


This, after saying that she wants to be like Medusa. “Catullus 64”’s furious heroine, who puts a curse on Theseus, is lost in Ariadne’s self-described “sniveling despair”. She follows Ovid’s lead as meekly as her heroine sticks to her menfolk. Although she seems to be familiar with the numerous versions of the Ariadne myth, in a crucial narrative moment Saint’s source is lamentably limited to Ovid’s Heroides. Saint combines this with another version of the subsequent story of Ariadne as the consort of the god, Dionysus. Even those misogynistic Greeks of the City Dionysia have been there, done that, and even bought the tunic.Īriadne tells the famous story of the Cretan princess of Greek myth who betrays her father and his kingdom for the love of a man. Yet it is a pity that none of them has much to say about the canonical material other than a comment on the silencing of the oppressed, which is hardly a new insight. In their alikeness, these works express attitudes towards ancient myths growing popular among a certain kind of cis-hetero woman feminist. Prominent names in this bestselling tide are Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls, Natalie Haynes’s A Thousand Ships, Genevieve Gornichec’s The Witch’s Heart and, of course, Madeline Miller’s trendsetting Circe. Jennifer Saint’s Ariadne belongs to the wave of retellings of ancient myths currently inundating the market.
