books of alternate realities

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Wild by Cheryl Strayed: A Woman Hikes Alone

Wild: A Journey from Lost to Found is an autobiographical account of one woman’s hike across a large part of the Pacific Crest Trail through California and Oregon, and an exploration of her grief over the death of her mother. I watched the film adaptation a few years ago when I was still working at my local cinema, and I adored it. I thought Witherspoon’s acting was vulnerable and heart wrenching, and I was in awe at the beauty of the American landscape. Generally when Brits think of America, we think of the big cities or the people, and I don’t think I realised that the States had such a vast natural landscape until I was in my teens. Furthermore, the thought of trekking through mountains and desert with the possibility of seeing bears and cougars was both foreign and endearing to me. Anyway, years later, I have finally read the book. Wild may seem like it doesn’t really fit into the categories my blog focuses on, such as fantasy and dystopia, but I would argue that this book still depicts an ‘alternate reality’ of some kind. A journey through wilderness and total isolation is so far away from the reality of modern life, and Cheryl’s journey of intense self-discovery is not unlike that experienced by many heroines in fantasy or YA novels.

One thing that I wanted to discuss before looking at the novel itself is the negativity I found surrounding the book when I had a look at some reviews. Despite being a bestseller and having a fair share of great reviews, I couldn’t help but notice the large amount of people attacking the novel, and more particularly, Cheryl Strayed herself. I even came across the provocatively named blog ‘I HATE CHERYL STRAYED’, that I found so rude and petty that it made me angry. The creator of the blog advised readers that what she was saying was not, in fact, petty because she was a professional female hiker and knew what she was talking about. I still found her cruelty unnecessary. The main problems that she and others had with the book were: the writing (apparently it was bad), the way Cheryl seems to love herself too much and paint herself in an egotistical light, and most notably, the idea that she potentially made up the whole hike because her story is so unbelievable and clueless.

Regarding Cheryl’s writing, I thought the blogger had a snobby attitude. I don’t know what they like to read, but for me, Wild had strong characters, an endearing plot and fascinating setting, emotional rawness and the power to transport readers into the world of Cheryl Strayed. The critique of Cheryl seeming egotistical also failed to sway me; instead, I found her character to be honest and perceptive. Perhaps the positive treatment she experienced is not the reality for many hikers, but Cheryl herself acknowledges this in the book, when two other characters nickname her ‘The Queen of the PCT’. Besides, it is not overly surprising to me that a young attractive woman might be treated kindly by strangers in some instances.That’s just how privilege works. Finally, on the topic of how believable the book is – to me it was believable. I know that’s not saying too much, as a non-hiker, but let’s not forget that most readers are ordinary people such as myself, and not pro-hikers looking for a step by step hiking guide. Before anything else, this is a beautiful story, and Cheryl is the owner of that story and therefore gets to decide how to write it. Nobody can truly say whether she is lying or not. I think it is more troubling that bloggers and trolls think it is okay to completely tear down a woman in a very personal sense just because they have issues with a story. You can write a bad review for a book without launching a personal attack.

Moving on to the book itself, I thought I would talk about a few aspects that I found notable or interesting. Cheryl chooses to hike the PCT alone, and while she enjoys the company of others on her journey, after a couple of days she always yearns to be alone again. There is something about her solitude that she finds healing, and she views the time she has to navigate through her deepest thoughts as sacred. This portrayal of a woman being alone juxtaposes the common narrative of a woman alone; that they are lonely, vulnerable and potentially in danger. Of course, there are moments in the novel where Cheryl is all of those things. She longs for her ex-husband Paul, she worries about the intentions of men she meets and she is nearly attacked by several wild animals.

However, the overarching trajectory of the novel displays Cheryl being firmly at peace with being alone, and able to grieve in a healthy way throughout her self-discoveries. Despite her moments of weakness, she moves past them and demonstrates herself to be capable and strong by herself. When she writes Paul’s name in the sand at a beach, she acknowledges that it’ll be the last time she ever does it, and she avoids all danger that animals threaten. Furthermore, most of the men who she meets on the PCT are kind to her – only one encounter is truly negative. I like that the story does not become a warning to other women who might be brave enough to venture into the wilderness alone.

