Download Her Kind: Stories of Women from Greek Mythology by Jane Cahill PDF

By Jane Cahill

Medea betrayed her father and left her place of origin for the affection of Jason. Then whilst he deserted her, she murdered her young children. yet did she? And what of Clytemnestra, the conniving adulteress? For ten years she plotted the homicide of her husband Agamemnon, King of Mycenae and Conqueror of Troy. How could she have informed her tale?

The Greek myths as we all know them have been informed for males by way of males. but they have been the fruits of a protracted oral culture within which either women and men shared. utilizing extant historical literary resources as her consultant, together with the works of Homer, Aeschylus, Euripides and Apollodorus, Jane Cahill reconstructs the tales as they could were advised to girls via ladies. those are tales of wronged ladies, encouraged girls, decided girls, soft ladies. Medusa tells the way it is to grasp that one examine her face will flip a guy to stone, to be hated and feared for all time. Jocasta, Queen of Thebes, confesses her love for the younger guy who got here to cave her urban from the Sphinx―her son, Oedipus.

every one tale is followed through vast notes which debate the traditional assets, clarify appropriate Greek strategies and customs, and function a consultant to additional interpreting.

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Page viii Contents Preface ix Introduction 1 1 Philomela's story 21 2 Clytemnestra's story 34 3 Jocasta's story 51 4 Medusa's story 69 5 Eriphyle's story 76 6 Ino's story 91 7 Procris' story 109 8 Althaea's story 124 9 Myrrha's story 137 10 Hypermnestra's story 147 11 Danaë's story 169 12 Thetis' story 184 13 Medea's story 199 Appendix: Adapting stories for oral telling: Medusa revisited 223 Page ix Preface There is a certain tension, I have found, in being both a classicist and a storyteller.

I waited till the festival day of Dionysus, a time when women are together in their minds. 19 On the night of your festival, Dionysus, I dressed in the robes I kept for you, wound ivy in my hair in your honour, draped the skin of a newly slaughtered deer on my shoulders. In my hand I held a spear, sharp for the killing. As the moon drove high in the sky in her carriage, the trance came upon me and the madness. I danced into the hills; I danced death to men, I danced terror to my husband. My heart was full.

PROCNE: You were there, weren't you? We did it together. 26 PHILOMELA: Yes, I was there. Blood on my hands. Look, sister, look. PROCNE: I served Tereus his supper that night. He sat alone in the dining hall and I brought him his food myself. He did not know what he ate.  . well flavoured and tender. He asked for more. PHILOMELA: He was surprised, wasn't he, when I came into the dining hall? He didn't expect to see me there. I brought him his son's head, all wet with death-slime. I held it up to his face.

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