I came across this book by chance. I love medusa for the same reason the author does, I think: I went through similar things, and the narrative of medusa was what I used to recover, to give name to what I was feeling (anger, sadness, other things I still have difficulty naming).
I've read some terrible books about or featuring medusa before. I've read some that were off the wall. I've read some that were decent. I've read some that I'll reread and some that I'll never touch again. I've read every article or short story I can find, every poem, everything from newspapers to jstor to essay collections to theses from the eighties. And this one is the best, hands down. This one is the one that I could not put down, that I both feared finishing and needed to finish. This book, this tiny, beautiful book, gave name to those unnameable things.
medusa is wholly human in this story. Her monstrosity lies in the gaze of other people, in being looked at; time and time again she hides herself from people, tries to save them, and cannot -- it's not her choice. Very little is of her own free will, and that which is her own free will is punished. She is silenced, cursed, made forever to hide alone, separate from her family and her people.
I have so many feelings about this story I don't think I'll ever manage to convey all of them. I love the whole of it, and the details of it (the refusal to speak or think his name is something that resonated deeply with me). I love this short aching tender story about trauma, about healing, about fate, about choices, about monstrosity. It makes you ask questions of it that never quite get an answer: what makes a monster? can fate be changed? what kind of healing can this story ever have? I approached it already knowing what happens in the original myths and in the version that the author used, and I hoped despite warnings that the story would be changed, that she would be triumphant, that it might be different this time.
The monster is a monster is a monster. It's never the monsters that get new endings, it's the heroes; and this book makes you wonder why. It represents rape culture very well in my opinion, and echoes things that I've heard or things that I've experienced myself.
Honestly the only bad part about this book, really, is that it was so short. I wanted hundreds more pages. And I would want to tell the author how much this story meant, how it felt to have this narrative written with sensitivity and with skill, to finally see a medusa story that knows trauma and understands trauma and does not belittle it or set it up as a cutesy thing for a man to help her overcome.
I've never written a review before, but I had to make an exception for this. It really is the best story about medusa that I have ever read. I wish more people would find this book, because it really is life-changing and revolutionary. I'll be thinking about this book for a very long time.
Thank you, author, for writing this.