Medea

BY EILISH QUIN

Medea really spoke to me. I knew of her ancient Greek monologue and the female pain she represented. Even in my Greek mythology courses at university, she was referred to as one of the most evil women in literature. But, Eilish Quin beautifully spells out how it’s not as simple as most things are. Medea was many things, a woman, a witch, a wife, a loving mother, a loving sibling, an exile, a murderer, and a necromancer. We are all full of complicated and contradicting categories. Some people believe that no human is genuinely kind or evil, and while I think some are, Medea shows us how blurry it can really be.

I love me a Greek myth adaptation, especially a feminist adaptation of the women so briefly mentioned in history. This book is one of many on my quest to read all the upcoming adaptations. From Circe to Ariadne, Elektra, and Atalanta, I was interested in reading about Medea. Still, she wasn’t high on my list. Why? Because I usually have a stronger pull to goddesses or those at least semi-divine. I can easily lose myself in stories about goddesses because they aren’t like us and don’t have to be. When I read a story about a goddess, I can put it down and think about the beauty of the magic and how I was transported into another world for a while. I can pretend to be the protagonist and bask in their otherworldly powers. It’s entirely different for the stories of mortals like Ariadne and Medea. These stories are powerful in an alternate way. They are heavy, authentic, and deep; they portray the struggles we endure in our minds that no one else can hear. When I put down a book about a mortal, even from Greek mythology, I remain with them for the rest of the day. I can see myself in their behaviour and vice versa. It’s not as easy to separate myself from their world because we feel the same things. I see myself in Medea and Medea in me.

The book first spends a while detailing Medea’s intense childhood, and the last third of the book rapidly delves into her infamous actions. I think this was a fabulous choice by the author because it instills the sense of boredom and waiting throughout her childhood that seems to stretch on forever with no avail. Then, Jason arrives, and everything happens so fast. Medea transforms from an outcast sibling with seemingly nothing good to her name but her secret witchcraft to a murderer, necromancer, exile, wife, and mother within what feels like a span of a few pages. In my opinion, the author contrasts these two parts of her life very well by organizing the story in this way. I also really enjoyed how the author portrayed Medea’s mental turmoil, especially when believing she cannot love nor be a mother and feels as if she cannot do normal human things such as that, feel. My favourite part of this book was the inclusion of necromancy; I didn’t see it coming! Did you? What a fantastic idea. I don’t know if it had been connected to her previously, but I was blown away. I loved the contrast between the descriptions of the beautifully decorated castle she lived in and the glittering goddesses that revealed themselves to her. Compared to the raw and gory truth of Medea’s life stemming from her time practicing necromancy in the cellars, chopping up innocent animals in attempt to save her brother from her mother’s prophecy. Only to learn that she would fulfill the prophecy herself.

I think that this adaptation of Medea’s story is a stunning yet tragic window into a childhood of abuse. More importantly, I truly connected with Medea when she, how do you say, “snapped?” When Jason’s letter arrived stating that he was marrying the princess of Kolchis and he would be taking the children, leaving her an exile once again - the way the author delved into the idea of the abyss sparked a connection in me that I hadn’t been able to put into words before. As someone with diagnosed PTSD from childhood abuse (although I’m sure people in many other situations might relate to this), I have felt the proximity of the abyss before. When so much darkness happens to you, or you experience, when your reality becomes so ridiculous that you start to believe it can’t be real anymore, the abyss provides comfort. Medea stepped into the abyss when she received that letter from Jason. It was the tipping point, the wind that lifted her already precarious feet from the stable ground. She had so much power, and she knew it, but she held back because of morals, love, and other social restraints, but this released her. There’s something enticing about stepping into the abyss, a sense of freedom, an excuse to ignore the rules because they had been neglected at your detriment your whole life. It’s a way of taking back power, saying, this is what happens when you treat someone so poorly.

Like I said, I have my own experiences with the abyss. After a dark, dark, dark childhood, when I was younger and less healed, I came close to that edge many times. I see why it’s enticing, and people step into the abyss more frequently than one might think. I won’t make assumptions about other people, but I will say that I have seen it with a handful of people in my own life. Those that turn to drugs instead of therapy or stand firmly in their traumatized behaviour and refuse to change. I say nothing bad about choosing this path for yourself, only that there are other ways, but that’s not the point of this book review. The point I want to get across is that this story helped me see myself in a new light. I’ve done a LOT of work and therapy and self-care to drastically peel myself away from the abyss; in fact, I can’t even see it anymore. I’m fortunate for that and for the privilege that allowed me to access such resources as therapy. Medea helped me see just how proud of myself I am. I could have so easily taken the same path. For me, Medea represents that part of myself that wanted to because it would have been so easy to choose absolute self-destruction and live in a world where I remained a victim of my circumstances. This is simply my interpretation of her story in relation to my own life; everyone else will have different interpretations.

I cried when I closed this book. Happy but heavy tears. I always feel sorrow when I close a story and know that I have to say goodbye to that character until I reread it one day. I loved living with Medea for those few weeks. She showed me parts of myself I never saw before. She showed me parts of the human psyche that aren’t discussed enough. But most importantly?

She showed me how to forge my own path.

Incredible book, Eilish Quin, incredible.

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CW: 1 threat of SA and one SA scene that is not portrayed as such but still forced, unfortunately the norm after marriage in Ancient Greece.