Guest post written by Medusa’s Sister author Lauren J. A. Bear
Lauren J. A. Bear was born in Boston and raised in Long Beach. After studying English at UCLA and education at LMU, she taught middle-school humanities for over a decade—and survived! She is a teaching fellow for the Holocaust Center for Humanity and lives in Seattle with her husband and three young children. She likes crossword puzzles and being on or near the water without getting wet. Learn more at www.laurenjabear.com or follow Bear on social media.
Medusa’s Sister is a vivid and moving reimagining of the myth of Medusa and the sisters who loved her and out now.
Back when I was teaching fifth grade in LA, I asked my students to name a Shakespeare play. One boy raises his hand. “The Lion King?” he offers, and the class breaks into giggles. I quickly came to his defense. “Timmy’s right,” I said (and yes, his name was actually Timmy). “The Lion King is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet.” Twenty little jaws dropped.
Retelling stories is not a new trend. We’ve been doing it for as long as we’ve been telling stories, which goes all the way back to the campfire. If it’s not human nature by now, revising and revisiting the stories we’ve been told is certainly an ingrained human habit. It’s how we bring the past with us into the future, amending and translating old tales for a modern audience. We change, add, delete, pivot, and reinterpret, both to answer old questions and ask new ones.
Simply put, stories must adapt as humans do to survive.
Writers are readers, first and foremost, and the more you read, the better you write. I will die on this hill. Medusa’s Sisters would not exist without the novels listed below. Ten formative favorites that changed the way I think about point of view, perspective, and the way we change stories as we evolve.
Grendel by John Gardner (1971) – A retelling of Beowolf
How could I not begin this list with Grendel, the earliest villain in one of civilization’s earliest texts, the great antihero to the great hero? And Gardner handles the story in such a literary fashion. The language is so tight, every word earns its place on the page, and he so succinctly captures the confusion and rage of being a monster in a hero’s world. Golden lines abound, like this gem: “Nothing was changed, everything was changed, by my having seen the dragon.” It’s a must-read for anyone who loves an antagonist.
Ahab’s Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund (1999) – A retelling of Moby Dick
This is a novel I still think about all the time. As the kids say, it lives rent free in my brain. I mean, the love triangles! The lighthouse! The absolutely masterful fictionalization of the Essex tragedy! CANNIBALS. Ahab’s nameless wife occupies less than a paragraph of space in Melville’s tome, but Naslund creates an entire epic for Una. And as Una so slyly puts it, Ahab was “neither my first husband nor my last.” If anything, he’s a footnote in her history. Obsessed.
Lavinia by Ursula Le Guin (2008) – A retelling of the Aeneid
Ursula Le Guin is my personal hero and everything she does is perfect, but this novel is especially poignant. She brings Lavinia, the second wife of the Trojan hero, Aeneas, to life with seriousness and lyricality, with tenderness and strength. It’s a story about family, sacrifice, and legacy, and witnessing Lavinia’s indomitable spirit is honestly an empowering experience for the reader, as well. Pure catharsis and inspiration. Furthermore, the incorporation of “the poet” (Virgil) into the narrative was *chef’s kiss.*
March by Geraldine Brooks (2005) – A retelling of Little Women
Like so many other little girls, I wanted to be Jo March when I grew up. And just like so many others, I gave little to no thought to the mostly absent Mr. March – that is, until masterful Geraldine Brooks tackled his story. I love how she gave him a more complex narrative versus the simplistic idolization of him in the original text. And in my humble opinion, Geraldine Brooks wrote the textbook on good historical fiction. Her research is impeccable; I will read anything she writes.
The Testament of Mary by Colm Tóibín (2012) – A retelling of the New Testament
For many, the topic of this book might feel blasphemous, but to me, it humanizes one of the holiest. It is that alchemical combination of gorgeous prose and authentic plot and characterization. Pure gold. This is Mary’s story, mother of Jesus of Nazareth, and her perspective on his life and death. This isn’t the Mary I learned about in Sunday school, but personally, I feel more connected to the past when its people feel real. With multiple Booker nominations to his name, there is no question Tóibín is one of today’s most illustrious writer. (Also, I would add House of Names to this list – Tóibín’s version of the Oresteia – for its masterful portrayal of vengeance.)
The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman (2011) – A retelling of the works of Josephus
I love the way Alice Hoffman writes historical fiction and fantasy with such rich female characters. This novel, set in ancient Judea and based on historical record, is no exception. We get four fierce protagonists — mothers, sisters, lovers, warriors and witches – who all play an integral part in the Siege of Masada, a climactic event towards the end of the first Jewish war against Rome. It’s seductive and rebellious, a thrill from beginning to end, and a love letter to both determination and freedom.
Miranda and Caliban by Jacqueline Carey (2017) – A retelling of The Tempest
A Shakespearean retelling that centers both a female character and a shady secondary one? What’s not to love? By fleshing out boring, one-dimensional archetypes – the dutiful daughter, the misshapen other – Carey tells us what was really going down on that island while Prospero plotted his revenge. It’s the tale we know, but with even more dark magic, subversive acts, and tragic love. I believe Jacqueline Carey is one of the most imaginative in the SFF game, period, and it’s such a joy to read her interpretative work of the Shakespearean space.
Heartless by Marissa Meyer (2016) – A retelling of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Meyer is one my favorite YA authors, and this retelling tackles two of my favorites topics: villains and children’s literature. This is the Queen of Hearts’s origin story, how sweet Catherine Pinkerton meets a court joker named Jest who changes her world completely. It’s romantic and whimsical, filled with baked goods and the memorably quirky characters of Wonderland. But of course, there is heartbreak. With Heartless, readers get to empathize with a tyrant — a girl with the best of intentions who loses everything and finds cruelty.
The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey (2000) – A retelling of the Russian fairy tale, “Snegurochka”
This is another novel I still think about all the time. In the folklore version, two childless Russian peasants build a snow girl who comes to life. Ivey recreates this story with magical realism. In the early 20th century, a mysterious child emerges from the Alaskan wilderness. When she finds a home with a lonely frontier couple, everyone is changed. The setting is so beautifully constructed — the swans and woods and snow and fox. It’s a lovely, poignant novel about love and the power of transformation.
The Wrath and the Dawn by Renee Ahdieh (2015) – A retelling of Arabian Nights
This book, the first in a YA duology, updates the legend of the original storyteller, Scheherazade, for a new audience. In this book, brave Shazi marries the murderous young Caliph, Khalid, and enters a world of high-stakes politics and dangerous romance. She’s smart and sexy and savvy, a protagonist to root for! I especially appreciate how this work provides access to a vibrant mythology that is so underrepresented in both education and traditional publishing.
And one last thing before I sign off! There are so many writers doing this work well right now (ie. Genevieve Gornichec, Jamilla Ahmed, Vaishnavi Patel, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Olesya Salnikova Gilmore, Megan Barnard), but I only included books on my list that I read before I became a full-time writer, the books that influenced the creation of Medusa’s Sisters.
I hope I’ve inspired your TBR just a bit. I know mine is longer than a CVS receipt.
