THE RAPE OF PERSEPHONE

A novel offers a literary reimagining of the Greek myth of Persephone and the way she becomes a pawn in a war fought among the gods.

In 1694 B.C.E., Kore is the daughter of Demeter, the high priestess of Knossos, destined to follow in her mother’s footsteps and live the holy life. She is also the offspring of the god Zeus, “the Liberator, King of Kings,” and she runs away from home to find him in Olympus. Only 16 years old, she boards a cargo ship bound for Pylos, but the vessel is overtaken by a massive wave that hurls it into Cape Matapan; Kore survives, though most of the crew members do not. Meanwhile, Knossos is all but destroyed by a catastrophic earthquake, and before realizing Kore has fled, Demeter anxiously searches for her in the rubble that remains in the wake of the disaster. When Hades, the high king of Erebus, known as “the Unseen” and the “Dark Zeus,” learns of Kore’s existence, he sees an opportunity to gain leverage within an internecine conflict among the gods, a “standoff between kings.” Hades longs to bring Alcides, now known as Heracles, to justice for terrible crimes, but he is the son of Zeus and falls under his protection. Hades realizes that possessing Kore—rechristened Persephone by Poseidon—is a considerable bargaining chip.

In this first volume of a trilogy, Brillhart digs deep into the mythological tale, inventively exploiting the novelistic opportunity contained in the hollows of the story’s tradition. The author’s command of the mythology is magisterial—she deftly weaves together a tale that revolves around the commerce between gods and humans as well as a brewing civil war among the immortals. And Kore is a beguiling character—somehow both childishly innocent and profoundly dark, a complex mélange of compellingly contradictory attributes. Moreover, Brillhart puts real flesh on the skeleton of a story most only know partially—Hades is more than the lord of the underworld; he is a figure capable of longing, fear, and pride. Unfortunately, the plot ambles at an unhurried, even languid pace, its longueurs threatening the patience of readers. In addition, the prose often lacks buoyancy and nimbleness. One can’t criticize the author too severely for the tale’s humorlessness—literary comedy is a rare gift—but her ponderous writing at times makes the book feel like an official pronouncement by some key authority. Even physical descriptions can be extravagant; consider this account of Kore: “First, the daughter of Zeus. Sun-bronzed hair, twisted into a coil and draped over one sleek shoulder. Skin the same shade of bronze. The white silk of her chiton pulls taut across large, round breasts and tighter at hips that swell from a gold-roped waist as small around as his thigh.” Still, Brillhart’s stylistic vices do not ultimately undermine the power of the story to thoughtfully entertain.

A creative and enjoyable rendering of a familiar mythological tale.