There was much to enjoy here, but I found I couldn't connect with it. I'd read more from this author in the future though.

I liked Bright Air Black, but it's not an easy read. It's definitely the very essence of 'literary fiction', with its beautiful, complex prose, rather than a modern uptake, which was what I had been expecting.

A beautifully written book tackling the Medea myth. OMG, the prose is absolutely gorgeous. From the writing alone, this would get ALL the stars. However, the only inkling that bothered me was Medea's ability to just leave it all behind for Jason - why? WHY? I think this could've been better developed. The writing more than made up for this tiny little flaw.

This book was hard for me to get interested. This is because it is told in present tense. It is also because it reads like a poem than a novel. I also could not feel for Medea. She seemed distant. Still, it was very beautiful and vivid writing. I honestly wished that I enjoyed it more for the has talent.

Absolutely brilliant. I had a bit of difficulty getting into it but once I was centered, it was vivid and engaging. The idea of telling a story from Medea's point of view was remarkable. There are images that I will always remember. I want to read more by this author.

A beautiful epic poem, forming a portrait of the fascinating mythological woman, Medea. The prose moves slowly, and yet it is full of energy and excitement. It was sometimes difficult to follow, but the words are meant to be savoured. This is an exciting new work that will inspire more people to learn about ancient mythology and its surprising humanity.

Classical-style tragedy is nothing new in David Vann’s fiction. Starting with “Legend of a Suicide” (2008), he has built a solid reputation for bleak, violent stories of family breakdown, typically set in Alaska or on the Pacific coast.

His previous book, “Aquarium” (2015), about a young girl’s dysfunctional home and sexual awakening, retreated from brutality, whereas his sixth novel, “Bright Air Black,” thrusts us into the thick of it with a retelling of the myth of the witch Medea, best known via Euripides’ fifth-century B.C. play.

The novel opens in medias res and is full of references to gods and other legendary figures; if it’s been a while since you studied Greek mythology, you may well need a refresher course. You might remember that Medea, granddaughter of the sun god Helios, murders her two sons to avenge Jason’s betrayal, but that incident doesn’t appear until the very end of this book.

Instead, we open on the bloody tableau of Medea crouching over her dismembered brother Absyrtus’ remains.

When Jason and his Argonauts landed at Colchis to capture the Golden Fleece, Medea offered to help Jason complete the heroic tasks her father, King Aeëtes, required of him — if Jason promised to take her with him afterward.

Now, with the Fleece in Jason’s possession, the Argo is speeding back to Iolcus. To delay her father’s pursuit, Medea slit Absyrtus’ throat and is throwing his body overboard in pieces, knowing her father will slow down to collect the parts so he can give his son a proper burial.

This grisly scene is delivered in blunt, partial phrases, with articles and verbs generally pared away to create a sort of rough, often alliterative poetry: “Blood of the sun. My own blood, my own brother. I give you this. … Smell of blood and viscera, sacrifice. A smell she’s known all her life.”

That atavistic glorying in gore is a trademark of Mr. Vann’s work, particularly 2013’s “Goat Mountain,” but there’s an extra layer of nihilism here. Medea has lost faith in Hekate, whom she once served as a priestess; now there’s “no one to call on. Empty invocations.”

The long stretch between the opening scene and the “Argo” landing at Iolcus is an oddly monotonous swirl of battles and sex scenes. Upon arrival in his homeland, Jason and Medea are greeted by the new king, his Uncle Pelias, as slaves rather than as heroes.

Book Two recounts Medea’s two extravagant acts of revenge, one of which recalls “Titus Andronicus.”

The relentless present-tense narration, incomplete sentences, and lack of speech marks may represent resistance to traditional storytelling techniques, but simultaneously render the characters emotionally inaccessible.

Medea is lonely, clearly, but there’s no sufficient explanation for her irrational behavior. “Some deep need to kill and tear and taste more blood” merely reinforces the idea that she’s a monster.

