Long as the day in the summer time
Deep as the wine dark sea
I’ll keep your heart with mine.
Till you come to me– Loreena McKennitt, “Penelope’s Song”
I’ve had romance and myth on the brain for the past few days, the former because I’ve been busy devouring regency romance novels, and the latter because I’ve been watching documentaries about Joseph Campbell and the hero’s journey. This morning’s Twitter feed also encouraged me along, providing me with Amalia Dillin’s post on why Heracles isn’t her favorite, and Terrell Mims’ excellent discussions on myth and legend.
Greek Romance Sketches, by Kate Beaton
Somewhere in the bubbling cauldron that is my brain, romance and myth merged together, and I started thinking about my favorite love stories from Greek and Roman mythology. The ancients are a passionate bunch; hatred and death tango side-by-side with love and romance. As a child, I found that classical mythology challenged my notion of happily-ever-after, honed and sharpened from too many Disney films (I was actually slightly horrified after I watched Disney’s Hercules and then read the *real* myth. So much death!). After a while, however, I came to appreciate this world where gods meddled and interfered (see: every myth ever written), and mortals were driven by their base instincts and egos.
All of this leads me to Homer’s Odyssey, one of my favorite epic poems. Unlike poor Echo and Narcissus above, Odysseus and his wife Penelope do experience a happy ending. The storyline is simple: Odysseus has spent 20 years trying to return to his home in Ithaka after the end of the Trojan War. Along the way he manages to offend both gods and mortals (including Poseidon, who is enraged at the way Odysseus taunts and provokes the Cyclops), but through his wily intelligence, and the guidance of “grey-eyed Athena,” he manages to finally return home. There he discovers that his home has been overrun by 108 (!) men attempting to win Penelope’s hand in marriage, as they believe him to be dead. Odysseus and his son, Telemachus, slay the suitors, and finally, the wandering warrior can be reunited with his wife.
It’s the reunion that makes my poor little heart stutter and my eyes mist up. Penelope is shrewd, and she challenges Odysseus to prove his identity. In response he describes how he built their marriage bed with his own hands, fashioning it around an ancient olive tree:
