Pandora’s Jar review: Proves that the classics are far from dead, and keep evolving with us

Pandora’s Jar 

Natalie Haynes                                                                                              Picador £20

Rating:

Swinging a baseball bat, Beyoncé sings: ‘What’s worse, looking jealous or crazy?’ The Hold Up music video shows a woman betrayed by the man she loves. Medea – who murders her husband’s lover, then her own children – asks herself the same question in Euripides’ play, first staged in 431 BC. 

Medea’s reaction to infidelity is so drastic, so enduringly taboo, that most modern productions depict her as mad. But, Natalie Haynes emphasises, she is not.

Such striking pop-cultural references make for a refreshing take on Greek mythology. Little wonder, for Haynes has forged a career reinvigorating the classics. In Pandora’s Jar, her second non-fiction book, she unravels ten women’s myths – the conflicting versions, the echoes throughout history – forcing us to re-evaluate figures we thought we knew.

Natalie Haynes argues persuasively, carving out space for women denied a voice (Medusa, above by Carravagio, 1597), overshadowed (Jocasta) and unjustly condemned (Helen of Troy)

Natalie Haynes argues persuasively, carving out space for women denied a voice (Medusa, above by Carravagio, 1597), overshadowed (Jocasta) and unjustly condemned (Helen of Troy)

Myths change over time, with each reimagining reflecting contemporary values. To the Ancient Greeks, war was not unequivocally bad. Indeed, they were so fascinated by the Amazons, ‘war-loving’ female warriors, that only Heracles appears in more vase paintings. 

Unlike individualistic male heroes, the Amazons’ power is tribal. However, when reinterpreted in the 2017 film Wonder Woman, they are markedly conflict-averse, until – in a feminist inversion of hero tropes – one woman saves humankind while her male lover dies.

Stories are a matter of perspective, and mythological women’s are often overlooked. Many storytellers have been content to leave the female psyche unexamined – but thank Zeus for Euripides, who ‘wrote more and better female roles than almost any other male playwright who has ever lived’. 

The Amazons’ power is tribal. However, when reinterpreted in the 2017 film Wonder Woman, they are markedly conflict-averse, until one woman saves humankind while her male lover dies

The Amazons’ power is tribal. However, when reinterpreted in the 2017 film Wonder Woman, they are markedly conflict-averse, until one woman saves humankind while her male lover dies

Complex, dangerous characters such as Clytemnestra and Phaedra are all the more astonishing when you consider that they would have been performed by male actors, probably watched by all-male audiences.

Haynes has a stand-up comedy background, and her wry wit leavens these grisly tragedies. Her irreverence – Kronos eats his children and ‘fails a basic fatherhood test’ – has the ring of affectionate family teasing: that’s how intimately she knows and loves her subject. 

Alongside the laughs are rigorous analysis and ethical wrangling, as she considers the dilemmas posed by mythology.

Pandora (Pandora Opens The Box, by Walter Crane, above) was created by Zeus to wreak earthly havoc in revenge for Prometheus’s theft of fire

Pandora (Pandora Opens The Box, by Walter Crane, above) was created by Zeus to wreak earthly havoc in revenge for Prometheus’s theft of fire

I, Claudius author Robert Graves gets short shrift for the misogynistic distortions of his retellings, while classic children’s versions accentuated the malice we now associate with Pandora’s jar-opening antics (the apocryphal ‘box’ can be traced to Erasmus’s Latin translation). 

In fact, Pandora was created by Zeus to wreak earthly havoc in revenge for Prometheus’s theft of fire. She can hardly be blamed for fulfilling her destiny.

If I’m ever prosecuted, I’d like Natalie Haynes to defend me. She argues persuasively, carving out space for women denied a voice (Medusa), overshadowed (Jocasta) and unjustly condemned (Helen of Troy). 

She explores feminist literature reclaiming mythological narratives – Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad, Carol Ann Duffy’s poem Eurydice – and matches entertainment with erudition, discussing Greek linguistic nuance alongside historical context. 

If anything, I could have done with more of the latter to offset all the myth.

Agile, rich, subversive, Pandora’s Jar proves that the classics are far from dead, and keep evolving with us.

 

The Gospel Of Eels

Patrik Svensson                                                                                      Picador £16.99

Rating:

It’s a fish that can slither through ditches and grasses on land for hours, live for 80 years in captivity, and has journeyed to the same elusive breeding grounds since a time before the continents drifted to their present positions.

In this lovely, thoughtful blend of natural science and memoir, Patrik Svensson elevates the European eel – the one that has been jellied, fried and roasted for centuries – to an almost mythical status and interweaves accounts of its history, life cycle and cultural significance with stories of his own relationship with his road-paver father.

Svensson grew up in rural Sweden and paints a picture of a natural idyll: a childhood spent by the grassy banks of a stream at twilight, throwing out spillers (long fishing lines with lots of hooks) to catch eels.

In this lovely, thoughtful blend of natural science and memoir, Patrik Svensson elevates the European eel to an almost mythical status

In this lovely, thoughtful blend of natural science and memoir, Patrik Svensson elevates the European eel to an almost mythical status

His father is a man of few words and it is through eel-fishing that father and son gently bond.

The eel is an enigma and a reminder that there is so much that modern science doesn’t know. From Aristotle to a young Sigmund Freud, many have tried and failed to pin down the eel’s slippery origins and, astonishingly, to this day no one has ever seen a mature adult European eel in its breeding ground in the Sargasso Sea.