A rare attempt to humanize her by having her second-guess her actions — “She did not need to kill her brother, perhaps. Difficult to know. We can never see the other path ”— ends up sounding absurd: Medea is a prophetess; foretelling outcomes is her duty.

It’s in applying timeless mythology to contemporary life that this author’s work has shone before. The almost complete contextlessness of “Bright Air Black” will likely be difficult for today’s readers, while the style — which starts off lyrical but quickly grows repetitive — and the echoing of stereotypes of Medea as (in Jason’s words) a “bitter woman, butcher, [and] barbarian” are problematic as well.

Strange that Mr. Vann’s most straightforward tribute to Greek tragedy should result in his least resonant and cathartic novel.

Bright Air Black by David Vann is a retelling of the myth of Medea, wife to Jason of Golden Fleece fame. It begins as Medea, Jason, and the Argonauts are fleeing from Medea's home, leaving parts of her dismembered brother's body in the water to distract her father. Throughout the book, we follow their journey, from fleeing her father to being enslaved and onwards to the chilling act completed by Medea at the end of her major myth. The story is told entirely from Medea's third person present point of view.

What I liked the most about this novel was the prose. It's beautiful. It flows like a poem, with all of the imagery associated with the medium. There are times of great gore and great suspense, but all are told with the same dreamy words. The story also recasts Medea, generally regarded as a villain, as a real woman with real dreams of power and freedom from her status as a woman in her society. She's still not altogether likable, and her journey's end is a bit rushed, but she's very real, and much less of an enchantress and sorceress than myth makes her out to be. At times, I could sympathize with her, but she wasn't my favorite character despite her strength and understandable yearnings.

All in all, the prose was pretty and the retelling was interesting, but something about this novel just did not work for me. I never really felt invested in the characters or their story. I didn't feel like there was a lot of depth to anything, even though we do get a glimpse inside Medea's psyche and grand plans. While this was likely by design, I just couldn't get into it. Also, there's a lot of divergence in time/scene, some abrupt cuts, and some stream of consciousness that got a wee bit confusing.

Overall, this novel was something I thought I would enjoy, but I didn't. I couldn't get invested in the story, nor did I feel strongly for any of the characters. The prose was beautiful, and I did enjoy that part of the book. I also enjoyed the take on Medea's myth, even if I didn't care for Medea herself. If you love myths, and are drawn to Medea, then I do recommend this book to you. If you love prose/poetry novels, then this book may also be of interest to you, even if I didn't love it.

Note: I received this book from Netgalley and the publisher in exchange for a fair, honest review.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

More Information: Goodreads, Amazon, David Vann's Website

What's your favorite retelling of a myth? Will you read this one? Let me know in the comments below!

The structure of this book is clever. There are no chapters, which ensures that the narrative moves along at a frenetic pace matching the action described. Jason is unpleasant and his behaviour is reprehensible, but so is that of Medea. The author has portrayed her as someone who gains respect from others in a male dominated world by invoking fear in those around her. While this is understandable, it does not make for easy reading and ultimately, I did not enjoy this book. The prose is too lyrical for me and though I can appreciate that the author is attempting to emulate the epic writers of classical Greece, it seems somewhat redundant. I think that when re-telling such a well known tale, it would be better to update it rather than stick to the methods of the past.

Bright Air Black is lyrical retelling of the story of Jason and Medea, drawing on elements from the Argonautica and Euripides’ Medea to craft a tale that’s at once unique and familiar. Book I of David Vann’s novel begins in medias res: Medea has just killed her brother, and is helping the Argonauts flee from her father Aeetes, which she reflects on as they sail from her home in Colchis to Jason’s home in Iolcus, having obtained the Golden Fleece. Book II follows Medea as she assists in Jason’s ascent to power, before the novel finally culminates in the story’s famously tragic and violent conclusion.

