A Map or Maybe Not
“Myth is the nothing that is all.” —Fernando Pessoa, “Ulisses”
The definition of myth has been much debated and written about, so I’m not going to dive into that deep and murky pool. The difference between myth and legend is similarly mootable. (Not to mention, as a character in a story contained herein says, “. . . when legend and myth meet . . . (e)verything gets tangled.”)
In A Short History of Myth, Karen Armstrong states:
In the pre-modern world, mythology was indispensable. It not only helped people to make sense of their lives but also revealed regions of the human mind that would otherwise have remained inaccessible. . . .
She eventually concludes (along with much more) that myths are narratives and novels now do what myths once did. Armstrong asks what “else have novelists been doing these past 400 years, if not telling those timeless stories of loss, struggle and homecoming; of exile, sacrifice and redemption; of fertility, death and renewal, over and over again?”
Armstrong’s view has, of course, been challenged. [“Armstrong has been misguided in the conception and production of this book.” (Simon Goldhill, New Statesman) “She falters once, when she speculates that today it is novelists who can partly fill the void left by myth.” (Caroline Alexander, The New York Times Book Review).]
I’ve already mentioned the definition of mythology is a point of contention. Let’s amend that: any consideration of mythology tends to inspire some argument.
We can all agree there’s currently a great deal of cultural interest in old myths, including that displayed by TV/online dramas [ Atlantis (2013-2015), Troy: Fall of a City (2018), Vikings (2013-present), and American Gods (2017-present), based on Neil Gaiman’s 2001 novel)] and films like Immortals (2010), Thor (2011) and its more recent sequels, Wonder Woman (2017) and its forthcoming sequel Wonder Woman 1984, Clash of the Titans (2010) and Wrath of the Titans (2014), Hercules (2014), The Secret of Kells (2009), Gods of Egypt (2016), and Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief (2010) and its 2013 sequel, based on a series of children’s books by Rick Riordan.
The influence of legend and mythology on all forms of gaming is so pervasive (if often derived from literature or film), I won’t go into it except to note references to Norse mythology are currently popular.
In recent literature, Kamila Shamsie’s novel Home Fire (2017) reinvents ancient myth in a modern context, while Madeline Miller’s Circe (2018) and The Song of Achilles (2012) both retell the original myths as does The Silence of the Girls (2018) by Pat Barker. Gods Behaving Badly (2007) is a hilarious take on the Olympians by Marie Phillips. Phillips treats Arthurian legend in the same way with The Table of Less Valued Knights (2015). Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad—a novella of the Odyssey told by Penelope, Odysseus’ wife—is a bit older (2005), as is Anansi Boys (2005) by Neil Gaiman (which weaves African myth with the modern day), but I’ll throw them in too.
And one must mention the literary retellings of Norse Mythology (2017) by (again) Gaiman.
When it comes to science fiction and fantasy, modern authors often use myths and legends as inspiration or in retellings. Genre novels based on or heavily influenced by myth and legend are too numerous to mention, as are graphic novels, manga, and comic books.
Writers constantly invent mythologies and legends, but no matter how “new” they are, they are connected to ancient tales by the enduring human equation. The truths such fiction express is always relevant to human nature and society.
And for all the deeper meanings and uses of myth and legend, let’s not forget they are also entertaining stories.
Novels offer authors a great deal more room to work with, but I hope Mythic Journeys provides the reader with a least a glimpse of some modern myth and legend in speculative fiction’s short form.
In Western culture, Greek myth resounds with the loudest clang. It shouldn’t be surprising to find it by far the most commonly evoked in speculative literature. There are many fine stories to choose from, and this volume could have easily been nothing but stories with Hellenic roots, but that would have not been a fair reflection of either modern society or literature, so I sought out stories from other traditions as well.
That said, this anthology is lacking in myths and legends from many ancient cultures: Egyptian, Babylonian, Arabian . . .
Mythic Journeys is far from a comprehensive survey of speculative fiction based on the vast diversity of world lore, but I hope you’ll find enough of an assortment to give you some idea of the wonders that abound.
One more thing: ancient myths, or at least those that have filtered down to us, are often grounded in patriarchal societies. Myths themselves were tools men used to reinforce the message that women were subordinate to their male counterparts. Not surprisingly, a number of these modern stories provide a female point of view, reinterpret, or otherwise subvert the old standards to reveal new ideas.
Since not everyone will be familiar with all the myths and legends used in these stories, I thought I’d provide some notes, a sort of a map—albeit far from complete and often tangential—to our journeys. I hope there are no spoilers, but I’ve decided to group these story introductions here, at the end of my introduction instead of before each individual story, so that if you are particularly sensitive to even inadvertent information, you can more easily avoid the notes below.
We start—somewhere—with a beautiful retelling of the story of Persephone in “Lost Lake” by Emma Straub and Peter Straub. Demeter, the Greek goddess of the Earth’s fertility, is one of the oldest of the gods; the story of a goddess abducted to rule the underworld—like Demeter’s daughter Persephone—pre-dates the Greeks.
There are many myths and legends about Coyote—as a trickster, creator, lover, and more—found in various cultures of the indigenous people of North America. The hero/trickster is featured in modern novels like Coyote Blue by Christopher Moore, Summerland by Michael Chabon, and various shorter tales, but none is quite like Catherynne M. Valente’s “White Lines on a Green Field.”
As one can suppose from the title, there is another trickster in “Trick-ster” by Steven Barnes and Tananarive Due: Kaggen, the creator god of the San of southern Africa. But it is quite different from Valente’s. It is set in the future in the Kalahari, a vast, arid plateau in southern Africa. Kaggen’s ability to shapeshift into a mantis is mentioned, but in old stories he has also been known to become a snake, louse, caterpillar, or eland.
The beings in Brooke Bolander’s “Our Talons Can Crush Galaxies” are somewhat akin to the Erinyes. Although their attributes changed from pre-Greek times through Aeschylus’ depiction in the Oresteia, it’s fairly safe to call them chthonic deities of vengeance and retribution.
Speaking of the Oresteia, a trilogy of tragedies that tell the end of the house of Atreus, it is the story of what happens a decade or so after the events Rachel Swirsky interprets from the viewpoint of Iphigenia in the fascinating “A Memory of Wind.” The Oresteia is not a gentle tale.
The Leda of M. Rickert’s story of the same name is, indeed, a modern variation of the Leda mentioned (as Helen and Clytemnestra’s mother) in “A Memory of Wind.” That said, it is a very “realistic” look at one of the more implausible of Zeus’ many rapes of women, mortal and immortal alike.
We take a break from the violence of Greek myth for a bit with Neil Gaiman’s charming “Chivalry,” one of two stories in Mythic Journeys loosely connected to Arthurian legend. This one concerns the Holy Grail, the vessel supposedly used by Christ at the Last Supper, then used by Joseph of Arimathea to collect Christ’s blood and sweat while he tended him on the cross. According to legend, Joseph immigrated to Britain and—centuries later—his descendants somehow lost track of the Grail. At Arthur’s court it was prophesied that the Grail would one day be rediscovered by the greatest of all knights, and a quest to find the relic began.
We will continue to stay away from the Greeks with “The God of Au” by Ann Leckie. Some contend that speculative fiction itself is a particularly effective type of contemporary mythmaking. That fantasy and science fiction fulfill modern humanity’s need for myth. Leckie’s story is an example of a story that’s not directly related to known myths (although the twins Etoje and Ekuba might remind one of Romulus and Remus, the legendary founders of Rome, as well as Cain and Abel of Judeo-Christian tradition) but its theme is mythological: people making deals with a god. Generally, mythology teaches us over and over that one should be cautious when dealing with gods.
“Faint Voices, Increasingly Desperate” by Anya Johanna DeNiro is a story of lust and jealousy related to old Norse myth but set in the present day. A form of Freyja (or maybe Frigg) is the central character. (Even goddesses get mixed up in stories that evolve over centuries.) Briefly mentioned are Freyja’s “falcon cloak, her two cats, her boar, and her jewelry.” Freyja owned a cloak (or maybe a skin) of falcon feathers that enabled her to fly. If she wanted to travel by chariot, she had one drawn by two cats. Or she could ride her boar, Hildisvíni (“battle swine”). Her most famous piece of jewelry was a necklace: Brísingamen. The magical torc (or neck-ring) was made by four dwarves. Freyja may (or may not) have obtained it by sleeping with each of them.
There are stories within stories in Sofia Samatar’s “Ogres of East Africa.” It is 1907 and a Pakistani-Kenyan clerk employed by a repulsive “great white hunter” is cataloging different types of ogres as told to him by Mary, a woman of the highlands. Having killed every type of animal he knows of in the area, the hunter now wants to shoot ogres. Are the ogres real monsters or are they legends? How can the powerless fight the powerful?
We journey north (but not quite as far north) from Africa for “Ys” by Aliette de Bodard. Ys is a mythical city off the coast of Brittany built by Gradlon, King of Cornouaille. Or maybe it was founded two millennia before the legendary king. Gradlon may have been an upright sort or maybe not. But his daughter Ahez (if he had a daughter) was—as de Bodard vividly portrays—wickedness incarnate. The stories all agree she was a bad one and Ys (for one reason or another) was lost to the sea.
Tanith Lee takes us to an island off the coast of Greece for “The Gorgon,” a story about Medusa, a powerful icon of Greek (and earlier) myth. One of the three Gorgon sisters, most think about her only as the snake-haired monster who turned men to stone with her gaze. Perseus, with the help of Athena, beheads her. There’s a great deal more to even the most basic story of Medusa, though, and many rich interpretations of her symbolism abound. Seek them out.
We abandon the warmth of the Mediterranean for Ottawa in Charles de Lint’s modern-day glimpse of a mythic character central to Arthurian legend with “Merlin Dreams in the Mondream Wood.” (The character, a fusion of historical and legendary figures, actually appeared in separate legends before he was blended into Arthur’s story.) Sara Kendall, the protagonist of de Lint’s tale, is also featured in de Lint’s novel Moonheart (1984). Celtic and Native American mythologies are the core of this now-classic fantasy.
Back to Europe we travel for “Calypso in Berlin” by Elizabeth Hand, which wonderfully updates the story of Calypso in a darkly magical way. In Homer’s Odyssey, Calypso is a nymph who entertains Odysseus for seven years on her idyllic island of Ogygia, but even her promise of immortality cannot keep him. There are a lot of nymphs in Greek myth: water nymphs, land nymphs, tree nymphs. They aren’t exactly deities but they are deeply connected to specific places in nature.
Choosing just one story from Lisa L. Hannett and Angela Slatter’s collection Madness and Moonshine proved a challenge. I wound up re-reading the entire book—not that I minded—before finally choosing “Seeds,” the first story. In it, Mymnir flees the devastation of Ragnarok, hoping to escape all that bound her to Ásgarðr. Madness and Moonshine’s connected tales tell of Mymnir’s Fae and part-Fae descendants in her new realm in the New World. Mymnir is a version of Muninn, one of Odin’s two ravens. (The other is Huginn.) Odin sends the ravens out and they gather information for him, but they are more than magical spy birds: they are parts of the Allfather, so he sometimes frets about them flying away and not coming back.
Nisi Shawl’s “Wonder-Worker-of-the-World” takes us back to Africa. Shawl has stated her story “strongly mimics the storytelling voice found in translated West African folktales.” She has also mentioned how what we now know of African myth and legend is often distorted. This is touched upon in Sofia Samatar’s story: African myths are mostly an oral tradition. What we read were collected and transcribed by Westerners who saw Africans as inferior. How accurately could such racist sources be? Still, the stories resound. Untombinde, which means “the tall girl,” appears in several guises we know of. The best known is as the daughter of a king who must deal with a monster to gain her bridegroom.
Priya Sharma’s “Thesea and Astaurius” is a fresh look at the myth of Theseus, the Minotaur, the Labyrinth, Ariadne, and Daedalus. In the original story, Ariadne helps Theseus by giving him a ball of thread that helps him navigate inside the Labyrinth and escape from it. As promised, Theseus marries Ariadne. But, at the first landfall their escape ship makes, the island of Naxos, Theseus deserts Ariadne. Ariadne either hangs herself or marries the god Dionysus. The goddess Artemis may have killed her the moment she gave birth to Dionysus’ twins. Or maybe not. The original story is said to represent ideas about the civilized versus the uncivilized or natural versus the unnatural. But Sharma takes us much further—out of space and time.
