Electra

Greek Trilogy

by Henry Treece

Treece's Electra reveals more than the private lives of Electra and Agamemnon, of Clytemnestra and Orestes. Written from Electra's point of view, it shows in action the many forces which contributed at last to the downfall of Mycenae's brilliant culture, and the coming of the Dorian Dark Age which was to last for five hundred years and more.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fantasy, Mythology, Fiction, Ancient History

ebook

First published January 1, 1963

About the author

Henry Treece (1911-1966) was a British poet and writer, who also worked as a teacher and editor. He wrote a range of works but is mostly remembered as a writer of children's historical novels.

Reviews

[Marquise · Rating 4 out of 5]

*WARNING: Spoilery spoilers that spoil spoileringly.*

I like it when I approach a book with the suspicions a scalded cat approaches a pond, only to discover the water was good and it doesn't want to get out. This book worked like that, because of the reviews that spoilt it for me that there'd be huge deviations from the "canonical" story of Electra & the House of Atreus as per Aeschylus & Sophocles & Euripides, I started reading it with hackles already raised.

I mean, reviews said that Electra would be involved in a significant way in the murder of Agamemnon. Beg yer pardon? How could it possibly work in any novel worth the pence paid for it, I couldn't fathom. The whole point of Electra's role, no, her existence in Greek mythology is her misguided love for her father and the things she does for that love! Siggy Freud didn't say "The Electra Complex is when you hate 'n' loathe your daddy and want to murder him." How was I going to expect anything less than a literary version of a trainwreck, then?

Yet Henry Treece made it work, and for that he deserves all the kudos and posthumous toasts to his memory. Yes, he does in effect deviate hugely from the Greek canon. Too much, in reality. To give only a few hints without spoiling it much, the Princess Electra in this novel is a moody brat and so poorly-mannered for a royal (and even for a plebs) that she'll tempt you to want to mentally rattle her teeth. Her mother Queen Clytemnestra is at the same time more relatable and just as sinister as we've known her in the old plays. The former's lover, Aegisthus, is also given a sympathetic backstory and sensible motivations whilst still giving off repellent vibes. Her sister Chrysothemis' odd siding with and supporting of her mother and her murderous lover is explained away with certain reasons that make her more pitiable as well as more justifiable than what the classical playwrights told us about her. Her brother Orestes isn't all that different from the canon, at least to me, and it's this detail that becomes one of the big clues as to what's really happening. And Agamemnon . . .

Ah, Agamemnon. He's still larger-than-life, as he was meant to be, villainy nothwithstanding. He's shown as this godlike giant through the adoring eyes of little Electra, and flawed and punchable through the jaded eyes of Clytemnestra. The reasons he has for going to war with Troy would send dear Homer into apoplectic rage fits, because they don't contain a single paltry atom of heroic or honourable rationale. No, it's plain old stinky Realpolitik, immediate needs. And Helen's participation in this scheme, you'll have to read for yourself to assess, but this I will tell you: the harlot insults thrown at her have a reason to exist, and not just because of Paris. Similarly, the sacrifice of Iphigenia has a cause that'll disgust many a reader regardless of their familiarity with the legend, and is the reason Electra has for taking the rosy-tinted blinders off her eyes.

It was at that point that I was ready to pick up my metaphorical pitchfork and started sharpening the edges to trash this particular choice of plot, and then . . . I began to pay attention to the small hints here and there that clued an attentive reader as to the reality of the events not being as Electra was leading us to believe. It's a first person POV, after all, and by definition unreliable. But not only that, it was also things like that Electra would from time to time stop for an aside to the Hittite doctor she's telling her story to, to muse that she's so old she doesn't know anymore if what she's telling really happened. There's also the story of the fishes as a fable for reality vs perception that Clytemnestra tells her as a child. And so on. So when the epilogue rolls in, and we read the assessment of the Hittite doctor, enumerating the odd things round the house that contradict the old woman's tale, it finally dawns on you that it doesn't really matter if Treece went against the canon, because he's using the unreliable narrator technique on top of clues that the old woman is mad.