Vann’s Medea is instantly recognizable as the notorious, vengeful priestess that we know from the classics, rage personified. But rather than resting on this archetype, Vann goes further. Here Medea’s rage isn’t only portrayed, but thoroughly examined. Bright Air Black is more analysis than portrait as Vann deconstructs Medea, rationalizing her, humanizing her.

Being a feminist and being a fan of classical literature are two facets of my life which are at odds more often than not. So when I read modern retellings, I’m really looking for female characters to be afforded the same depth and quality of narrative voice as their male counterparts have been through the ages. In this regard, Bright Air Black is a resounding success. Violent, vindictive, impenitent, Medea seems more villain than hero. And yet. Driven by a singular desire for agency, Medea is rendered sympathetic by Vann, almost hauntingly so.

Reading Vann’s prose is a bit like being suffocated, or being submerged under water. Meditative and contemplative but also characterized by a pervasive darkness, this is a story that’s both grotesque and spellbinding. The fragmented sentences take some getting used to, and this style undoubtedly won’t appeal to everyone. Admittedly I tend to be wary of novels which deal in experimental prose, because more often than not, there’s just no reason aside from showcasing the author’s skill. I didn’t find that was the case here. I was quickly entranced by the rhythmic cadence of Medea’s thoughts, which break like waves crashing relentlessly through this narrative. This is a rare example of poetic prose where form and content complement one another masterfully; Medea’s character is inextricably tied to this terse and fragmentary style of writing. Very few authors could pull this off, but Vann does so with aplomb.

Usually a 5 star rating from me means ‘everyone read this book immediately.’ However, I do get the feeling that this may be a little too niche to recommend to the world at large. I’d highly recommend reading Euripides’ Medea or at least reading up on the myth before starting this. It’s not that the story isn’t sufficiently self-contained in these pages, but as an interpretation which is more character driven than plot driven, it’s probably not an ideal starting point.

I do want to stress that Bright Air Black is far from perfect. The pacing is uneven, far too much time is spent on the voyage from Colchis, the ending is abrupt. But these imperfections seem almost appropriate, in a way, because this is a tour de force, electrically charged work whose strength lies in its unapologetically tense and frantic approach. This is ultimately a bold and fearless examination of agency, power, and one woman’s rage. Medea, destroyer of kings.

I received a copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. Thank you Netgalley, Grove Atlantic, and David Vann.

I'm of mixed view on this one. I think it helps tremendously to know the story of Medea so that the reader can appreciate what Vann is doing. This is a violent, unsettling tale. I was less impressed with the writing than other reviewers have been but I did appreciate that Vann kept it focused and the chapters short. I think how much you like this will depend on how you felt about the original and whether you've read other rewrites. It's definitely a worthy effort and if it brings one additional reader to classic tales then that's a good thing. THanks to netgalley for the ARC.

David Vann has made a name for himself writing brutal, stark, and yet poignant stories that capture human nature. With Bright Air Black, he continues in that same tradition by putting his spin on the Medea legend. What follows among its pages is a story of love and revenge, as befits the subject, but also one of fierce pride and loss. Mr. Vann humanizes Medea in a way previously unseen and reminds readers that behind every powerful man there is almost always an equally powerful woman, in spite of what the history books may say.

Mr. Vann stays true to his penchant for not sugarcoating human brutality, and there are plenty of scenes that are not for the squeamish. The climax of Medea's story is one of the goriest scenes I have ever read. Yet he manages to repel and still attract readers with his downright gorgeous prose. In fact, his prose is bordering on the poetic, which would normally have me running for the hills. Instead, I was entranced by the skill with which he uses a few words to convey so much so vividly. It is a feat few can master. While his previous novels allowed readers to glimpse this talent, in Bright Air Black he settles into it with ease to create a novel that is breathtaking.

