Bright Air Black

January 23, 2017
Vann retells the story of Medea, a famously wicked figure from Greek mythology, in this intensely visual but psychologically shallow novel. The story opens with Medea and her soon-to-be-husband, Jason, escaping with the Argonauts from Colchis, Medea’s home. Medea has helped Jason steal the Golden Fleece from her father, the king of Colchis, who now pursues them in his own ship. She’s also brought the corpse of her brother, whom she has murdered and brutally dismembered, on board, aware that her father won’t destroy the Argo as long as his son’s body is on it. Amid her brother’s remains—“fused to the wood, dried and shrunken and infested with maggots”—Medea reflects angrily on the injustice inherent in being a woman and on her desire for dominance. “She should be a queen with no king,” she thinks. “She will not be mastered.” Medea’s rage for power, and her resentment of the various men who would deny her it, only increases when the Argo arrives in Iolcus, Jason’s home, where Medea carries out more violent exploits in her quest for self-determination. Vann writes richly imaginative prose, but his characterization of Medea as a furious barbarian feels both unbelievable and stale—confirming rather than complicating the ideas we already have of her.

January 1, 2017
A retelling of the story of Medea and her exploits with Jason and the Argonauts.Vann's (Aquarium, 2015, etc.) newest work traverses well-trod territory: he's taken Medea as his subject, the mythological character famous for, among other things, murdering her own children. Actually, the circumstances of those murders vary widely among the numerous ancient accounts. Maybe she hadn't meant to kill them; maybe it was an accident; etc., etc. Vann manages to make the story his own. His book begins long before that infamous conclusion, with Medea's flight from her homeland with Jason, seeker of the Golden Fleece, and his men, the Argonauts. Then there is their perilous journey back to Iolcus, where Jason's cruel uncle, Pelias, is king. In Vann's telling, Jason is too weak to usurp the throne, despite Medea's urging, and the two end up enslaved for the next six years. There are other adventures, too, all of which are filtered through Medea's singular consciousness. She's prone to spectacular acts of violence. Before the book even begins, she's hacked her brother to pieces. Vann relates all this in a prose style that aims for lyricism but rather quickly falls short of it. There's a sameness to his sentences, an odd reluctance to use the verb "to be," that quickly becomes tiresome. You long for a complete sentence. The fragments stack up: "White glare each morning an oblivion. Distance gone. Shape and shadow and being. Eyes without use, and this water an open desert with no refuge." Unfortunately, Vann, a former Guggenheim fellow, is not at his best here. His fragments are interspersed with bits of dialogue that at times sound suspiciously contemporary: "Anyway," Jason says to Medea at one point. "Leave me alone." Soon after, brimful with rage and the desire for revenge, she thinks, "she will give him plenty to remember." In his ambitious new version of an ancient classic, Vann sacrifices clarity for lyricism but falls short of both.

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October 15, 2016

The multi-award-winning Vann's sense of tragedy enfolded in the everyday is as dead-on as his gorgeously unflinching writing, which will come in handy as he recounts the myth of Medea. Vann does not offer a modern retelling, instead transporting us to third century BCE and giving special voice to the sorceress princess.

Copyright 2016 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

March 1, 2017

After slaying her brother to aid her lover Jason, Medea flees with the Argonauts, her father the king in close pursuit. In Vann's (Aquarium) retelling, the gods do not actually appear. Medea herself acknowledges, "There are no gods, only men." She is wise enough to know that the stories men tell themselves about divine parentage, including her own, are simply a form of self-aggrandizement. The conditions of this world are grim; Vann peels back the layers of myth to depict the ruthless realities of Bronze Age existence. Medea is depicted as a protofeminist antiheroine who must rely on her wits to survive in a world of hostile and brutish men who will betray her. Although traditionally depicted as a dark sorceress, here her "magic" is contrived just to sow fear among men, as women always have "to trick their way out of slavery." The heinous act for which she is best known is transformed in this version, less an act of revenge than one of love and despair. VERDICT Insightful and poetic, dark and atmospheric, this literary reimagining will appeal to patient readers who favor language and mood over plot. [See Prepub Alert, 9/26/16.]--Lauren Gilbert, Sachem P.L., Holbrook, NY

Copyright 2017 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.