The Marble Faun, by Nathaniel Hawthorne

 I did it.  I finally finished The Marble Faun.  And it took a looooooong time.  

It wasn't that it was particularly difficult reading, but I'd just lose interest, start and finish another book, then remember Oh yeah.  I was reading this, too.  I've read Hawthorne before but, honestly, not a lot.  I didn't remember him droning so much in his writing and I suppose, if I'd been his contemporary, I probably wouldn't have found the reading so slow.  If I'm living in the mid-19th century, it isn't like there is a lot to do for recreation beyond chasing a hoop with a stick, right?

But The Marble Faun isn't the type of book that you just read on a lark.  It's deep, yet shallow; profound, but contrived; gothic, but still moralizing.  The story follows four friends living in Rome.  Three of them are American expats, living and working as artists (Miriam, Hilda, Kenyon); one of them is a count from the Italian countryside (Donatello).  We begin the story with the three American artists belittling their "simple" Italian friend (he is not simple, they are just racist) and comparing him to the Marble Faun of Praxiteles.

Fortunately, they keep all comparisons above the waist, focusing solely on his face and expressions.  Apparently, the "simplicity" of his race renders Donatello -like this marble faun- happy and incapable of comprehending melancholy, anger, sadness, or any of the darker emotions.  No, Donatello the marble faun can only understand levity and joy, like his kind, the woodland sprites and wild, savage creatures of nature.  Hell, he probably even has pointy ears under his mess of uncut hair!  WHAT A GROSS EUROPEAN!

In spite of their jovial mockery, the foursome are inseparable.  Kenyon is deeply in love with Hilda (praised for her severe purity); Hilda is BFFs with Miriam; Donatello is smitten with Miriam and follows her like a dog (Hawthorne's description, not mine); and they are all pals 4eva!  Until one day when a spooky dark stranger follows Miriam around on a group tour of the catacombs.  

But who is this dark stranger who follows her around like a creeper for the remainder of the book?  He is clearly distressing her but, weirdly, none of her friends offer to help a girl out...except for poor, besotted Donatello, who apparently can feel ire when it comes to weirdos stalking his girl.  But Miriam is guarding a dark secret, so she refuses his offers to destroy the president of her fan club.

Still.  He just wants her to know that he's ready.  She just has to say the word.

One night, a horrible crime takes place, and scatters the friends in different directions.  Hilda's judgmental piety prevents her from being a good friend; Donatello apparently can feel emotions, like a real boy; Miriam insists on punishing herself because she rebuffed a stalker; and poor Kenyon remains clueless.  Meanwhile, Hawthorne drones for days between the action about how Rome is both gross (there are bugs and poor people) and beautiful (there is art and stuff).

So why did I want to read this book?  Well, two reasons:

1. The jacket description sounded more intriguing than it actually was.
2. This lady:

One of my favorite movies of all time is Grey Gardens, the documentary of Edith Bouvier Beale and her daughter, also Edith Bouvier Beale (Big Edie, Little Edie).  These ladies were relatives of Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis and lived in squalor in their home estate in the Hamptons.  Well-educated and well-read, Little Edie (pictured) mentions how their errand boy Jerry reminds her of the Marble Faun.  She asks him if he's read the book (he hasn't) and explains that she wonders if he "would be up for it" (as in, "would comprehend it because he is as 'simple' as Donatello").  Of course, her thick NY accent makes her say The Mawble Fo-awwwwn so, obviously, I had to read it.

And I did.

Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief, by Rick Riordan

Guys, you've heard me talk about Greek mythology before.

Hark back with me to 2005.  I was in college when a new young adult series was making its way onto the literary scene.  While I was indeed wrapped up in the then-contemporary world of Harry Potter, teenage wizard of great renown, a new series about some middle schooler learning he was half Greek deity was a touch "young" for my liking.  (OK, I didn't feel like I was above it, per se, just not particularly interested at that time.)  Anyway, I'd heard of them, but never bothered to pick up any of the Percy Jackson books.

Fast forward to February of 2023.  For about three years, my family had purchased season passes to our local children's theater, where stage adaptations of books are very common.  That winter, we saw a production of The Lightning Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical.  For whatever reason, this particular performance really sparked an interest in Greek mythology for my kids, especially for my daughter.  After the show, we went to a nearby Starbucks, got our favorite drinks, and talked about the musical.  It was at that point that I began telling my kids all the stories I recalled loving in my childhood and adolescence: epic mortal adventures, family feuds among the Olympians followed by unity when facing the Titans, their common enemy.  My kids sat, rapt with attention, listening to my every word, asking intelligent questions, impressed with their mother's vast knowledge (it isn't) of such a badass topic.  It was an historic event, like a comet that appears every 200 years.  Even my husband was into it.  It was a special moment in my life that I will never forget.