Bright Air Black is not the story of Medea you read in high school. Mr. Vann provides myriad reasons for Medea's actions, making her sympathetic in spite of her later viciousness. Moreover, his portrait of the local customs and general harshness of the times allows you to experience Medea's fall from grace in intimate terms. Between his lyrical prose and the historical details, Medea becomes yet another woman brutally used by the men in her life, forced to make impossible decisions on her men's behalf, and left alone to deal with the consequences. Medea is the ultimate tragic figure, and Mr. Vann tells her story with beauty and care.

Myth is bloody business.

Bright Air Black is a retelling of parts of Jason and the Argonauts, from the point of view of Medea. It is….poetic…grisly…tragicomic…eerie…chilling at times.

And although it allegedly weighs in at 288 pages, I read it at a sitting on the plane and it felt like a novella.

Bright Air Black is lyrical and utterly immersive. The opening pages made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. It begs for a soundtrack. So I’ve made one. Go ahead and push the play button on this, then continue reading this post, or the book itself.

https://play.spotify.com/user/viking2917/playlist/6n1yqisHGZLuw0WVrQT9hY?play=true&utm_source=open.spotify.com&utm_medium=open

Myth is a bloody business. As the book opens, Medea clinically butchers her brother as she sails away from her father with Jason, throwing the pieces overboard, so that her father must stop to pick up what is left of her brother. Later when she convinces King Pelias’ daughters to dismember him and throw him in the cauldron to be reborn a new — or not. Finally, as her children pay the price for being born to a faithless father and a distraught mother.

Medea is thoughtful, loyal, ambitious…. and taken with Jason. For reasons she herself cannot quite articulate. She escapes with him, from her father, to return and be a queen. And to be disappointed.

Jason is, well, in this portrayal he seems like a dumb jock who doesn’t know what’s good for him. Leader of a pack of semi-heroes.

As the book opens, you will be whisked away to a world not your own. Where the gods are real and terrible.

"There must be at least one god not filled with rage. Medea closes her eyes and tries to remember, but every image, every name that comes is feared. She hasn’t understood this until now, that rage is god, every weather god, every elemental, all that rise from the earth, all that come from death, all with a will to destroy. Worship a form of fear and perhaps nothing more, but how can that be?… Rage that inescapable and human."

Where simple sails take on a life of their own.

"The sail no inanimate thing. Terrible in high wind, rigid and merciless and powerful beyond imagining, a thing of fear and will. But even now, in lighter winds, filled with desire, a restlessness, capable even of regret and sorry, falling along an edge, hunching down, refilling but not entirely some cost to the past. Only in no air, when it hangs fully slack, does it seem like linen. At all other times, this is impossible to believe."

A retelling of Jason and the Argonauts from Medea’s point of view, we see Jason as a faithless husband, a feckless hero, and Medea the woman scorned. The writing is all water and light and rage and blood and hate and stupidity, the gravitas of the writing equal to the depth of its mythical subject matter. If you are in the mood for deep myth, you won’t be disappointed.

<p>I guess <b>spoiler alerts</b> for a story that originated around 700 BCE. Consider yourself duly warned.</p>

<p>Another of those <A href="http://www.netgallye.com">Netgalley</a> books I must request in a <i>all.the.free.books.NOW!</i> trance because it's a retelling of the story of Medea and I knew nothing about the initial telling of the story of Medea so how much did I really need to read a retelling of it? (Surprisingly though, from somewhere in the great media stew that is popular culture, I did know that Medea is known, in part, for killing her own sons. Now, where did I learn that? I doubt it was from forgotten nineties CBC melodrama <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Odyssey_(TV_series)">The Odyssey</a>, which had a character named Medea. Does anyone other than my mother and I remember that show? Can't drive past a field of corn without thinking about it.) </p>

<p>So we're thrown right in mid-story. Jason has stolen the golden fleece and is escaping with Medea, who has just killed her brother and is launching him, bit by bit, overboard (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7yfISlGLNU">they're on a boat!</a>) to slow down her father, who is pursuing them. There's a presumption that the reader knows the story of Medea and doesn't need to look this background information up or if they do, they have internet access and aren't, say, sitting in their car in the parking lot of the public pool waiting to pick their kid up from a birthday party.</p>

