Book Review: "Ariadne"

Jennifer Saint's debut novel gives us the

It really does seem like we’re living in a golden age for a retelling of the myths of antiquity. Though it’s hard to pinpoint exactly when this phenomenon emerged or who is responsible, I would posit that the huge success of Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles is as good a place to start as any, and since that book hit shelves in 2011 we’ve seen a whole clutch of similar retellings, including Miller’s sophomore effort, Circe, Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls (2018), Natalie Haynes’ The Children of Jocasta (2017) and A Thousand Ships (2019) and, most recently, Jennifer Saint’s Ariadne. 

Like the other books listed here, Ariadne gives a voice to one of the ancient world’s most famous princesses, the daughter of King Minos of Crete and the woman who aided Theseus in his navigation of the Labyrinth and slaying of the Minotaur. The book follows her from childhood to her untimely and tragic death at the hands of Perseus, focusing in particular on her marriage to the god Dionysus. The book also gives us the viewpoint of her younger sister Phaedra, the woman fated to become the wife of Theseus but who takes her own life after her amorous adventures to Hippolytus are rebuffed.

As with all good retellings of the ancient myths, Ariadne confronts one of the fundamental issues facing humanity: our collective mortality. This is especially important for Ariadne, since she spends most of the novel married to a god, and one of the novel’s strengths is that it allows us to bear witness to her struggle to reconcile the fact that she will die and her husband will go on without her. Even the presence of her beloved children isn’t quite enough to make her feel any better about this fundamental reality of her being. 

Ariadne also realizes very early on that, as a woman, she will almost always be at the mercy of the men in her life. At the beginning of the novel, she obviously has to contend with the dictatorial rule of her father, but even after Theseus supposedly rescues her from that tyranny, she finds herself abandoned on the island of Naxos. Her marriage to Dionysus provides some succor, but it soon becomes clear that she will remain behind while he spreads his worship throughout the world. It’s fitting, then, that at the novel’s end she has become one of the many stars in the heavens, shedding her light on the women that pray to her in childbirth. It’s a haunting and evocative ending, full of pathos and warmth.

And then there’s Phaedra. After Ariadne disappears, it falls to her to bind together the feuding nations of Athens and Crete, and so she becomes the wife of Theseus. All too soon, she sees what a boor and a liar he is, and her heart slowly turns to bitterness. Unlike Ariadne, who takes pleasure in the company of her children, Phaedra feels nothing for hers, and it’s not until Theseus’ son Hippolytus arrives that she sees an escape from her miserable life. It’s not long, however, before that too turns to ashes, and she takes her own life in a fit of despair.

It’s also a very beautifully written novel. While it doesn’t always have quite the same poetic grace as authors like Miller, Saint does have a keen command of language, and at its best the novel does capture some of the poignant beauty of the ancient poets themselves. I think that the best of these retellings of ancient myths are those that try to capture some of the strangeness of that world, and Saint does, at times, do exactly that. 

Make no mistake, this is a very strange, dark, and dangerous world, though it is also one of great beauty. Saint doesn’t try to historicize the myth but instead takes it for granted that the gods walk among mortals. Thus, we see Dionysus leading his maenads into the hills, where their rites grow ever more frenzied, until they begin to engage in blood sacrifice. Likewise, we also see the true horror of the Minotaur, a beast condemned to live in the dark depths of the Labyrinth, even as his mother and half-siblings wander the halls above. Through Ariadne’s eyes, we even start to feel a bit sorry for the unfortunate creature who, after all, came into being through no fault of its own.  

If I have one complaint about this novel, it’s that it does, at times, feel a bit rushed. It’s a slender 300 pages or so, but a lot happens during the course of the story. This means that Phaedra’s story gets a bit short-shrift, and she rather abruptly falls in love with Hippolytus and then, after he rebuffs her, takes her own life. I would have liked to see a bit more character development here, so that her feelings for the young man, and her eventual suicide, would land with more of an impact. 

All in all, however, I found Ariadne to be a triumph of mythic storytelling. It restores women to the central place in the cultural pantheon. Though it’s about women’s individual experiences, it’s also about the bonds between them. Thus, we see the rich but troubled relationship between Ariadne and Phaedra, and we feel the former’s anguish when she sees her sister’s body hanging from a tree. Likewise, we see the ways in which Ariadne gradually draws closer to her husband’s worshipers, understanding that they have come to Naxos to escape a cruel, patriarchal world that cares little for their emotional or physical needs. Lastly, the sisters’ relationship with their mother Pasiphae, a woman cursed to give birth to a monster and who even mourns the beast after its death at the hands of Theseus. 

Though Ariadne doesn’t necessarily take too many risks in terms of its storytelling, it is nevertheless a fine retelling of the intertwined stories of two sisters who both found themselves at the mercy of the men in their lives.