Anyway, as you know, we continue to be a mythology loving crew.  Later in 2023, when Disney+ came out with a new Percy Jackson series, my daughter got really into it, and so did I, by extension.  (Seriously, I felt like it was very well done.)  Soon after, her class had a unit on mythology at school, and she dominated it, knowing far more than even her teacher.  So, I felt like maybe I ought to pick up this book and read it myself.

I already knew the story, having seen a few different renderings of it on the stage and the screen.  I have a pre-established knowledge and understanding of the "who's who" in Greek mythology, and certainly a predilection for it.  The book did not disappoint!  It was great fun for me from start to finish, even knowing how it would end.  (On that note, may I just reiterate the quality of the Disney+ series?  Sure, they may have changed a couple of things and the cast doesn't always match the physical descriptions of the characters in the book, but it really captures the spirit of the novel.)

Without giving too much away, the first of the Percy Jackson series introduces us to to the titular character.  A young tween living in New York, Percy is the son of Sally Jackson and [question mark].  Percy struggles with a number of things including dyslexia and ADHD, although the reasons for these are later explained to him.  He has bounced around between schools for as long as he can remember, always getting into trouble, despite trying his best to avoid it.  When unexplained phenomena begin occurring at his current school, things take a new turn that even Percy couldn't have imagined.  Upon learning that he is a "half-blood" (a demigod: half human, half Greek god), the world of mortals becomes so dangerous for him that he ends up moving to a special place for kids like him.  Camp Half-Blood is a training facility and home for (wait for it) half-bloods, that is safeguarded against the particular sorts of mythological monsters bent on destroying the mortal children of the Olympians.

But even Camp Half-Blood can't protect him forever.  Inter-Olympian struggles are brewing that threaten the entire planet, and Percy's very existence lies at the heart of it.  Along with friends -new and old- Percy is destined to set things to rights.  In so doing, he learns the identity of his father and discovers an entirely new side of himself.  It's a great coming-of-age sort of adventure, fun for kids and adults alike...

...especially for the mythology-loving nerds among us.

Norse Mythology, by Neil Gaiman

Do you remember how much I love mythology?  Of course you do.  You're my number one fan.

But I'll recap:  I fell in love with Greek mythology as a young child when my babysitter brought over this book.  In fact, my sister and I loved it so much that it became part of our regular routine to read Greek mythology when this particular babysitter came over on the occasional Friday night.  I, for one, was smitten with the imagery and the stories of all the weirdos, human and deity alike.

This love didn't fade with age.  In fact, I found myself gleefully anticipating any English class in middle school, high school, and college that incorporated the classics.  It is a love that I have been able to pass along to my own kids, who share my enthusiasm for stories of heroes, Titans, and Olympians.

In more recent years, I have cast my net wider to include mythology from other parts of the world.  Among these are the legendary Norse gods, like those I mentioned from this book.  As previously stated, this pantheon of goons is slightly more likeable than their Olympian counterparts...and certainly sillier.  If the Olympians are your self-aggrandizing, prone to violence, and unstable relative, then the Aesir/Vanir are your abrasive, crass, obnoxious -but sort of well-meaning- drunk uncle.

Long before I picked up any anthology on the myths of Scandinavia, a particular book loomed on my "to read" list:  Norse Mythology, by Neil Gaiman.  I finally got around to reading it.

Most people know that Neil Gaiman is a successful writer of great acclaim (Coraline, Stardust, Good Omens, among others).  Indeed, he is also an artful storyteller, compiling the myths and legends of the Norse pantheon into one fluid narrative.  Norse Mythology is written so that it can be read like a novel with, more or less, a chronology that is easy to follow.  This flow lends a continuity to the stories that is otherwise lost when they are read serially or at random.  For a Type A personality like mine, this is a gem, and it makes this particular publication ideal for those who are new(ish) to Norse mythology.  We begin with Yggdrasil (the World Tree) and the nine worlds; we end with Ragnarok, the prophesied apocalyptic event that leads to the fall of Valhalla and the end of the Norse gods.  In between are the stories of the Aesir and the Vanir along with their (mis)adventures among the Jotun and the dwarves.

It's tremendous fun.