<p>But honestly, I got half-way through the book before I decided to look up the story of Medea (thank you <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medea">wikipedia</a>), which actually means that even thrown into <A href="https://www.librarything.com/work/18698608/book/136236449">Bright Air Black</a> blind, there was enough there to keep me going. It's dense, sure, but intriguing to read, with an interesting take that many of the stories of Jason's Argonauts were enriched in the telling, i.e. fish story lies with only nuggets of truth as the base. </p>

<p>But for a book about Medea, from Medea's perspective, all that could be said is that she's angry. The prototypical angry female. Obviously, much of the anger is justified (like being made a slave by her uncle-in-law), but other times (like having sex with a corpse), I just don't get it. Take away that anger and it's hard to say something specifically about Medea. She's not a flesh-and-blood character as much as raw rage. Raw rage is forceful enough to move a story forward, but not as compelling as a character in-and-of itself.</p>

<p>Still, those are after-thoughts. While reading it, I kept at it, wanting to see how Vann would portray the next step of the story. So maybe I'm overthinking everything.</p>

<p>The ultimate <i>bitches-be-crazy</i> book, except, just like in real life when someone mansplains away a woman's anger as <i>bitches-be-crazy</i>, Medea justifiably has a lot to be pissed off about, in part because men in the book keep mansplaining to her and saying <i>bitches-be-crazy</i> in her direction. </p>

<p><A href="https://www.librarything.com/work/18698608/book/136236449">Bright Air Black</a> by David Vann went on sale March 7, 2017.</p>

<p><small>I received a copy free from <a href="https://www.netgalley.com/">Netgalley</a> in exchange for an honest review.</small></p>

This is a thing of beauty. True and utter beauty.

David Vann retells the story of fabled Medea. Anyone not knowing the myth should read it first (or at least google it) before reading this book and my review because there will be spoilers.

Medea is the most famous daughter of Colchis, supposedly some kind of witch, who killed her own brother and chopped his body to pieces, to help Jason getting away with the golden fleece (which he was only able to steal because she helped him). Later, after being betrayed by Jason, she kills their sons in revenge.
As with most of the ancient stories featuring women in leading roles, the story was about the monstrosities Medea committed and the male hero who had to endure her.
This retelling, however, shines light at what made her do all the things she did.

We start with Medea already being on the Argo (Jason's ship) after getting the fleece. She chops her brother's body to pieces and throws those pieces into the sea to gain the favour of Hekate, goddess of darkness, in order to escape her raging father (in actuality she doesn't know if there is a goddess but knows that her father will always stop the ship to retrieve the body part, slowing him down).
The whole motivation for her to cast her lot in with Jason was that she wanted to be free. Young and naive, she believed in Jason's love and that they could end up happy together (or at least that she'd be free).
Interesting is that the author touched upon another half-myth, stating that there had been many golden fleece in ancient Greece, but that only one became famous because of how it was stolen and because of the stories being told (how stories get exaggerated over time).
So begins the troublesome journey of doomed Medea and no matter what she has to do, the reader knows that she, ultimately, is a victim of circumstances. Because in this ancient world, daughters had to have sex with their fathers if those fathers were kings, they were slaves to get slapped or whipped or raped and given away as if they had no actual value.
Medea refuses to be such a slave.

Her refusal to bend to society's norms back then dooms her from the start. But she is strong. And full of rage (more rage with each new betrayal). And smart.
It was interesting to see how the author made her be "just a woman" instead of an actual witch. All the mythic things she did, she did through cunning, making a lot up as she went (giving the Argonauts visions by feeding them mushrooms for example, knowing that she was only safe from rape if they feared her - yup, you read that right: right at the beginning, Jason wouldn't have saved her from rape, a regular Prince Charming). I liked that. It grounded Medea, made her more real.

