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Such sharp-tongued feminist insight into a library of classical tales. True to the details and bursting with character, respectful of the classical context, and even the Classical Authors (Ovid, Homer, Virgil, etc.), this novel exposes each woman, revealing her inner conflicts and delights, her vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and cravings—and we are permitted to enter all of their minds and experiences intimately. A refreshingly impressive new look at a centuries-old tale, retold and rediscovered with each new telling.

This particular telling brings the varied women and goddesses of the story to life in a way we’ve wondered about, imagined in our own wandering minds as we’ve listened to the men go on about their multiple conquests and victories, suffered their penchant for using women as objects of similar conquest or momentary satisfaction—despite the equal treatment many of the ancient authors dedicated to the warrior women and embittered mothers and revenge-seeking sisters and petulant goddesses. And even though we know the end for all these women already, we delight in the new colourful insights this novel brings to an old and established perspective.

“A war does not ignore half the people whose lives it touches, so why should we?�

Sing, Muse�

If Haynes writes more on these (and others not featured here) various diverse women’s perspectives, I will read it. Easy to digest, educational, imaginative, and engaging; peppered with humour and misery that instantly draws us near to endear these characters.

As the author confesses in the Afterword, I’m in agreement: I, too, will miss Cassandra the most (and the sarky but resigned bite of Penelope)...