Born in this ‘sea within a sea’ in the North Atlantic, tiny eel larvae spend three years crossing the ocean to Europe. They transform to glass eels and then yellow eels as they migrate inland to rivers and lakes where they spend the next 15 to 30 years.

Then some unknown trigger makes the fish mature into silver eels, which wander thousands of miles home to the Sargasso Sea to breed and die.

And now the once-abundant eel is critically endangered, thanks to humans. ‘Is it possible to erase a creature that has existed for at least 40 million years?’ asks Svensson.

Sadly, it seems it may be. We must hope that this marvellous book is not the eel’s eulogy.

Shaoni Bhattacharya-Woodward

 

The White Ship

Charles Spencer                                                                           William Collins £25

Rating:

The sinking of the White Ship, nine centuries ago in 1120, is often called ‘the medieval Titanic’. And superficially these two shipping tragedies had much in common. 

A state-of-the-art vessel set out on a much publicised voyage and, thanks to some degree of naval incompetence, hit a static object in the water and sank. Life-saving attempts were bungled. 

Many people died. The terrors of the poor souls who drowned in freezing waters were later reported far and wide, the pathos layered on thick.

The sinking of the White Ship (above), nine centuries ago in 1120, is often called ‘the medieval Titanic’. And superficially these two shipping tragedies had much in common

The sinking of the White Ship (above), nine centuries ago in 1120, is often called ‘the medieval Titanic’. And superficially these two shipping tragedies had much in common

Yet whereas the sinking of Titanic in 1912 was essentially a commercial disaster, the sinking of the White Ship was a political catastrophe. It changed European history. In England, the loss of life led to a civil war than lasted nearly 20 years. 

In dynastic terms it ended the rule of the Norman kings descended from William the Conqueror and ushered in the Plantagenet era of Henry II and Richard the Lionheart. So although the Titanic got the movie treatment with Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio, the White Ship is really the bigger story.

Charles Spencer understands all this. His new account of the White Ship is rooted in the medieval chronicles, but crafted like a Hollywood thriller. Spencer is one of the finest narrative historians around – previous books about the battle of Blenheim and the killers of Charles I both ripped along with pace and verve. 

But he also knows his stuff. It is never easy to make sense of the murky world of the 12th Century, still less to flesh out its characters. But this story fairly rattles towards its terrible denouement.

What happened aboard the White Ship was this: in November 1120, Henry I, King of England, and his teenage son and heir, William ‘the Aetheling’, were sailing from Barfleur in Normandy to the south coast of England. 

They were in celebratory mood, having concluded tortuously long political negotiations with Louis VI of France, nicknamed ‘Louis the Fat’. Henry’s ship set off first. 

But William had borrowed a high-powered vessel – the White Ship – and meant to show it off and have a party. Much wine was taken, by the crew as well as the passengers, who included a number of William’s illegitimate half-siblings and a slew of young aristocrats. 

Priests who came to bless the boat were sent away with drunken jeers.

Late at night the White Ship left port. But under half-cut command, within minutes it hit a large rock at the mouth of the harbour and started taking on water – fast. In the scramble for lifeboats, William drowned, along with every other passenger but one: a butcher called Berold, who survived to tell the awful tale.

When Henry heard the news, he was inconsolable. And rightly so. Although he reigned until 1135, he never produced another legitimate heir, and was forced instead to leave England to his daughter, Matilda. 

His barons rejected her queenship, so she dug in for a war for the throne against her cousin Stephen. This was settled only in 1154. It is known today as the Anarchy – but some contemporaries called it ‘the Shipwreck’. 

That feels more apt – and Spencer’s lively, meticulous new book shows us why.

Dan Jones

 

Hey Hi Hello

Annie Nightingale                                                                           White Rabbit £20

Rating:

Annie Nightingale was awarded an MBE in 2001 (since ‘upgraded’ to a CBE). ‘Radio 1 DJ,’ she informed the Queen at her investiture, breaking protocol by speaking first. It’s entirely possible that Her Majesty is the only Brit who would need to be told. 

Now aged 80, Nightingale is a broadcasting legend. She made her name in the 1960s as the journalist who earned the trust of The Beatles and told David Bowie, correctly: ‘You are the future!’ 

In 1970 she became the first female DJ on Radio 1 and is still there 50 years later, the station’s longest-serving presenter. Going on to host The Old Grey Whistle Test after Bob Harris was seen off by punk, she dived into acid house in her 50s, partied with Primal Scream in her 60s, and more recently became an enthusiastic advocate of grime.

In 1970 Annie Nightingale (pictured above in 1964) became the first female DJ on Radio 1 and is still there 50 years later, the station’s longest-serving presenter

In 1970 Annie Nightingale (pictured above in 1964) became the first female DJ on Radio 1 and is still there 50 years later, the station’s longest-serving presenter

Neither nostalgia nor pigeonholes have ever been her bag, so perhaps it’s only to be expected that this tombola of a book jumps around like a rusty needle on a scratched LP. 

It flits eccentrically between eras and issues, mixing (veiled) memoir, industry overview and personal encounters with the likes of Dusty Springfield, Bob Marley, Marc Bolan and John Lennon. 

Transcribed verbatim, these interviews have charm but little substance, while Nightingale’s easy conversational style – so winning on the wireless – works less well on the page, as she embarks on odd digressions into the Falklands War and the volcanic history of Montserrat.

While her enthusiasm and affection for music always shines through, and her pro tips – be nice; ‘don’t ever, ever be late’ – underscore Nightingale’s integrity, in the end Hey Hi Hello feels like an unfocused double album from a superstar artist: a few hits, a lot of filler.

Graeme Thomson    

Leave a Comment