Immersive retelling of Ancient Greek myth

Ariadne by Jennifer Saint

As Princesses of Crete and daughters of the fearsome King Minos, Ariadne and her sister Phaedra grow up hearing the hoofbeats and bellows of the Minotaur echo from the Labyrinth beneath the palace. The Minotaur – Minos’s greatest shame and Ariadne’s brother – demands blood every year. When Theseus, Prince of Athens, arrives in Crete as a sacrifice to the beast, Ariadne falls in love with him. But helping Theseus kill the monster means betraying her family and country, and Ariadne knows only too well that in a world ruled by mercurial gods, drawing their attention can cost you everything. In a world where women are nothing more than the pawns of powerful men, will Ariadne’s decision to betray Crete for Theseus ensure her happy ending? Or will she find herself sacrificed for her lover’s ambition?

This book follows in the footsteps of Circe and The Silence of the Girls, continuing the recent trend of retellings of Ancient Greek myths. While it lacks some of the power of these previous novels, Ariadne is nevertheless an immersive, atmospheric book.

It’s a story that’s very much concerned with the powerlessness of women in a society that sees them only as wives and mothers. Though Ariadne and Phaedra are princesses, they are confined to the palace, knowing that their father holds their futures in the palm of his hand. At any moment he can decide that it is time for them to marry, and they will be forced to board a ship and sail away from everything they know, to spend the rest of their lives with a man they’ve never met before.

As well as being subject to the whims of men, the two princesses are also under threat from the will of the gods. They both know only too well that lives can be destroyed when gods get bored.

The problem with this book is that it’s billed as a feminist retelling, but there’s really not a whole lot of feminism to be had here (minor spoilers ahead). After a key decision made at the start of the novel, Ariadne spends the rest of the book either standing still or caught up in someone else’s plans. The message seems to be ‘this is a world in which bad things happen to women’, and I really wanted something to happen to break that pattern.

It’s a shame, because this is otherwise a beautifully written and atmospheric book. If you enjoyed other recent Greek retellings, no doubt you’ll enjoy this one too – just don’t get too hung up on the ‘feminist’ label.

Riot and revolution in 16th century France

The Burning Chambers by Kate Mosse

‘A war of faith is always about more than faith.’

Carcassonne, 1562. Minou Joubert receives an anonymous letter at her father’s bookshop. Sealed with a distinctive family crest, it contains just five words: SHE KNOWS THAT YOU LIVE. But before Minou can decipher the mysterious message, a chance encounter with a young Huguenot convert, Piet Reydon, changes her destiny forever. For Piet has a dangerous mission of his own, and he will need Minou’s help if he is to get out of La Cité alive.

I’m a big fan of Mosse’s work (particularly her gothic standalone novel The Taxidermist’s Daughter) and in her latest book she returns to the Languedoc setting she explored so vividly in her previous trilogy (Labyrinth, Sepulchre, Citadel).

Mosse excels at bringing the past to life. The vivid details of the medieval city in Carcassonne and, later, the beauties of Toulouse create a vibrant portrait of two cities on the brink of riot and revolution. Mosse examines the increasing conflicts between Catholics and Huguenots (Protestants), the double-crossing and betrayals taking place against the backdrop of momentous religious change.

This book is not without its flaws. My biggest problem is the romance between Minou and Piet. Mosse has clearly put a lot of thought and care into the creation of this story, and it feels at times as though the romance element was an afterthought. Our two main characters fall in love at first sight and can’t stop thinking about each other – even though they’ve only exchanged a few sentences.

My other problem is one that I have found to be common in Mosse’s work. She seems overly keen to show off her mastery of obscure French languages and likes to drop in words and phrases wherever she can. It makes for an increasingly frustrating reading experience.

Readers unfamiliar with the time period may find it a bit confusing to keep up with everything Mosse throws at the story, but where she excels is not so much with the large-scale political events but how those events impact the everyday lives of ordinary men and women.

Mosse creates a thrilling portrait of life in a country where no one is safe, where everyone is a suspect and even the innocent can be arrested and tortured into confessing. She weaves a series of different storylines together to create a varied and impressive portrait of a country at war with itself.

I would highly recommend this book to historical fiction fans for its incredible setting and Mosse’s ability to inject colour into the past. The Burning Chambers is the first in a new series (a prologue set in 19^th century South Africa hints tantalisingly at what is to come) and I will definitely be picking up the sequel when it’s released.