“Foxfire, Foxfire” by Yoon Ha Lee deals with a fox spirit. The concept began in China, but drifted into most Eastern Asian cultures. (It is also found in a lot of modern speculative fiction; I know of quite a few examples.) The details of the cunning shapeshifter—called kitsune (fox) in Japan, húli jīng (fox spirit) in China, and kumiho (nine-tailed fox) in Korea vary, but the entity usually likes to take the form of a beautiful woman. Depending on the tradition, the fox can be a mischievous trickster, benevolent, malicious, or downright evil. (By the way, baduk is the Korean name for the board game Go; yut is another board game.)
Although some traditions see the owl as wise and enlightening, in many Native American cultures—as in “Owl vs. the Neighborhood Watch” by Darcie Little Badger—the nocturnal avian is considered an omen or messenger of death. Similarly in ancient Rome, an owl’s hoot predicted imminent death. In India and China owls are harbingers of misfortune. In England, even as late as the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the owl was associated with death.
Atalanta, in Greek mythology, was a fleet-footed huntress. In Tansy Rayner Roberts’s clever “How to Survive an Epic Journey,” she also becomes an Argonaut, one of the heroes on Jason’s ship the Argo who sought the Golden Fleece. Here we get a woman’s viewpoint of the search for the Golden Fleece and what came after.
You’ll find some sort of solar deity in most ancient mythologies. Many of them are humanoid and ride in or drive a vehicle across the sky. Ekaterina Sedia draws on Eastern Slavic myth in “Simargl and the Rowan Tree” to tell us of a mortal who dies, becomes the guardian of heaven, and does a good job of trotting along behind the sun god’s chariot. When he’s free of that responsibility, he has time to get into trouble.
“The Ten Suns” by Ken Liu is another science fictional myth. But you’ll find the same elements in many ancient tales: an inquisitive hero who can’t abide commonly held belief, a sidekick with a special power, and a mystery/problem to solve.
Any body of mythology has maidens in it. They are young and beautiful and—unless they are divine—powerless. Sometimes they go on to live happily ever after. Sometimes they don’t. Like the title character in “Armless Maidens of the American West” by Genevieve Valentine, they may become legends, even while they still exist in the flesh.
Labyrinths and monsters are potent symbols. We’ve already encountered one set, but “Give Her Honey When You Hear Her Scream” by Maria Dahvana Headley is a profoundly different story.
Did I mention monsters? “Zhuyin” by John Shirley, the only previously unpublished story in this anthology, is an outright scary monster tale. The original serpent-bodied Chinese celestial deity (known in English as the Torch Dragon) that inspired the author may look terrifying, but is not really menacing. According to Shanhaijing (translated by Anne Birrell): “When this deity closes his eyes, there is darkness. When the deity looks with his eyes, there is light. He neither eats, nor sleeps, nor breathes. The wind and the rain are at his beck and call. This deity shines his torch over the ninefold darkness.”
As Rachel Pollack explains, “The story of ‘Immortal Snake’ was inspired by a very old tale, published early in the twentieth century by the mythographer Leo Frobenius . . . ‘The Ruin of Kasch’. . . Kasch was an actual place in the ancient world, its location in Africa precisely known. The modern name for the land of Kasch is Darfur.”
“A Wolf in Iceland Is the Child of a Lie” by Sonya Taaffe ends our journey. It is related to Norse myth. Maybe this is a good place to mention that J. R. R. Tolkien acknowledged his fantasy was heavily influenced by the myths of the Northern Europeans. His work became popular—in fact, fantasy as a genre was initially dominated by imitations of Tolkien. Elements of Germanic and Nordic mythology are often found in some forms of fantasy and far too many video games and MMORPGs.
Enough of my cartography. Hope you enjoy our Mythic Journeys. May the gods be with you. Or maybe not . . .
—Paula Guran
Written on a Týr’s day in the month of November 2018