So, is it or isn't it Electra here? Is the story real or false? You have to draw conclusions on your own, and they may be different to the physician's conclusions. As for me, I'm thinking it's one of two possibilities: either it's not really Electra but another woman of the same name that grew up knowing her legend and lost her mind in senility or due to trauma, believing herself the one true Princess Electra (as in an Anna Anderson/Grand Duchess Anastasia scenario); or she's really the true Electra that lost her mind in her old age due to trauma and tragedy, or old age, and is rewriting her true story concerning her parents out of guilt and mental torment due to familial tragedy (as in an PTSD-induced insanity/Orestes & the Furies scenario).

Do read this, and see what you'll think!

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wildly original and imaginative retelling of the Greek myth of Electra and the Fall of the House of Atreus. I feel this version compares favorably with the ancient Greek dramas on this subject and with the Strauss/von Hofmannsthal opera, Elektra. The author has taken the bare bones of the myth and pressed his own stamp upon it. He has concentrated on Agamemnon's family left behind in Mycenae. I appreciated the author's omitting the details of the Trojan War; I feel it's already covered enough in literature and film.

Electra as an old woman tells her personal life's story to a Hittite physician. The life of the family and their fates are recounted through the passage of years. Aegisthus' insinuation of himself into the royal family and into a position of power, the devotion of Electra's eunuch slave to her, as well as the stories of Orestes, Hermione [Electra's cousin] and sister Chrysothemis are told. Each of the characters is a vivid personality. Electra's hero worship of Agamemnon turns quickly to burning hatred after he has her sister, Iphigenia, sacrificed to gain fair winds to Troy. Electra's premonition of this in a fever dream is especially chilling. When Agamemnon returns from Troy, his wife Clytemnestra, Electra, and Aegisthus are involved in his brutal murder. Electra tells of the madness of her brother Orestes, her marriage to and love of her husband Pylades, Orestes' good friend. The House of Atreus is doomed. Mycenae suffers a Dark Age after the coming of the Dorians. After all the narrative, we are left to ponder: Is it really that of Electra or just the ravings of a mad old woman?

[Iset · Rating 5 out of 5]

Electra has the feel of an epic, remarkably, even though it is a fairly short book. It tells such an epic story, and populates it with characters of vivid personality and fallibility, shown through judiciously selected scenes of gripping drama. Treece wisely doesn’t bother re-telling the Iliad, a tale that has been retold over and over in modern historical fiction so frequently that I’ve almost got Troy fatigue from the slew of Troy based novels I’ve been reading recently. Treece instead focuses on telling the story of the treacherous blood feud of the Mycenaean royal family, through the eyes of those left behind; namely, Princess Electra, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra. Rather than relating every detail of Electra’s life, Treece keeps the drama flowing and the tedium non-existent by giving us only selected scenes that are relevant and have the greatest impact on Electra’s life. He shows rather than tells, even though the entire tale is narrated by Electra in first person as an old woman looking back on her life. Even though the tale is reasonably well known to Greek myth fans, Treece still keeps the suspense and surprise factor high by exploiting the gaps in the original myth. I find it hard to find anything to criticise, other than I wish it were longer.

This book was, I guess, considered risqué for the time it was written, since it contains homosexual relationships – but for modern readers it’s tame – whilst the homosexual relationship is implied, it’s all off-screen and Treece avoids being explicit.

I adore this book. I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since I read it as a child. It gripped me then, and it gripped me again now as an adult. Told in first person past tense from the perspective of Electra herself as an old woman, the legendary princess of Mycenae tells the story of her life. I’m usually not a big fan of first person in historical fiction, but it is done so well here. Electra as an old woman barely intrudes on the narrative at all, and has a wonderful personality of worldliness, weariness, and wisdom, combined with just enough ambiguity that the reader is clearly meant to question whether or not she’s telling the truth about her recollections, or even whether she is Electra at all or just some mad old woman. Treece leaves the question entirely open for us as readers to decide, and I love that, I love the way the story gets me to think about it and come to my own conclusions. The soaring heart of the narrative is, of course, Electra’s earlier life, and it’s absolutely vividly brought to life. Such is Treece’s skill that he evokes the senses in his descriptions and can create sensations of unsettledness, transcendancy, surreality, and more in me as a reader, and switch smoothly from one sensation to another with seamlessness. I feel completely transported into the scenes he writes.