Her complete lack of experience is another aspect of her journey that allows the reader to imagine themselves doing something similar. The stories of Cheryl losing toenails, carrying a bag so much heavier than her own weight and running out of water feel very honest. These moments also force the reader to confront the privileges we take for granted, and question why we sometimes choose to remove those privileges for ourselves, as seen with PCT hikers. Is it because, despite our privileges, we have become numb to the pleasures of the modern world and can’t feel grateful stuck in a job we hate? Perhaps turning to nature and relying only on our most base instincts is an escape route. When Cheryl is exhausted, dirty and dehydrated from walking, she comments that she doesn’t have to worry about anything other than taking another step. The hike is so gruelling that it provides her with a safe haven away from her thoughts and previous life. Through physical pain, she is able to cope with her emotional pain.

One final note, is that the emphasis on literature is interesting in the novel – Cheryl views her books and poems as absolute necessities that she is not willing to give up on, despite their weight. I like that she finds solace through words even when she is comfortable being alone. I think that if I were to go on such a great adventure, then I would find books an immense comfort too.

I hope you enjoyed this review of Wild, feel free to let me know what you think of it. I am now reading Circe by Madeline Miller – a very different kind of story but perhaps one more suited to my blog! It’s been very exciting so far, so stay tuned for a discussion on that.

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The Penelopiad and the Power of Changing Perspective

Being a lifelong fantasy lover, the strange creatures and tales from ancient mythology were enough to reel me in to the world of Classics, and ultimately lead me to major in it at university. When I was little, I had a fixation on fairies, elves and magic animals – not unlike a lot of kids, you may point out – but I took it to the extreme. I must’ve irritated my Mother with the amount of letters I wrote to garden fairies. I would take my special writing paper, embellished with flowers, and write in my finest handwriting an imploring and curious letter, before sticking it in the dirt at the bottom of the tallest tree in my garden with a stick. I even left plastic rings attached to the letters for the fairies to use as tiaras, as if they wouldn’t have already had tiny delicate crowns made from leaves and petals. I don’t think they would’ve appreciated a bit of plastic junk from a free kids magazine, but hey, it’s the thought that counts. Anyway, these childhood obsessions moved from fairies to fantasy worlds depicted in books such as Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, where I was confounded by the level of imagination and meticulous detail that these stories contained.

As time went on, I realised that a lot of the ideas in fantasy novels and films were not completely original, or entirely created from a figment of imagination. Instead, as I found, many fantastical creatures, places and ideas were derived from classical mythology. And so began my desire to study classical literature (albeit in English translations due to the lack of Latin or Ancient Greek teachers at my schools and universities). One of the first pieces of classical literature I studied was Homer’s Iliad in college, which opened my eyes to a completely unfamiliar genre: the epic poem. It was interesting for a number of reasons, first of all because it is not fundamentally a piece of literature at all. Although we might study it in literature form, we have to remember that ‘Homer’ as a writer may not even exist, or may be multiple people, and that the story we read was most likely originally a collection of tales sung or spoken by a bard – a person who composed and recited epic or heroic poems, often while playing the harp or lyre. This was a really interesting concept to me, that I was reading something that was intended to be performed, an example of storytelling in its purest form.

The content itself of The Iliad was interesting – but with perhaps a bit too much war and gore for my liking. When I moved onto The Odyssey, I felt much more in my element. This is lucky, since I went on to study The Odyssey twice more at university, AND for my dissertation too. For a fantasy lover, The Odyssey has everything you could possibly want. Strange and beautiful lands? Check. Fantastical creatures from land and sea? Check. Powerful and enchanting goddesses? Check. A difficult but ultimately fulfilling journey? You get the idea. It has always baffled me that there hasn’t been a Game of Thrones-type television series created depicting the journey of Odysseus. I admit, it would be a huge task and perhaps creators are intimidated by the age and influence of the poem, and there is also a high chance that it would not be very good – but I would still like to watch it.

Anyway, I think maybe it’s time to progress with the main point of this blog post, which is to discuss Margaret Atwood’s adaptation of The Odyssey in novella form, The Penelopiad. Forgive me for the long introduction – since this is my first post, I felt it was necessary to give some backstory into my love of fantasy and Classics as a subject and realm. My interest in feminism and the power of the female voice began roughly when I was 15, a few years before I started studying Classics. From this age, I began to interrogate the things I read with a more critical eye than I had in the past, asking questions about the female characters; what they spoke about, how they were depicted and what their purposes were. However, as I began reading classical literature, I didn’t hold it to the same standards as I held modern literature to. I was well aware that feminism did not exist as a concept in Ancient Greece, and so it didn’t surprise me too much that the main female (non-goddess) characters in The Odyssey were a faithful wife and a beautiful yet dangerous pawn in a man’s game. This is not to say that there are no interesting or powerful female characters in The Odyssey – there are some super cool and fearless goddesses, and even the main characters are more than what they seem – yet, it is hardly a feminist story. It is a man’s story, after all, like many classical tales are.