Her trials, then, were heartbreaking and absolutely realistic.
Jason only wanting fame, being weak and not very bright, belittling her, treating her no better than her father had, using her whenever it suits him - right up until he casts her and his two sons they have aside for a younger bride (another pretty princess) as soon as Medea had delivered him from the last bad place they had to endure. So she poisons Jason's new wife and her father (who feared Medea and was therefore cruel to her) and plans to escape, but (realistically again) things go wrong. She refuses to leave her children behind so when the palace guards close in on them, she rather kills her children herself (more quickly and more merciful than what they'd have to expect). The act is so unbelievable that the guards turn away so she cannot even find solace in death herself.

Yes, Medea commits monstrous acts but since we know about what leads to every act, we can absolutely see why she did these things, that she had to do these things and can therefore feel empathy rather than judgement. At least I could. The author, thus, succeeded in telling the real story of a real women.

What makes this retelling so utterly beautiful and almost unbelievably fantastic is the prose. I've never read anything like it. The book is only divided into two sections (first the flight, then 6 years after Jason and Medea become slaves leading to their childrens' deaths), no chapters. The lines flow so elegantly, so rhythmically, that chapters would have been ugly interruptions since one doesn't want to stop reading. Every line was intricate and conveyed so much feeling that I could quote more than half the book.

I received a copy from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review, but will definitely buy the hardcopy of this book. I'm in love.

Bright Air Black by David Vann
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Thanks to Netgalley for this ARC!

I knew I was going to get a retelling of Medea from her point of view during the quest of The Golden Fleece and after, with Jason, but I wasn't quite prepared for just how beautiful the lines of the text were. I mean, getting it all from the PoV of Medea was a pretty awesome treat, all by itself, and found myself fully in her camp despite all the awful things she does, but what really caught my attention, even more, was the prose.

This is some true mythopoetical realism, yo.

I will admit that there were some parts during the first half of the text that could have been improved, at least making the text more accessible those who haven't studied up on the old legends and the plays, for so much of the action has already happened right when the prose opens up. I'm not going to complain too much, however, because even though it assumes the audience is conversant with the legend, it doesn't really matter after a certain amount of time.

Yes, we know Medea is a bad-ass, willing to tear the world down to prevent her slide into slavery. She's a beast willing to rend to keep herself out of chains.

I particularly love how the author managed to turn someone like this into a heroic figure even more than half the time, and even when she's doing her most evil deeds, I feel for her and want to cheer her on.

That's a real feat.

Is this niche? Or does this have all the feel of Big Magical Realism for Mainstream? I don't know, but it could certainly go either way. :) I enjoyed it very much, too.

DNF @ 7%

Considering Medea was one of my all-time favorite reads from my Ancient and Medieval Cultures class in college, I had high hopes for this one. Alas, it didn’t pan out. Bright Air Black is set before Medea and Jason have children but after Jason has secured the Golden Fleece. Medea’s father, King Aeëtes, is in pursuit of them and in an attempt to slow him down Medea sacrifices her brother, dismembers him, and tosses pieces of him overboard knowing that her father will stop to collect each and every piece.

The writing is both difficult to read and impossible to put down due to the long-winded narrative style. The chapters are few and far between as well as any actual dialogue making this a monotonous yet grotesque read. At times it was like Hannibal meets mythology.

‘Medea takes a piece of her brother, a thigh, heavy and tough, muscled, and licks blood from it, dark and thick. She spits, licks and spits again and again, three times to atone. Mouth filled with the taste of her family’s blood, and she throws this piece of Helios into the waves.’

Then after she threw the thigh overboard and her father has recovered it:

‘Her brother gone. She misses him there, far away, in his father’s arms, and yet most of him is here. She kneels in him still.’

Then there was a scene of a man leaning overboard to take a shit and Medea describes how it fouls the air due to lack of wind. I’m sure she ran out of body parts to toss overboard and the men wouldn’t spend the entire book shitting over the side of the boat, but there just wasn’t enough to captivate me in this retelling of one of my favorite Greek myths.