The characters are incredibly human; deftly and subtly rendered, hugely flawed, and forgivable in their flawed yet human decisions. These characters have agency, but so does everyone else in this world, and this is an epic story where characters rise up over some and are beaten down by others. Treece’s writing style is practised, his knowledge of the language broad, and he uses subtle and clever references to create a sense of individuality and culture; and he avoids repetition and hammering over the head. He also doesn’t shy away from the hard ending. I’ve noticed a number of books recently, across genres, ducking out of characters facing hard decisions or any conclusion that isn’t a happy one, and I just don’t care for those books. They don’t evoke my emotions, they don’t induce any empathy for the characters, and they quickly fade from my memory. What I want are books like Electra, and A Song of Ice and Fire, and Sunne in Splendour, and Lords of the Two Lands. Bad things happen to good people in real life, people are complex and ambiguous in real life, the unexpected happens in real life. Books that recreate the complexity and ambiguity of reality feel more immersive and make me care more. I don’t like books that duck out of this, portray people as either good or bad, are predictable, or oversimplify things – they just bring the story down. Electra may be an old book but it succeeds magnificently, and I’m glad I’ve discovered that this author wrote other books set in ancient Greek myths. I look forwards to reading them.

I'm just going to leave you with some of my favourite quotes.

p. 7: “But doctor, even you, a Hittite, saw what our Mycenaean shields were like! Oh, don’t smile, I may be an old woman, but I known what I am talking about, and if you will be patient, you will understand, too… You do not see the wholeness of things, the Virtue, the arête. You observe one fact, the single symptom, like the Hittite doctor you are, but your eyes are blind to the Ananke, the whole Order of things which even the gods cannot infringe. The shield is formed on a frame, and that frame is the will of man. But after the sun and rain have been on it a week, its shape has changed beyond man’s guiding; and that is Ananke… though I began upon a firm frame, the hide of my experience has tautened and twisted until now I am as Ananke will me to be. I am not what I wished, or others wished for me: I am what it was ordained for me to become ever the seed passed from my father to my mother. I am the cow’s hide, tormented to the only shape it can be. Now do you see? Do you see that there may be no anger, no regret, no remorse?”

p. 96: “My anger lasted me until we had stabled the horses and I had strode into the feast-chamber. Then it drained from me like water from a broken cask. My mother was lolling at the board, her tilted cup spilling wine down her breast, her hair as matted as a dog’s. She was holding the hand of Aegisthus, who sat in royal robes, in my father’s chair, chuckling and fat. I must have stood in the doorway aghast, for Aegisthus suddenly shouted out in his hoarse voice, ‘Come, girl, is this the way to greet your new father? Is this the famous courtesy of Mycenae? I thought we might expect better than this, daughter!’ I said, ‘You are not my father. You are not even fit to stand in his shadow. If he were here, Agamemnon would beat you into the yard with the other dogs.’ His face darkened and he struck on the board with the ivory haft of his meat-knife. My mother still smiled with purple-lipped stupor…”

p. 168: “My heart thumped so wildly, I tore away my black bandage and saw that the youth in the rushes was Orestes, Orestes with his golden hair flying wild. And already he had the fringe of beard growing thick at his chin… Orestes rose and put his arm about Pylades’ waist, and they stood above me, together, in the sunlight that shone through the new green leaves in that grove. Together, they looked so comely, I could have eaten them! No, doctor, I did not mean to say that, it slipped out. Forget those words; I meant that I could have loved them to madness. I thought that they were second only to dear Hermione in her light-armour and her play-helmet, lying among the crushed lavender in the breathless heat of the evening.”

