Mythical Fantasy: Neil Gaiman, Rick Riordan, and Road Trip Nostalgia

For each of these authors, there is so much that one could say that no one post could do them justice. I’ll be back to them in other posts.

Neil Gaiman’s American Gods,  the work I’m thinking of here, differs quite a bit from Riordan’s mythic novels. American Gods is adult-oriented and darker, whereas Riordan’s mythic novels are squarely the MG/YA arena. Yet they both not only talk about the immigration of Old World gods to America, but they also have a sort of nostalgia for the great American road trip and places you find along the way.

Gaiman’s American Gods travels the country celebrating not just the immigrant cultures and experiences that make up the country but also the off-beat places along the road, such as The House on the Rock and the climatic Rock City. In interviews, Gaiman has talked about his own road-trip experiences while writing the novel, e.g from his Rain taxi interview :

When I came to write them later it was incredibly useful having that knowledge of what it’s like down there—stuff I made up became very solid. With American Gods, I wanted to use that, and I would actually do things like go on little road trips. I’d say if my characters are going from here to here, I need to sort of follow the kind of places they’re going and see where they wind up. We get that wonderful chapter in Cairo, Illinois; it exists because I had to drive from here to Florida and thought I’d do it by taking back roads. I liked the sound of the name. When I got there I discovered it was this wonderful town that had once been full of history and that history had now passed by. The time when the Mississippi and the Ohio were trading rivers. Everything was happening on them—they were the arteries, the confluence, a wonderful place. Now it’s sparsely populated, with a sign saying “Welcome to historical Cairo.” That’s about it. I walked through the customs house museum which was one of the saddest little buildings I’ve ever walked through. So what can you have in Cairo? The Egyptian gods seemed so perfect for that.

Riordan’s YA mythic books, most notably the Percy Jackson series but also his Roman, Norse, and Egyptian series, also serve as a nostalgic map of American places. Just to name a few: the Washington Monument and Camelback Mountain in his Kane Chronicles (Egyptian), the St. Louis Arch and Las Vegas (Greek/Percy Jackson), the Grand Canyon (Roman/Lost Heroes), or the many sites of Boston (Norse). People have even used Google Maps to mark many of the places.

Both thus make great road trip books, especially if you can line up where you’re going with what appears in the book. But even if you can’t, their nostalgia for the American roadtrip would thematically enrich your journey.

Special shout out to Riordan’s Kane Chronicles, the premise of which is that two siblings leave a voice recording behind so it makes the perfect audiobook for the car. It is narrated by two people representing the two siblings who take turns recalling their adventures. They’ve released a new audiobook with new voice actors which I haven’t heard (I have an older version, which was great) so I don’t know how good a job they do.

An interesting read on Greek mythical retellings and who’s telling them

Over on BookRiot, Lyndsie Manusos asks where are the Greek authors among the retellings of Greek mythology. She seeks “to give a perspective and a voice. To show a lens with which to view what we haven’t, or even knew to look for, before.” She quotes Eleanna Castroianni, who says

The readership and the gatekeepers are from the U.S., and the U.S. has not really made the connection that Greek mythology is someone else’s mythology.

She thus raises issues worth considering as we all reflect why we are the ones to tell a story. As I recently saw on a QueryManager form: “If you are writing from a marginalized perspective but are not part of that community, why are you the right person to write this story?”

With both Greek and Roman stories, of course, the issue is complicated by the long history of reception of their cultures (art, architecture, myth,  literature, philosophy, etc.). Manusos does raise the history of Classical Reception, though weirdly starts with Neoclassicism in the 18th cent. CE. What about the Renaissance centuries earlier? Or even earlier? Ancient Greece and Rome has long informed and influenced younger cultures (as they had, in turn, been influenced by older SWANA cultures). This centuries-long interweaving leaves those cultures (Greece and Rome) not in a marginalized position, but indeed a position of dominance. 

This issue recalls to me something I read in a review by Holly Ranger of Susanna Morton Braund, Zara M. Torlone (ed.), Virgil and his Translators (2018). In one paper in the collection, Richard F. Thomas considers the issue of domestication in translation. This follows Venuti in his 1998 book The Scandals of Translation: Towards an Ethics of Difference. For those unfamiliar with this issue, Venuti says,

Domestication and foreignization deal with ‘the question of how much a translation assimilates a foreign text to the translating language and culture, and how much it rather signals the differences of that text.