I happened to listen to this book rather than read it.  Listeners are in luck, as Gaiman narrates the book himself.  I typically appreciate it when an author narrates his/her own work as it really preserves the writer's voice in a way that might be lost in translation with a different reader.  Whether you read it or listen to it, Gaiman's voice is present throughout in a playful way, particularly in his telling of the story of Loki at Skadi's wedding.  Tasked with making the bride (Skadi) laugh, Loki does one of the dumbest things imaginable: he ties his balls to the beard of a goat.  It goes about how you think it would go and, yes, Skadi laughs.  (As do we all, Skadi.  As do we all.)  Incidentally, the D'Aulaires deftly skirt this more graphic story in their Book of Norse Myths by simply stating that Loki "tied himself to its [the goat's] beard".  There is no mention of genitalia, making this version more suitable for younger children...although mine roared with laughter at the mention of Loki's twig and berries.

Norse Mythology is an excellent retelling of some of the greatest stories to transcend time.  Neil Gaiman certainly doesn't disappoint as he calls upon readers to make the stories their own by retelling them to those who would listen.  (What a lovely thought!)  My one and only complaint about his retelling of Norse myths is that Gaiman doesn't spend nearly enough time on Freya's cats.  I can only assume he is presently working on the sequel, detailing the importance of these majestic floofs.

D'Aulaires' Book of Norse Myths, by Ingri and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire

NOTE:  I wrote this post MONTHS ago but, for some reason, it never got published.  So, I suppose it makes sense in tandem with the review that I am presently writing on Neil Gaiman's Norse Mythology.

Hooray!  It finally arrived!

Returning readers may recall (Ooo!  Alliteration!) my deep and abiding love for Greek mythology, owed almost entirely to a childhood babysitter and this book that I wrote about back in April (2023):

When I finally purchased my own copy -decades later in life- I learned that the D'Aulaires had co-written/illustrated even more world myths.  While I have a solid handle on Greek mythology, I do enjoy branching out and learning about the legends, folklore, myths, and fairy tales that come from other parts of the world.  Over the years, I have enjoyed a vague familiarity with Norse mythology, but I haven't spent nearly as much time with the pantheon of old-timey Scandinavia.

Until now.

No matter which way you look at it, the Olympians of ancient Greece are assholes.  Truly.  There isn't one among them without the stain of atrocity on his/her sleeve.  They are absolute train wrecks.  Imagine your most unstable relative - you know, the one who always blows up at holiday celebrations and ends up yelling at the kids.  Now imagine that relative is immortal and has unlimited power and drinks too much and exists in a dozen different beings.

Welcome to Mount Olympus.

The Norse gods are, for all their faults, slightly different.  They have immensely long lives, but know that their days are numbered.  They are discombobulated, unorganized, misogynistic (although somewhat less so than their Greek counterparts), and waaaay too into war (Excuse me, sir, do you have time to talk about Valhalla?), but they know that Ragnarok is pending and they want to get their shit together before it comes.  

Like their Olympian cousins, however, the Aesir are one hot mess.  (And so are the Vanir -a separate but related tribe/grouping of Norse gods- although I'd argue they are nutters to a moderately lesser degree.)  They fight with and deceive one another, but they share an overall goal for themselves and vision for humanity.  They seem a little more human than the Olympians, even though they are sometimes actual animals/monsters (literally -not figuratively- speaking).

From the entirety of both the Greek and Norse pantheons, however, one deity rises high above the rest.  Say what you will about her "profession" as the Norse goddess of love, beauty, fertility (also war, death, magic, lust, gold, according to other sources), Freya is BY FAR THE BEST OF THE BEST.  Here is why:

Do you see that?  In case you missed it, let me point it out again:

OK, one more time, just to be sure (Freya is just to the right of center):

Freya seems to be almost synonymous with HER CATS.  For this reason -and this reason alone- I want her to be my best friend.  Why is she always depicted with cats?  Scroll back up to the first image and you'll see something that only a divine being could do.  Freya's chariot/sled is pulled by cats.  Not huskies, not horses, not reindeer or donkeys or even Thor's famed goats.  Cats.  Say it again with me:  CATS.  The best part is that this isn't even the D'Aulaires taking some artistic license.  Since her inception, this honorary Aesir (originally one of the Vanir) has been chauffeured by cats.  Google it.

Loki is weird.  Thor is hilariously oafish.  Odin thinks he's sneaky (he's not).  No doubt about it, this pile of goons and faulty deities are laughable and wonderful in their own right.  I'm not sure who would win in a battle of the Olympians versus the Aesir (+/- Vanir), but I do know one thing:  Freya and her cats will ALWAYS win in my book.  And my kids agree, because science has indisputably proven the following:

Cats > Everything else