Ariadne

“What I did not know was that I had hit upon a truth of womanhood: however blameless a life we led, the passions and the greed of men could bring us to ruin, and there was nothing we could do.”

When Pasiphae tragically suffers for her husband’s offense against Poseidon, Ariadne comes to this bleak realization of her precarious position, developing the theme of women’s status. That she fears she will suffer not for anything she herself does but rather as a result of a man’s actions speaks to how little power she has to act.

“No longer was my world one of bold heroes; I was learning all too swiftly the women’s pain that throbbed unspoken through the tales of their feats.”

Ariadne’s reflection on myths and the female pain that pervades them offers a metacommentary on the novel’s purpose. Just as Ariadne is coming to understand a tragic truth about the epic tales she grew up hearing, so too is the novel itself an attempt to shed light on the contributions and suffering of women that traditional narratives overlook.

“If the gods held me accountable one day for the sins of someone else, if they came for me to punish a man’s actions, I would not hide away like Pasiphae. I would wear that coronet of snakes, and the world would shrink from me instead.”

Ariadne imagines being defiant and vengeful in the face of unjust punishment rather than wasting away in her grief. Women in this world have few options to fight or escape their own oppression, but Ariadne demonstrates her determination to show courage in the face of it. The metaphor comparing divine punishment to a “coronet of snakes” alludes to the Medusa myth, which Ariadne reads against the grain; rather than a victim or monster, Medusa becomes a symbol of female power.

“This woman could bear your sons […] But a strong son is a heavy load indeed for a woman to bear, and if you continue to treat her as you do, like the donkey, she will weaken and she will not be able to bring you such a gift.”

Rhadamanthus, though apparently well-meaning, compares the mistreatment of a woman to that of a donkey, which points to the status of women in ancient Greece. The treatment of women as property for male gain is a prominent theme. In this case, Rhadamanthus convinces the man who sought his council to stop abusing his wife not because of the inherent cruelty of it, but because it diminishes his wife’s usefulness.

“Of course, Heracles chose the rocky path, and in due course he set forth on labors more grueling and perilous than anyone could have imagined. It won him fame beyond reckoning—at terrible cost, but one worth paying a thousand times over.”

This quote from Theseus develops the theme of The Danger of Fame, Heroism, and Immortality, associating heroism with great sacrifice. Theseus claims that these “labors” (a reference to the 12 Labors of Hercules) are worth the fame one garners in return but fails to mention that the pursuit of glory can harm not only oneself but others.

“For Zeus had so many trysts but was legendarily careless about keeping them secret, and Hera’s revenges were the subject of endless stories. It was the women, always the women, be they helpless serving girls or princesses, who paid the price.”

Hera’s legendary wrath against the women with whom her husband had his affairs is yet another example of the ways in which women suffer for the transgressions of men. Moreover, while Hera can retaliate against Zeus’s mortal lovers, even she—a goddess—is seemingly powerless in the face of her husband’s unfaithfulness.

“I directed them at Theseus, calling him things I did not know I had the words for, but I foamed with anger for Minos, as well, and even for Poseidon—these men, these gods who toyed with our lives and cast us aside when we had been of use to them, who laughed at our suffering or forgot our existence altogether.”

Ariadne gives herself to her rage and grief in the wake of Theseus’s abandonment. Like Medusa with her crown of hissing snakes, she displays her rage openly in a cathartic outburst directed not only at Theseus but at the patriarchal system that enables such mistreatment.

“I had thought [Deucalion] brought salvation with him. Instead he had traded my existing bondage for another.”

This highlights women’s restricted position in ancient Greek society. Phaedra’s brother essentially trades her to secure peace with Athens, and she gets her wish of escaping Crete. However, Phaedra realizes that her escape from one oppressive environment will only lead her to another.

“It was only Dionysus’ benevolence that had made it nothing more than an amusing tale, rather than a terrible tragedy. All he needed to do was will it either way.”

Even though Dionysus’s story about King Midas did not end in tragedy, it unsettles Ariadne because it demonstrates how much power the gods have over human life and how they wield that power to their amusement. Her unease foreshadows Dionysus’s ultimate descent into cruelty and vengefulness.

“The gods do not know love, because they cannot imagine an end to anything they enjoy. Their passions do not burn brightly as a mortal’s passions do, because they can have whatever they desire for the rest of eternity. How can they cherish or treasure anything?”

Dionysus criticizes the gods and notes that the ephemeral nature of human life makes it all the more precious. Having walked among mortals and having understood loss and grief for himself, he understands the value of human love as his fellow gods do not. The idea that mortality is key to love casts doubt on the heroes who seek immortality through legend, as doing so entails rejecting human compassion, ethics, etc.

“Theseus had not left me because I was at fault or because I did not matter. He had left because, to him, nothing mattered at all beyond the cold pursuit of his own fame. I would not let a man who knew the value of nothing make me doubt the value of myself.”

This passage highlights the inherent emptiness of fame-seeking heroes like Theseus. Rather than blame herself or question her worth, Ariadne understands that men like Theseus simply fail to value human life.

“I had been a fool to trust a hero, a man who could only love the mighty echo of his own name throughout the centuries. It could have undone me. I could have shriveled and died on this very beach.”

Ariadne has found in Dionysus a genuinely trusting relationship and chastises her younger self for putting her trust in Theseus. The tragic irony is that her relationship with Dionysus will lead to her downfall. In this world, women have few options but to place their trust in men; thus, she has no choice but to hope that Dionysus will be different.

