Justice for Medea in lacklustre modern spin

Medea ★★
Rosie Hewlett
Penguin Random House

Whether you’ve seen it on the news or caught it on a murder mystery podcast, mommy murders are nothing new to the world. When coming across Medea by Rosie Hewlett, I expected to come face to face with the topic — especially as filicide continues to rise.

Whether it’s post-partum depression or financial implications that often lead to young and old mothers caving under the immense pressure of being sole breadwinners or caregivers, the book shies away from this. Instead, Hewlett retells the story of Medea according to her appearance in the Argonautica as a love interest and Euripides’ tragedy.

It takes a look back at the life of the tragic antihero and her tragic life with a modern sensibility.

Promising to be a tale about a "fierce powerful sorceress", the book kicks off with Medea turning her brother into a pig. A bittersweet moment as this effortless magic is a feat made famous by her aunt Circe — who famously turned an army of men into swine — but a punctuated moment for the broken relationship between her and her family. As the daughter of Aeetes, a king born from a mortal mother and a godly father with no demigod powers to speak of, this begets a man defined by his insecurities. 

Taking a fresh spin on the tale, Medea is not overwrought by Cupid’s arrow which leaves her dangerously in love with Jason, the Justin Timberlake of the Argonauts. Instead, Hewlett places the agency on Medea, who is desperately seeking a husband to help her escape her abusive life on Colchis.

The source material from the myth and play come alive beautifully in this retelling, a highlight being Hewlett’s delicious descriptions of how magic works and feels as it oozes in and out of Medea and Circe's hands. This becomes a great device when seeing how observers react to Medea’s use of the craft which often leaves them shocked rather than in awe.

While stage adaptations, in particular Medea’s, are often immersive, Hewlett uses the uncouth nature of these ancient fictional characters to pull you in. A reliable method for engaging young audiences who take to “booktok” to share their feelings on deplorable characters of the genre.

Which is Hewlett’s underestimated bailiwick, relationships. The manipulative nature of Jason echoes the many books in this genre that reimagine its female characters as misunderstood heroes and the men as ego-driven maniacs. It’s easy to follow the lives of the Argonauts, along with their mistreatment of their only female compatriot, Atalanta, through their bonds. A particular highlight is in the earlier chapters where Medea’s pig sorcery severs the already frayed relationship with her brother, and worsens the broken bond between her and Idyia, her mother.

After her brother’s transformation, he barely recovers from it without nightmares and a foul outlook on life. This is a burden for Idyia who misses the child he once was and resents Medea for performing magic that takes away the little joy they had. 

This also highlights the major flaw in Greek myths, the lack of bonds between women. Medea’s only other long-arching relationship to any other woman is Atalanta, who serves the purpose of highlighting Jason’s shortcomings and ability to use others. Instead of focusing on these elements, we see Medea’s story become a melodramatic escape that lacks the necessary modern gaze or perspective. Instead, the book sinks deeper into a tale about heartbreak and the revenge Medea believes she deserves for marrying a prince charming who turned out to be a frog.

Medea’s tales have often been defined by how she was so lovesick for Jason that she was willing to protect him and herself at any cost - a desperation brought on by his betrayal that she exacts through a brutal revenge involving her children. Rarely touched on in Hewlett’s version are the implications caused by Medea’s identity and race. This plays a role in why she believes the best solution is to murder them rather than see them become slaves. In its original tales, the 24 hours she buys herself allows her to convince audiences of this mission and why her last resort is to kill her kids, who must escape the brutal slavery they will endure. 

As more complex issues faced by women and men in today's society come to light in other forms of fiction, these Greek retellings become pointless if they can’t speak to the problems we experience daily. If a fifth century figure like Medea had to grapple with filicide, what bridge still exists centuries later? How much has changed from the imagination of a time when childbearing was the greatest pursuit to an era where childbearing can be seen as a burden?

With Hewlett barely making these links, Medea’s retelling falls flat as a tale more concerned with cheating spouses than the plight of motherhood.