I got The Penelopiad as a Christmas present, which I was over the moon about. Margaret Atwood is definitely one of my favourite authors, with her books being gripping, female oriented and experimental, and she’d written her own version of a classical text I loved. On initial glance, the novella is tiny, but it is soon apparent that Atwood is not attempting to rewrite The Odyssey in full, therefore she does not need to take up too much space. Instead, she writes from the perspective of Penelope, not in chronological format, but from the perspective that Penelope is in the afterlife, looking back on the events of The Odyssey, and her life. Additionally to Penelope, Atwood’s novella belongs to the 12 maids hanged by Odysseus on his return to Ithaca. Despite the novella’s misleading name, it is the maids who have the loudest voice throughout the text, even haunting Penelope as she tells her version of events.

Arguably the two most important Homeric women, Helen and Penelope do not interact at all in either The Odyssey or The Iliad; instead, they are contained away from each other and a dichotomy is created in which the women fall on opposite sides. In The Penelopiad, Atwood imagines what might happen if these two important female characters actually interacted, but she hardly portrays a friendship. Instead, she plays on this dichotomy the two women have been placed in by making them mortal enemies, in order to demonstrate the constant competition that women in The Odyssey face, where they compete for the attention and approval of the men around them. It seems that women cannot use their voices together because they all fear each other; they are aware that they are easily replaceable and subject to the whims of men.

By emphasising how they are not alike, having both characters constantly insult each other, Atwood deliberately calls attention to the similarities between Helen and Penelope. Penelope may say she is not a siren, but she uses her intellect to lead the suitors into false pretences, which is potentially more calculating than what Helen does. Indeed, Helen leads men into war and to their deaths, like a siren, but she does this unintentionally. In fact, we never actually see Helen seducing anyone in The Iliad or Odyssey. And so, by having Penelope call Helen out, Atwood highlights the contradictions of Penelope’s character, and in fact, of all women. She suggests that you cannot box women into categories such as the pure wife or the femme fatale because these are superficial labels and cannot account for a person’s whole character.

Moving away from Helen and Penelope’s relationship, the twelve maids act as a chorus, weaving poems, songs and chants throughout the story; therefore their unified voice forms the heart of the novella. The maids go from having no voice in The Odyssey to becoming a powerful and indignant force in Atwood’s re-imagining. The main reason given for the murder of the maids is that they slept with the suitors, therefore dishonouring the palace, but Odysseus obliterates his justification when he confronts the suitors in Book 22. He says to the men, ‘you despoiled my household and forcibly took my serving women to sleep beside you’, which explicitly reveals that the maids were raped. This means that the maids are being punished for actions outside of their control, actions that hurt them. Melantho may be described as Eurymachus’ ‘sweetheart’, but it is highly unlikely the maids would have had any other choice but to play along with the suitors’ fantasies, as they would risk danger to themselves otherwise. While this cruelty is unchallenged in The Odyssey, Atwood calls attention to these injustices in an attempt to counteract the notion of Odysseus’ heroism and give the dominant voice to wronged women.

There are other criticisms of the patriarchy running through the novella besides the chorus of maids. The way Penelope describes her marriage, being second choice to Helen and being handed to Odysseus at age fifteen ‘like a package of meat’, brings to light how women had little choice but to succumb to men. Penelope may be faithful and devoted, but Atwood demonstrates that these qualities do not guarantee the willingness of a woman to be treated like an object. Also, by underlining the lack of female choice in marriage, Atwood encourages sympathy towards Helen who is punished for betraying a marriage in which she was won like a prize, with no regard for her own desires. There is also a rather explicit warning for female readers to not let themselves be controlled by men, as Penelope says ‘don’t follow my example, I want to scream in your ears’. Despite being the homeric prototype of the perfect woman, Atwood imagines Penelope as a cautionary tale.

Female adaptations of classical texts like Atwood’s The Penelopiad have risen in popularity over the last few decades, such as Helene Cixous’, The Laugh of the Medusa and Alice Oswald’s Memorial, a reworking of The Iliad. While not all of these translations specifically aim to provide an alternative to sexist traditions in ancient texts or male translations, their mere existence helps to add female perspectives into the field of classics. Atwood, however, clearly does desire to challenge representations of the female voice in The Odyssey. Not only does she provide her own perspective, but she provides Penelope’s and the murdered maids’ perspective, providing a scope of female voices from the high status individual to the low status group.