Ranger, in her review, questions the power dynamics between the Greek and Latin originals and their English translations. She says,

This reviewer felt that the chapter’s argument was predicated on the use of Venuti’s critique of domestication as a straw man. Thomas notes that ‘[i]n the case of translation of Roman poetry, [Venuti’s] considerations and reservations seem to recede’ (245); yet domestication is not simply concerned with the aesthetic relationship between source text and target text, but also (following Deleuze and Guattari) the relationships of power between major and minor languages, and cultural and linguistic hegemony—as revealed in, say, the neocolonial action of a domesticating (‘majoritarian’) translation of a Farsi text in an English that whitewashes the source text’s cultural values. Latin, like ancient Greek, occupies a curious position as the only language in relation to which English may be said to hold the ‘minoritarian’ position; a careful analysis of these dynamics was missing here.

Similarly, Ancient Greek and Roman mythic literature stands in a majoritarian position over English literature in a way that few or no others do. The cultural hegemonic influence of Greek myth and literature on English literature has a long history, tracing at early as Chaucer and Middle English in the 14th cent. CE, e.g. his Troilus and Criseyde set in the Trojan War – or earlier (one could think of the 11th cent. Old English Apollonius of Tyre, although it may be more a translation than an original work).

Nevertheless, Manusos raises good issues to consider. Certainly these are questions I have asked myself as I write mythic retellings (and have a MG [Middle Grade] novel draft set in Sami culture that I put aside because I decided I was not the person to tell it).  As someone who has devoted my life to the study of the ancient Mediterranean cultures (I have my PhD in Classics, with a dissertation on Ancient Greek religion, have lived and done research in Greece, and currently teach Greek, Latin, and myth), I have decided that I am a right person to write the stories I’m writing. Some of the other non-Greek re-tellers of Greek myth come from a similar background as Classicists (Madeline Miller, for example).

Yet I would love to see more Greek writers retelling their myths (and getting book deals to do so). Manusos mentioned The Threads that Bind by Kika Hatzopoulou as a good place to start. I happen to have just started that book after reading a review of it on The Mary Sue that focused on it as a climate change novel (I’m not yet far enough in to say more yet).

But beyond the big, familiar ancient myths, I’d love to see more obscure tales, even post-Classical folktales getting their due. Manusos also quotes Natalia Theodoridou

Some of us have been told that the mythological figures we’re interested in retelling are too obscure for American audiences. I hope publishers are brave enough to be willing to venture beyond the well-trodden occasionally. Perhaps we just need to have more faith in readers’ ability to cope with the unfamiliar.

I recall Roger Zelazny drawing on the kalikantzaros folktales in his This Immortal (itself an interesting look on balancing the interests of contemporary living societies with preserving the antiquities/heritage beneath – an issue Greece has to deal with when new building projects require emergency archaeology first). Greek culture doesn’t end with antiquity and I’d love to see the post-Classical myths also getting their due, especially by Greek writers.

And for publishers who worry about taking on more “obscure for American audiences” myth or folktale, I have four words: Guardians of the Galaxy. Or maybe just one word: Ant-man. Both obscure before being drawn in by the MCU. Surely the GMU (Greek Myth Universe) can draw in well done, more “obscure” tales.

 

SEL and Teaching Writing

Even before the pandemic, young people were struggling with anxiety and other issues of emotional self-regulation. In 2019, I was at a Learning and the Brain conference on “Educating with Empathy.” One of the speakers was refuting the argument that stats on such issues in young people are up just because people are more open about seeking mental health help and more open talking about such problems. They pointed out that the staggering increase in suicide deaths among adolescents indicates the overall rise is, sadly, not just a matter of reporting. The pandemic has only aggravated that.  Social and emotional learning thus is more important than ever (though sadly in some circles has become a political buzz word).

When I help students move their stories to “show, not tell,” one side benefit is to help them increase awareness of their own physical reactions to emotions. Such self awareness is a first step in improving their self-regulation. I experienced something similar in a racial literacy workshop by Howard Stevenson, who walked participants through what they were feeling in various parts of their body as part of his method to help “people learn how to read, recast, and resolve racially tinged episodes.”

So as the student-writer moves from tell (“She was absolutely furious as she thought about what he’d said.”) to show (“Her hands trembled and she balled them into fists at her sides as his words rolled around in her mind.”), they are reflecting on how emotions live in the body and on their own emotional experiences. They can then employ this greater awareness and use it to respond to those physical reactions as a way to calm the emotions that underlie them (unball the fists – indeed, start at your head and feel for tension in each part of your body and try to relax those muscles). And thinking about how to describe emotions through the physical responses rather than open exposition makes them better writers.

A little Labor Day baking

School starts this week and I thought I’d whip up some cookies to welcome my advisees and colleagues back. I’m going to make three of my favorites: Chocolate Chip Oatmeal with Ras el-hanout (NYTimes Cooking; paywall warning), Ginger Molasses Amber Ale (King Arthur Baking), and Salted Rosemary Shortbread.

