Orphia and Eurydicius is a gender-bent retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. However, even if you are familiar with the myth whether it be from Edith Hamilton, Hadestown, or Hozier adjacent, this novelization offers a fresh perspective and more background insight into Ophia’s other roles in Greek mythology as a Hero. Just be aware that though this might be marketed as a romance novel except less steamy – think of Katee Robert’s Dark Olympus series or even the webcomic Lore Olympus – this novel is steeped in academia with its own personal minor in gender studies. There are sex (more like love) scenes and darker elements (mentions of rape and sexual assault, graphic depictions of torture and death), but there are also philosophical discussions that cause the novel to drag. So, while this is interesting, what is roughly 384 pages could have been done in around 180. Try a different Greek retelling – especially if you want a focus on girl power – by picking a canon female character like Jennifer Saint’s Elektra or Atalanta, or Madeline Miller’s Circe, or Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad (Penelope from the Odyssey), or Claire North’s Ithaca, or even a translation of Homer’s Odysseus by a woman like Emily Wilson.
What I like about this novel is that it does more than just show Orphia’s quest to the Underworld, but also Ophia’s role in Jason’s quest for the Golden Fleece. Orphia is an argonaut, by all means, but she does not spend nearly as long on that quest as she should have. The novel also immediately raises the stakes within the first 40 pages by introducing a Greek god. Not a lot of Greek retelling ovels showcase the gods as real so much as metaphors for nature or fate. For example, a novel like Claire Heywood’s Daughters of Sparta explains Helen of Sparta’s godly conception as code for “Her mother was raped by someone besides her husband, and the only reason we don’t care is because Helen is beautiful.” No such chops here as the gods are characters on the page actively interfering with the plot, which makes sense to me.
There is also a lot of beautiful prose, naturally, since Orphia is poetically and musically inclined as a heroine anyway. I did get major Hozier vibes such as “I would know you in pitch darkness…I have known you in a grave, where the earth kisses our bones and caresses our flesh…I will know you after death, always at the end of the world” (384). The sappiness is enjoyable because of how the gender performances are swapped with the main couple.
To continue that idea of gender being a performance, I also enjoyed the reinterpretation of women through Orphia’s eyes, like when she meets Medea or when she discusses women like Pandora or Helen of Sparta/Troy or Medusa. Orphia is a bisexual, butch-leaning woman, sometimes even androgenous in appearance. Her lover Eurydicius is a bisexual femboy as well (bottom, too). The reader does not even have to read between the lines to know it as the main couple discusses their preferences together as they are surprised at their love and attraction. Both Orphia and Eurydicius “share the same queer spirit” (209).
The prevalent homosexuality is acknowledged in the novel, though it is quick to point out that in a patriarchal society, relationships between men are a means to an end for relief rather than for love, and anyone who takes it further is an idiot. For example, one notable Greek hero is in a relationship with another man, but “the law only allowed for certain circumstances; young men who took up a mentorship, both physical and spiritual, were still expected to marry later on” (186). The author takes this a step further by pointing out the hypocrisy for women. Not only must they remain virginal for their expected husbands, but they should not even lie with other women. Women conspiring together in any fashion is dangerous.
However, this is when the novel starts to sour for me because it gets too academic. Again, it is hard to critique and review the novel without comparing it to other Greek retellings. It is not like it is apples to oranges as they are very much all apples. Comparatively, though, this novel is a green apple among red apples because of the gender-bent quality. Therefore, the author sounds like someone who continually must justify why she did not choose to keep Orpheus and Eurydice as they were. For example, in the text, Orphia has a quiet realization of her feelings when she says “As women… we are taught to receive the suits of men. In every story, a bride is swept away by the man who falls in love with her. She gives herself up to his authority” (153). This explains Elyse John’s reasoning of writing Orphia and Eurydicius instead so that they are seen as equals rather than Eurydice as a prize for Orpheus to prove himself a hero.
However, I do not think we have to have things so overly written or explained. The novel follows Orphia from young adulthood. It mentions in passing one of her trysts with a woman. I see no reason why we cannot see her have a relationship with a woman even if she is not Eurydicius because as a romance novel, I want to know what makes Eurydicius so special, what makes him the One for her as they discuss.
Lastly, while this novel does get graphic and brutally honest in some ways, the action lacks. I know this mythology is not the Iliad or Odyssey, but more could have been done. Even when the gods flex their power, I think it lacks severely. For example, in Claire North’s novel Ithaca, which has Hera as the narrator observing the Odysseus’ Island while he is lost at sea, Hera can only interfere so much, but she has a hand of fate. In this novel, Hera guides and points and explains more than acts compared to other gods. Those minor issues aside, if you are someone academically inclined, this is for you. If you do enjoy Greek myth retellings, this could be for you. That being said, know that you do have options like those named in this review. Check those first.
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by The Librarian
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