Medusa’s Sisters by Lauren Bear

I am generally not super into fantasy/folklore. I tend to prefer literary fiction but I’m easily hooked by a good story and compelling characters. And like every fantasy book I’ve ever loved—Neil Gaiman’s American Gods for instance—there is nothing non-literary about Medusa’s Sisters. This is literature. Bear writes so beautifully and with such pristine knowledge of the universe her characters inhabit that I have no trouble buying into the fantastical world of gods and monsters and empathizing with their very real and very human motivations and desires.  

This novel is about exactly what its title suggests: the two lesser-known Gorgons who were overshadowed by the legend of their sister, a name we all know—Medusa, the snake-haired monster who turns men to stone. It’s common knowledge in the canon that Athena cursed Medusa, but the details leading up to the titular event hadn’t been explored this deeply until Lauren Bear and her brilliant imagination entered the scene.

The story begins with Medusa’s death and works backwards to fill in the story that led to her heartbreaking fate. It unfolds from the point of view of Medusa’s two sisters, Stheno and Euryale, Stheno in first person and Euryale in third. I’m curious about this decision to bring the reader closer to Stheno, as each sister is just as compelling and crucial to the story as the other. I did find it handy as I read though, especially in the first couple chapters as I was getting oriented to the world and its many inhabitants. The Cast of Characters at the beginning of the book was so helpful for me; I flipped back to it often. Leto? Who the heck is Leto? Ah, goddess of motherhood. That makes sense.

This book fills the gaps and enhances the Gorgons’ story, but it does so for more than fun. Like most everything in this world—our world I mean—mythology is innately patriarchal. Medusa’s Sisters is a a fiercely feminist tale that gives a voice to the women whose stories were silenced— never written nor considered at all. It’s also an unabashed celebration of women who love women, and the various profound ways women can love each other. There are so many wonderful subplots in this book, my favourite of which is perhaps the most feminist one of all, in an ironic sense: Erastus “The Artist” in Athens who is actually just a figurehead for the real talent, his wife, Ligeia, who composes all the music her husband is famous for. I love this. Even in ancient mythology, women weren’t allowed to flourish freely.

Bear’s writing style is heavy with foreshadowing in a way that’s insanely addictive, especially with so many chapters ending with sentences like this:

“We should have seen the experience for the warning it was—the cowardice of lovers and the creative range of vengeance when the wronged hold infinite power. But we didn't, and that is our shame.”

How is one supposed to stop reading with chapters ending like that? Seriously. I devoured this beautiful book and I will devour everything Lauren Bear writes. Her next book, Mother of Rome, is out next year.

I have no doubt Medusa’s Sisters will join the canon of mythology and will be read, remembered, and revered forever.

Order it from your favourite indie bookstore or local library <3

Rough by Robin van eck

I finished Robin van Eck’s 2020 novel Rough weeks ago and the story still hasn’t left me. Set around the 2013 floods in Calgary, this story is not about the flood, but about displacement, loss, and grief. The Shermeto family went through unthinkable trauma, resulting in the patriarch (our protagonist) choosing to be homeless rather than face his own family and in turn, his own grief. Interesting then, that in the end, a natural disaster put the wheels of his healing in motion, and ultimately it was family who cauterized the wound.

van Eck has a real knack for page-turning prose—this was one of those books I had a hard time putting down. The stakes are high and there is a thriller-esque aspect I won’t spoil, but had me on the edge of my seat, especially in the last half.

Another thing I loved about this book is the choices the author made regarding setting. The setting (Calgary) and the circumstance affecting the setting (the 2013 flood) are treated as characters themselves, a decision you know was carefully made and beautifully executed. Personifying the river was a bold but highly effective choice; I wish more authors would take creative risks like this.

van Eck treats Shermeto (who in this dual POV novel, in my opinion, is the star of the show) with such compassion and balance it really makes you think about the way society treats the less fortunate.

The ending was satisfying and believable—not happy, but inevitable. I read somewhere recently that a novel’s ending should match the rest of the book in its tone, and that, van Eck pulled off perfectly.

The only thing I can say that might have improved the reading experience for me is that the editing got a little sloppy toward the end—I caught a few minor typos in the last few chapters (this is no fault of the author’s though.) All in all—I loved this book and can’t wait to read more from this up-and-coming Canadian author.  

Order it from your favourite indie bookstore or local library <3

Sage Island by Samantha Warwick

You know those authors who can do it all? Compelling characters, strong narrative with high stakes, a rich sense of place, AND breathtaking prose? Samantha Warwick is one of those authors. Every single sentence in her gorgeous novel Sage Island—a deep dive (pun intended) into women’s competitive swimming in 1920s America—feels so well considered, each word so artfully placed. To demonstrate, I’ll pick a random page, close my eyes and point to a sentence. Here goes. 

Page 128: “An orchestra was playing slow jazzy songs somewhere in the vicinity; brass and piano streamed and whirled in musical eddies.” 

Let’s try another one. Page 75: “She motions for me to come over, but still agitated by her rumour-mongering, I stay where I am, sitting on a flat rock by the fire, and watch the last of daylight disappear into an obsidian sky.” 

How about one more? Page 212. “The monotonous repetition of stroking through wild, open water—a primal sense of peace, cleansing atonement, the peeling, stripping, moulting out of myself, out of my skin, an estrangement from all things human, societal constraints, expectations, the disease of materialism, sex.” 

I’m telling you, I could do this all day. There is not a single throwaway sentence in this entire book. In this way, her writing reminds me of one of my all-time favourite authors, Ann Patchett. Warwick’s writing ticks all my boxes the same way Patchett’s does. When you embark on a novel by either of these two brilliant writers, you become truly invested in the characters as you’re expertly led through a cohesive, compelling story adorned by ornate (but not gratuitously so) prose. 

And yet, Warwick’s style is distinctly her own. She deals with structure and plays with time in such a clever way. In this book, the protagonist Savanna’s story unfolds over two braided timelines: Savi before the Channel race and Savi during and after. It’s such an exciting way to tell a story; the reader has a sort of power over past Savi, knowing where she’ll end up, but also a deep curiosity about what brought her to present day.

I love everything about this book. Read it, will you? I promise, no interest in long-distance swimming required. Just an awesome story, beautifully told. <3 Get it from your favourite indie bookstore or your local library.