Ras el-hanout was a real revelation for me because it is usually associated with savory cooking, but lends such a wonderful warmth and depth of flavor to the Chocolate Chip Oatmeal cookies. Like chili powder blends, every one is a different. Literally, the name means “top of the shop,” i.e. a blend of the best spices a merchant has to offer. I like the blend from Stock+Spice in NH.

In the ginger cookies, no alcohol remains: you reduce the 12oz of ale down to 1.5 oz. by boiling. The reduced ale adds a little bitter under-taste that pairs perfectly with the molasses and ginger. People often can’t believe that the ginger cookies contain (golden) raisins, but it adds to the flavor and chew.

And the rosemary shortbread doesn’t have a specific recipe. I use the basic shortbread recipe from the King Arthur Cookies Cookbook (an old edition), but any basic shortbread recipe you like would do. I finely mince the rosemary and mix it with the sugar and butter and then put Maldon’s sea salt flakes (crushed between my fingers) on the bottom before baking. The idea came from some Lark cookies that my mother bought.

Pictures of all three (from past bakes) can be seen on my baking site.

Epic: The Trojan Saga album

Yep, I’m still stuck on The Odyssey. Here’s something fun for the holiday weekend. My colleague who shared this with me said “It’s like… amateur Hamilton-style songs about the Odyssey.” From the video’s own description: 

EPIC is a work-in-progress musical. It has 2 out of 9 sagas released currently, the Troy Saga and the Cyclops Saga. Jorge Rivera-Herrans posts snippets of the unreleased sagas on his TikTok. This video compiles all the songs and snippets in chronological order.

This compilation is about an hour and half long, but has links in the comments below it on YouTube where you can leap into different “chapters.” 

Nota Bene: For the beginning clips, the video just shows the album covers, but starting with the chapter “Storm,” you get videos of performs (many Zoom-esque TikToks, but sometimes on the beach or other appropriate settings). I was listening to it (and enjoying it) while on another screen, so I didn’t catch the changeover at first. 

The cover up is always worse

Whether it’s folks who find themselves in a bit of a misunderstanding or someone engaged in something more intentionally nefarious, why don’t people learn that the cover up is usually worse than the original mistake or crime? Think of Martha Stewart and the SEC. Or Trump and the National Archives. And now the Cleveland Museum of Art. They’ve had a beautiful (albeit headless) Roman bronze statue since the 1980’s which has now been seized as part of a criminal investigation into looted and smuggled antiquities. Perhaps the Cleveland Museum were unwitting participants in this. Perhaps it is understandable that they dismissed Turkey’s claims about the statue as Turkey couldn’t provide evidence. However, this part of the NYTimes article (link will get you past the paywall for the next 30 days) caught my eye.

Turkey’s claim on the statue hinged in part on persuading investigators that the statue in fact depicted Marcus Aurelius, because the stone plinth where they say it had stood is inscribed with that emperor’s name.

The Cleveland museum’s website had until recently described the statue as “The Emperor as Philosopher, probably Marcus Aurelius (reigned AD 161-180),” adding that the item had originated from “Turkey, Bubon(?) (in Lycia), Roman, late 2nd Century.” They also wrote in an accompanying description that the statue “likely represents Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor known for his philhellenism and Stoic writings.” (Aurelius wrote “Meditations,” a classic work on Stoic philosophy.)

But several weeks ago, the museum removed the earlier references to Turkey and Aurelius and changed the website to read: “Draped Male Figure, c. 150 BCE-200 CE,” adding, “Roman or possibly Greek Hellenistic.” It also altered the language of its accompanying description to read “without a head, inscription, or other attributes, the identity of the figure represented remains unknown.”

Will folks never learn?

Still on an Odyssey kick

One of my favorite receptions of The Odyssey is Romare Bearden’s collage series. If you are unfamiliar with Bearden, he was a mid-20th century African-American artist. He had played around with The Iliad earlier in print form (late 1940’s-early 1950’s). In his Odyssey series, he not only draws in Homer, but also the influences of Matisse and other artists such as Robert S. Duncan (a 19th cent. African-American landscape painter) and his Land of the Lotus Eaters. Below are two great videos on this series from a Smithsonian touring exhibition of them.

Romare Bearden Black Odyssey (15 min.)
Wallach Art Gallery Visit with Robert O’Meally and Diedra Harris-Kelley

A moment of joy

I think Wednesdays deserve a moment of joy. I’m going to try and post one each Wednesday, start with this: the Linus and Lucy song from Charlie Brown. I don’t think anyone can be unhappy listening to it. I told my sophomore homeroom I had such a song and they looked at me cynically …until it started playing.