10 out of 10

[Johnny · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you’ve ever watched some of the classic Greek plays, particularly those surrounding the Trojan War, some of it may have been slightly confusing. The dramatists assumed that most of the viewers knew the names of the characters and had a rough idea of the events. The plays were to put those events in perspective or serve as a warning for future generations. The Amber Princess is a retelling of those events in novel form. It may not clarify all the details for you and you may not even agree with Henry Treece’s interpretations of said events, but this is a gritty treatment of the story from the perspective of Electra, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, brother of Orestes, and niece of, yes, Helen of Troy—the face that launched a thousand ships. The Amber Princess was written in 1963 well before orchestrated incidents in the Gulf of Tonkin rationalized the subsequent military action, but I’m surprised this didn’t become a cult classic in the later ‘60s and early ‘70s. The thoughts on war would have said so much to the generation of the Vietnam Conflict.

From Electra’s perspective, the whole war rationale was a propaganda coup. Her Uncle Menelaus had conspired with Agamemnon and even set it up for Helen to be able to sneak out of Mycenae. Also, from Electra’s perspective Menelaus and Helen are reunited to reign over Egypt. Electra’s perspective is also a very pagan perspective. She pays attention to many gods and, at one point, “becomes” the goddess. Don’t get me wrong. There is no apotheosis to divinity, just an assumption of the role.

The novel doesn’t follow Sophocles’ version of Electra’s story. Orestes and Pylades come to her in Mycenae in the play while, through a series of traumatic events, they find her in a distant land and they have lives outside of Mycenae before heading for the conclusion. In the play Orestes pretends to be carrying an urn with his own ashes; in the novel, Orestes discovers Electra in a compromising position. In the play, Electra is sort of a female Hamlet wanting revenge on her mother for killing Agamemnon in the baths. In the novel, Agamemnon’s death is a bit more complicated (and ritualistic) than that. In the play, Clytemnestra is clearly villainous; in the novel, she is cold at times and warm at times such that it is difficult to see her nature clearly.

Personally, I was surprised to such matter-of-fact (but not “graphic” in today’s sense) mentions of lesbianism, incestuous desires (well, duh! Think of what Freud did with Electra!), orgies, and prostitution (both “sacred” and “professional”). I didn’t find any of it titillating, but I wasn’t really expecting it except in relationship to Agamemnon. But Treece doesn’t follow Sophocles’ or Euripides’ approaches to the story. He has his own take and it is interesting. But, in all fairness, I’m not sure anyone would enjoy this novel without some background in the Greek Classics from which Treece took his inspiration. That is what makes this an average book in my opinion. Of course, that’s just my opinion.

[Sarah Morgan Sandquist · Rating 1 out of 5]

I loved this book as a kid, far below the intended aaudience age. I think I regret rereading it.

No one tells a story like Henry Treece. The stakes are so high, the pacing so terse that it's just not possible to pace yourself; to disengage from the action on the pages.

However, I disliked quite a lot of aspects this time around.

The myth of Electra seems to be poorly adapted into this plot. In fact, it seems stretched to the point of breaking. Though the original myth has Electra and her brother Orestes avenging their murdered father by killing their mother and her lover, Treece has taken massive liberties by heavily rearranging these characters' loyalties. It seems done to the point where, we're all character and place names changed, one would not recognize the theme at all, or, at best, think it only loosely inspired by the tale. The characters also do not undergo the fates the myths tell of either. Sure, this could be creative deviation, but then - why not make his own story? Why not simply created a returning Greek, a minor king and let imagination rum rampant?

Also, the storyline itself actually reminds me a lot of Treece's other works that I've read, the green man and the invaders. All the details that do so are the author's own invention and take away from the story being told, yet are monumental to the plot.

An additional content warning [or rather two]:
And it is also one which could be appended to others of Treece's work and it is one of unnecessary and heavily fleshed out incest.

Now, I know what you're thinking:
The book stars Electra, subject of the eponymous Electra complex - obviously there's a hint of incest. Well, yes. But Electra's little crush on her father, Agememnon is dealt with briefly, before heaps of other and far more physical familial relationships manifest for no reason whatsoever, tarry far too long on the page and are discarded immediately with a puzzlingly careless hand.