“I saw the women of the world […] and as I braced on my hands and knees, I felt that we surged in synchrony with one another. Like a vast constellation of stars pinpricking the night sky, I could feel us all strive together to each bring new sparks of light into the universe.”

Ariadne finds strength, purpose, and community in motherhood and childbirth. The passage celebrates the strength of women and foreshadows Ariadne’s transformation into a star—a vantage point from which she will watch over the women of the world.

“The competent queen who had juggled the needs of the city so expertly was now a slave to the relentless wailing from the crib.”

Phaedra finds herself deeply unsuited to motherhood, so much so that she likens it to slavery. As a more headstrong and independent young woman, she lacks her sister’s quiet compassion and instead found purpose in helping to rule Athens. Ariadne and Phaedra represent two starkly contrasting attitudes toward motherhood.

“Maenads came to join our band of followers on rowing boats or rafts, the oars pulled by strong young women: young maidens seeking refuge from marriages to old and shriveled men; wives tired of the grinding nature of tending every day to every need but her own; clever and passionate women who scrubbed floors and tended fires and wove cloth and pounded soiled linen on the banks of the rivers while men played dice in the squares and talked of philosophy, drinking wine in the afternoon sun and arranging the world to suit themselves.”

Life on Naxos is idyllic; it is a place where women can escape the oppressive men in their lives and live freely among other women. This peace and harmony speaks to the novel’s larger theme of how sisterhood helps women weather hardship and grief. This passage emphasizes that while the maenads come from all walks of life, they share a recognition that society is “arranged” for men’s benefit rather than their own.

“My world, which had seemed so rich and full as I stood on the beach that morning, watching the glittering surf and marveling at my own good fortune, now suddenly struck me as so very small when looked at from the outside.”

Upon meeting Phaedra, Ariadne compares her life to her sister’s; the simple joys of life on Naxos seem small in comparison to Phaedra’s life as queen of Athens, and it dawns on Ariadne how much the world has changed outside of her idyllic island. The irony is that Phaedra does not find her life expansive or liberating at all.

“My mind reeled at the thought. I imagined that her children would have been a comfort to her, that she would have loved them all the more because they were all she had, that she could look at them and see that something good at least had come from her miserable marriage.”

Ariadne has had a completely different experience of motherhood than her sister. She struggles to imagine that Phaedra does not find happiness in her children; the stark differences in the sisters’ personalities and experiences inform their different approaches to motherhood.

“Did she think my fury would incite Dionysus to burn her to cinders? As though I had the vengeful spite of Hera, and Dionysus the broiling ferocity of Zeus. We were not like them, we had always told ourselves so, and I had wrapped myself in the comfort of that belief.”

Ariadne takes comfort in the knowledge that her husband is different from other gods and from great heroes like Theseus. However, in the wake of Phaedra’s visit and her accusations regarding Dionysus’s perverse rites, Saint hints that Ariadne may be wrong to trust her husband so deeply.

“Why did I, Phaedra of Knossos and Athens, put my faith in a man? When I should have seen that what I truly wanted was simply to run away.”

Phaedra realizes that her love for Hippolytus is merely a desire to escape her current miserable circumstances. She regrets trusting him, but her trust is understandable in a society where a woman’s hope for freedom often, ironically, comes in the form of another man.

“I hardly knew where to even begin. ‘I didn’t like it,’ I said weakly. Limply. Pointlessly.

‘Then do not follow us again,’ he answered. There was no unkindness in his tone.”

A prevalent narrative pattern involves women making sacrifices for the men whom they love—but, notably, men are unwilling to do the same. Ariadne knows as soon as she says this to Dionysus that it will change nothing: The rites will continue whether she is comfortable with them or not. In fact, Dionysus does not even recognize that he could alter his behavior. For him, Ariadne’s objection is simply a statement of personal preference, to which he offers a matter-of-fact, well-meaning solution.

“Can you blame me for thinking it better to garner the love of a thousand mortals instead, to hold the adoration of a city instead of one consort’s frail, mortal flesh?”

Dionysus confirms Ariadne’s fears that her mortal love, and the love of their sons, is no longer enough for him. His rejection of his family in favor of the love of “a thousand mortals” could be due in equal part to thirst for fame and fear; the knowledge that his wife and children, whom he genuinely loves, will someday die pains him, and he believes the adoration of thousands of mortals can make up for it.

“Pasiphae. Semele. Medusa. Now a hundred grieving mothers. The price we paid for the resentment, the lust, and the greed of arrogant men was our pain, shining and bright like the blade of a newly honed knife. Dionysus had once seemed to me the best of them all, but I saw him now for what he was, no different from the mightiest of gods. Or the basest of men.”

Ariadne’s condemnation of Dionysus continues the novel’s comparison of mortal heroes and the gods they strive to emulate. The “mightiest” of gods, those with the greatest power, act with cold cruelty and pettiness that make them no better than the lowest of mortal men. This is particularly true of their treatment of women, as both men and gods see women as disposable tools.

“In terms of heartbreak, Dionysus could call himself the greatest of all the gods now. He could measure his glory in female torment and blaze his legend across the heavens as the conqueror of infants, destroyer of the innocent.”

Dionysus, who has always proclaimed himself different from his fellow Olympians, has now surpassed them in cruelty. The novel insinuates that the mightiest of men and gods tend to be the cruelest, and thus Dionysus’s attack on the Argive women renders him the “greatest” of them all.