There is so much more to The Penelopiad than what I have discussed in this post – comedy, beautiful poetry and great dialogue between characters – but I don’t want to overdo it. Although this novella may not be blatant fantasy, it is definitely a story of an alternate reality. This is in part due to the perspective of the novella being from the afterlife, but also because Atwood has provided an alternate version of famous events, forcing us to confront the portrayals of female characters in all classical texts and ask the question, what if? For me personally, The Penelopiad serves as a source of inspiration. I hope to one day write a piece of fiction or poetry inspired by the classical world, or even create a modern adaptation of classical literature. Especially if I can get some magical creatures in there.

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch

I picked up a copy of Good Omens in Waterstones a few months ago, aware that it would be slightly out of my comfort zone, but intrigued about the world of angels and demons that the blurb promised. I also wanted to read it because I had seen the new TV adaptation posters plastered all over London buses, and David Tennant’s face seemed to plead with me to watch the show – I make a habit of watching most things that Tennant stars in. He’s wonderful. I knew that as soon as I started watching the series, I either wouldn’t want to read the book, or I would picture every character as their respective television actors, which I wanted to avoid. Hence, I picked up the book.

I wasn’t aware of the almost ‘cult classic’ reputation of this novel until after I had finished it, finding many raving reviews saying the book was one of their favourites and praising it for being hilarious. I wish I could be saying the same thing, but I can’t. I’m actually more disappointed in myself than with the book itself, annoyed that I couldn’t get hooked to it and drift fully into the vivid world it depicts. ‘Does this mean I have a terrible sense of humour?’ – is definitely a question I pondered, but I think it just comes down to personal taste. There is no doubt that the book is extremely clever, filled with satire and originally designed, extravagant characters. I loved the premise of the novel: that the Antichrist’s birth leads to angels and demons joining forces in order to try to escape the dreadful prophecies promised in a book by the nutty Agnes Nutter. I loved the dialogue between the children in Tadfield (including the Antichrist himself, Adam), the personification of Famine, Pestilence, War and Death as the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and many small but amusing additions to the novel such as the hellhound (or dog) looking for his master or the unromantic romance between Newton Pulsifier and Anathema Device.

I missed that feeling of being fully enticed by a story and having a connection to the characters. I didn’t really care about anyone or anything that was happening, I was merely aware that it was written in an amusing manner. It is quite clearly intentional that the plot drifts all over the place, and we are consistently introduced to new, weird and wonderful characters that purposefully distract from the main events. While this may be one of the main allures of the novel for its fans, it didn’t connect well with me. Good Omens prioritises short bouts of interconnected storytelling over focusing on the main plot, and also prioritises amusing and satirical dialogue rather than meaningful character development. This is more of a personal critique than a general critique – I’m a sucker for deep connections that I can find both between characters, and between myself and the story. It may be that I’m just not used to novels that use so much satire, and I may need to expand my bookshelf to include more styles outside of my comfort zone, but this particular style of writing didn’t grip me. Besides, I do read books that explore events and characters existing away from the main plot, or have multiple narrators (GoT for example), but I think the difference here is that they’ve still been relatively ‘serious’, and so I didn’t feel I was being lead off on a nonsensical tangent.

Despite my somewhat negative review, I did still really enjoy delving into a new style by some clearly very talented authors – Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. I haven’t actually read anything by either of the authors before (I know, for a fantasy lover, this is shocking), but this book hasn’t ruined them for me. I definitely would like to try American Gods. As a classics student, I love tales about gods and goddesses, perhaps besides modern ones. I just have a particular sense of humour and this book didn’t quiiiiite make me laugh like it does for so many. In other news, I have plenty of books to keep me going for the next couple of months, including The Testaments, Circe, Silence of the Girls, and a book of Nordic folk tales! I also just finished Wild by Cheryl Strayed, which I plan to write a discussion of very soon….

Hopefully 2020 is going to be an inspiring year for reading, writing and discovering beautiful stories. Ciao for now, and happy new year to my fellow book lovers.

Tag:What book should I read?