If I was to rate this book purely based on its language it would be five star book, hands down. David Vann really knows how to write the most amazing sentences. Some paragraphs were just breathtakingly beautiful in a truly unique way. He mixes short, fragmented sentences with longer more elaborate ones and the result is absolutely stunning. There were so many instances where I had to pause reading just to appreciate the sheer genius of his expression and I am beyond impressed with this.

<i> If you don't know the classic Medea myth, the following paragraphs will be full of spoilers. </i>

In this retelling of the Medea myth, Vann creates a brilliantly dark atmosphere and a relentlessly compelling narrative structure. We follow Medea from the moment she leaves Colchis, having just dismembered her brother, to the moment she is most famous for - killing her twin children. From the very beginning the book is relentless, there is never a good moment to stop reading and take a breath. Medea is full of rage, raging against everything and everyone, and this rage is felt throughout the book. She is never soft, never weak, even in her love for her children she is demanding and and intense and even frightening. Medea is one of my favourite characters of all time and I love that Vann lets her be angry, lets her rage, and lets her be unsympathetic in her desire to never be erased from her time and from the history that follows, she is dark and mean and it is in her nature to be that way.

However, where this book did feel a bit flat for me was in its depiction of Medea's and Jason's relationship. This relationship is at the core of this story and for all that importance, it never made sense. She leaves everything behind for him (even if leaving her father's world had other reasons as well) and I just never got a sense of why she would do this. Jason is a bit too much of a non-entity overall, he is not strong enough as a character to be a convincing counterpoint for her rage. Still, this is a minor complaint and it might very well have been a conscious decision to make him so bland a character. The writing is just so very brilliant to make up for any perceived lack of character development. I mean just look at this paragraph:

<i> Medea is without words, without thought. She has unstrung the world, pulled some vital thread and unraveled all. Nothing to do now but hold her breath and find out whether a new world re-forms. </i>

____
I received an arc of this book curtesy of NetGalley and Grove Atlantic in exchange for an honest review. Thanks for that!

I remember reading Medea a few years ago and loved it and now having read this version I loved this story just as much.

What a dark and horrifying tale. The hatred and revenge kept me engaged in the story fully-and the only real downfall for me had been what other reviewers have already commented on, and that is it is quite difficult to stop reading as there isn't really a place to add a stopping point. However, the prose is absolutely beautiful, and at times I had to stop and marvel at the writing, so this made up for the minor setback with not having a place to stop.

I received a copy of this book through NetGalley for an honest opinion. My thanks to David Vann and
Grove Atlantic for the opportunity.

4.5 Stars Rounded Up

Vann’s telling of his story of Jason and Medea begins aboard the Argo, with Medea’s father in pursuit.

She has ripped out all their hearts, she knows. Her father’s crew crippled to see him made smaller. She will humble him until there’s nothing left, until his men don’t know why they’re rowing. They will collect the pieces of the son and wonder that demigods can fall so easily.

Vann’s Medea is fiery, a quick-tempered, passionate, feisty descendant of gods and royalty. A sorceress. She falls in love with Jason, leaves her home to travel with him on the Argo to his home, Iolcos, where they will marry and then rule – it is Jason’s birthright.

The prose is spellbinding. Vann has such a way with weaving his spell around horrifying scenes with some of the most gorgeous, crafted imagery. Violent, dark and disturbing, Medea is, as Jason says to her, rage personified, and when her rage is unleashed… well, hell hath no fury like a sorceress scorned.

Be prepared to read this when you aren’t pressed for time. With very few breaks built in, it’s a bit more difficult to find a place to stop – but don’t let that stop you from reading this, because the truth is, you won’t want to stop.


Pub Date: 7 Mar 2017


Many thanks for the ARC provided by Grove Atlantic / Grove Press, Black Cat