I’ve found it hard to get away from the attraction that Greek myths have held for me. Ever since the morning I opened a thin black volume, containing easy-to-read paraphrases of Greek myths, I’ve been absolutely fascinated with the stories that always played with high stakes–stories that quite often (and usually more often than not) ended with a devastating tragedy.
The unfairness of life was captured here. The plight of a mortal at the mercy of a powerful and capricious god was here. The endless journey and sacrifice for the sake of love was here. The magic was here.
And so I begin. I open the tomes before me. Twenty lines spans twenty years, and I keep asking myself why Heracles killed his wife and was still a hero, why lovely Helen allowed Troy to be pillaged and gutted without flinching (or did she?), and why the Sirens allowed Odysseus’s ship to pass their island if they were such seasoned pros.
I use my pen and my voice to seek answers to these questions.