I am still currently in the process of reading Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, but I wanted to get into the groove of writing a blog post every week, even if it doesn’t correspond to a particular book. Why haven’t I finished Good Omens yet? It’s not because it isn’t interesting. It’s actually very comedic, imaginative and a completely different style to what I’m used to. However, I am still trying to get into a better rhythm where I can find time to read, whether this means on public transport, on my break at work, or before bed. Since being at university I’ve found it much harder to get reading for pleasure into my daily schedule, and even though now I’ve graduated, I’ve held onto some bad habits; being at work all day and wanting to get out of the house on my days off plays into this. But – I am determined that with the arrival of this new blog, I will change my habits and read much more so that I can be an all round happier person. After all, reading has been a huge love of mine since I was little.

Anyway, onto this tag by booksnest.co.uk, which is a bit of fun.

The Questions

A book that a certain friend is always telling you to read
A book that’s been on your TBR forever and yet you still haven’t picked it up
A book in a series you’ve started, but haven’t gotten round to finishing yet
A classic you’ve always liked the sound of, but never actually read
A popular book that it seems everyone but you has read
A book that inspired a film/TV adaptation that you really love, but you just haven’t read it yet
A book you see all over Instagram but haven’t picked up yet

My Answers

I’ve been told by quite a few people to read The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. Reading the blurb, it doesn’t immediately appeal to me, but I loved The Secret History and haven’t read any more of her books, so I definitely will put it on my list. The Secret History had so many things that I look for in a book, from intricately formed characters, mystery, darkness and a good dose of classical mythology, and so I don’t doubt that The Goldfinch will have a similar allure. On a side note, I recommend The Magicians by Lev Grossman to any The Secret History fans – it retains the strange school setting and weird yet wonderful characters but takes a more magical diversion. I’ve only just now found out that there is actually an American television adaptation of The Magicians, which I will immediately have to watch the trailer for!

A book that I’ve wanted to read for a long time is Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail by Cheryl Strayed. It’s about a woman who walks the famous Pacific Crest Trail across the Western states of the U.S. after the death of her Mother and breakdown of her marriage. I think that anybody attracted to the idea of an American road trip might understand the appeal of this book – it promises pure adventure and an emotional journey whilst also detailing the beauty of the American landscape. I might not be a hiker, but I have a feeling that I might want to go on a big hike by the time I’ve finished this book. If not, at least a holiday. On a very similar note, I would also like to read Americana (And the Act of Getting Over It.) by Luke Healy, which is also an account and exploration of a solo journey across the PCT, but this time, in graphic novel form. The only graphic novel I have read is Fun Home, but I loved it and so definitely need to venture into the world of illustrated novels.

In response to the question about a book series I need to finish reading, I read Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood and need to complete the MaddAddam trilogy. I guess when I read the book, it sort of felt like a book in it’s own right, but I am intrigued to see where the story unfolds. I loved the bizarre world that Atwood created in the first book, finding it a completely original take on the dystopian genre.

A classic I’ve always wanted to read is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. I remember picking it up in school once and taking it out of the library, but I don’t think I got very far. I don’t necessarily trust my 14 year old self enough to refuse to try it again though. Generally, I much prefer modern classics to “proper” classics – novels by Dickens, Austen, the Bronte’s, Hardy and so on – but Wuthering Heights is referenced so often that I would like to have a more of a meaningful insight into the novel besides knowing all the words to the Kate Bush song.

It seems that everyone read The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman as a child and I missed out, meaning I am behind on the entire book series and the films too. As a lover of fantasy, this does not seem acceptable.

I loved the movie Far From The Madding Crowd with Carey Mulligan, Matthias Schoenaerts and Michael Sheen. It also has Juno Temple (Wild Child) and Jessy Barden from the amazing British show The End of the Fucking World. I thought this film was so beautifully shot, and I loved the dialogue between characters. Most of all, I loved the main character, Bathsheba, who is a determined and charismatic female character in charge of her own farm, repeatedly refusing to be bullied by men or act excited at the prospect of a marriage proposal. Indeed, the plot does turn out to be a rather complicated love story, or several, but Bathsheba is still undoubtedly a female icon. I started reading the book, and as I’ve found with many classic novels, I found it to be very slow paced and hard to get into. However, I still would love to finish it.

As for a book that I keep seeing EVERYWHERE right now, that would have to be The Testaments by Margaret Atwood. Even the cake shop where I work made little cupcakes with the famous handmaid image on them for a book event in London! If I don’t get it for Christmas, I might have to treat myself to this one.

Hopefully the next time I write a post I’ll be exploring the world of Good Omens, but for now, I hope this post is of interest – I always like reading other people’s book recommendations so I can add to my ever-growing list! Ciao for now.