t as shocking or tragic as Clymmenstra. But she was, for all purposes, a single mum, left behind for twenty years while her husband fought, sexed, and sailed his way across the Greek world. Penelope was patient Griselda, while Odysseus was a playa. Does anyone really think she was down with that?Helen, on the contrary, gets all the attention. The woman, whose irresponsible behavior started a war and ruined not only a city but thousands of lives, gets excused. It wasn’t her. It was true love. It was all Aphrodite’s fault. Nope, it was Menelaus because he was an old, ugly, bastard. Of course, it wasn’t like Paris was completely free either. But none of it is Helen’s fault who unlike her sister and cousin abandoned her child.Don’t we usually get upset when women do that? Beauty is a perfect excuse isn’t it? Helen, for me, will always be that actress in the version of the The Trojan Women starring Katherine Hepburn. Doesn’t say a word, just disrobes, gets husband number one back, while the other women are enslaved, killed, raped, and can’t bury their dead.Clymmenstra’s fault, besides her lack of beauty, is her rage. Penelope’s, her cunning. Such women are not to be celebrated. This is true even today. Look at the different between quirky man doctors and detectives, and their female counterparts.See, what I mean.It’s lucky for us that we have Margaret Atwood for she takes the character of Penelope and her maids for the center of her novel, The Penelopiad.Atwood draws on more material than just Homer. She makes use of the notes in Robert Graves’ work, and makes use of the Greek Chorus. What we get is a story where the home life is front and center, and the wanderer, the usual; star is kept offstage for as long as possible, which is rather easy.The Penelope that Atwood presents may or may not be a faithful wife. We don’t know. Does she? Who knows? The Penelope that Atwood presents does her best in a male dominated and controlled world. Separated from her home and then left to raise her son, she must later struggle with a teenage who could use a good hiding as well as suitors who supposedly love her beauty but eat her out of house and home. Her maids have it worse. After all, how important are they? They are women and aren’t even noble. Then they get punished by their master. By a man who took part in the sack of city and who surely most know the fate of women at the hands of the more powerful. Penelope is more like one of her cousins than she thought. She should have taken a lover and murdered her husband in the bath. Come back after years of affairs with goddesses and nymphs? Take that you bastard! I rule now!But Penelope is water, so that isn’t her way. Her cunning also never gets as much notice as that as her husband. Perhaps because her battle is a domestic one. But that bit with the shroud, what man would have thought of it?By giving Penelope and the maids a voice, Atwood inserts a needed piece into the picture of Troy and the Odyssey. She adds another narrative thread, and hopefully, her work will be remembered as long as Homer’s.
—Chris
This slight book is a pleasure. I learned of it through TwitterLit, which sends out the first sentence of books. The first sentence of this one--"Now that I'm dead I know everything."--is contradicted in the next sentence and throughout the book. What we know of Odysseus from Homer is not contradicted but questioned as Penelope recounts her story. And, since she says that both she and Odysseus are "proficient and shameless liars," we are clearly meant to question what we are told. In the end, one may know the facts but that is not knowledge. Atwood gives Penelope a contemporary voice, but everything she says in thoroughly informed by Homer and, especially, Robert Graves's interpretation of Greek mythology. The structure is interesting as well: the prose of Penelope's tale alternates with the verse of the chorus, the twelve maids hanged at the end of the 'Odyssey'. There are also a couple of prose interludes that offer--in a mocking tone--contemporary views of the events and characters. Atwood's gift is to be able to create a living character in very few pages. This book is very short, but anything more would have been too much.
—Sharon