And the second, also necessary to be aware of with this author's work:
Pedophilia. And again, you'd think: it was a different time - girls were getting married at the age of fourteen and our modern ethics were not in effect so long ago as these stories were created. And again, you'd be right. But these instances aren't included in the original myth, nor do I speak of the practice of marrying girls off young. The author chose to include references to an incident of such little importance (though it is brought up multiple times) that I have no fear of spoiling anything of importance in the book: Electra in narration makes repeated mention of having been raped or molested by Nestor, the very aged Greek king from the Illiad. Why is not made known and it actually has no bearing on the plot.

I wish i had left this book in my past, a pretty; confusing picture.

[Alex Sarll]

"More lesbianism and ritual prostitution than delicate stomachs are likely to accommodate", promises the review quote blazoned across the front cover - but this is a 1963 edition, and to sensibilities forged after the beginning of sexual intercourse it's a book you'd call haunting, strange, sensual, but hardly filthy. Treece gives Electra's own account of the Atreides' bloody end, taking Robert Graves' lead in unearthing older myths within the classical versions we know. He then matches that with what historians have pieced together of an age that's only barely historical, and asks what might have been going on behind closed doors to provide the grit around which those pearls of legend coalesced. Electra and her kin are human here, but crucially, that doesn't mean anything so banal as them being 'just like us' - even the precursors of the classical Greeks are alien and sordid to this aristocratic, alien breed. The result is heady, often heartbreaking; though clearly a product of its time, it offers too that sense of a true window on a strangely other past which only the best historical fiction can conjure.

[Keith Currie · Rating 4 out of 5]

An old woman tells her story to a Hittite doctor in Dorian Dark Age Greece. She claims to be Electra, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, the last great Achaean rulers of Mycene. Here at the close of the Greek Bronze Age are portraits of Helen and Paris, Odysseus and Achilles, Iphigeneia and Orestes, Electra and Pylades - all as they might have been in reality. Treece writes an imaginative, darkly violent tale, set convincingly in a richly described Greece, culminating with the overthrow of Mycenaean civilisation by the brutal, illiterate, but pragmatic Dorians.

[Bibliophile · Rating 3 out of 5]

After a recent foray into nonfiction about the late Bronze Age and the fall of civilizations, I went back to this novel, which I read many, many years ago and which I still remembered in pieces. It's well-written (apparently Treece was a bit of a poet as well as a novelist?) but ... I think his shtick was to turn myth into history (he does this with Oedipus and Jason as well) and basically the four decades since this was written have contained archaelogical advances that pretty much rendered his "historicization" totally invalid. There was no "nomadic Dorian invasion", no 500 year return to primitivism, in Ancient Greece - the palaces at Mycenae and Pylos and Tiryns were destroyed, yes, but a lot of things continued on as before or evolved gradually over decades rather than disappearing as the result of some kind of devastating barbarian invasion.

Anyway, with that said, Electra herself is still as crazy as remembered and the creepy images of an aging Clytemnestra remain with me as vividly as they did all those years ago. So ... 3 stars?

[Kara · Rating 2 out of 5]

While, on the one hand, this version does give a good gritty, realistic look at Bronze Age Greece, with all gods and magic stripped out and the realism of war poured heavily in, but, on the other hand, this book is an insult to any woman who has worked a job, taken care of a household, raised the kids, and done all the socially required emotional labor, on a tiny budget, all by herself, while her husband goes off to play soldier. No, Treece, just because all the manly men went away doesn't mean everyone else is going to get sloppy day drunk, let the house get dusty (the horror!) and start talking in a Cockney accent. Jeez.

[Michelle Mosley · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well, this book is a wild ride; it was both wonderful and terrible. I couldn't put it down and was left speechless at the end. The story of the fall of the house of Atreus (and Mycenaean civilization) as told by an old woman claiming to be Princess Electra. The author really brought this ancient world to life, so vivid and atmospheric, with well drawn characters and settings. I'm so glad to have discovered this out of print book on Goodreads, will have to look into the author's other works.

[Katie-Ellen Hazeldine · Rating 4 out of 5]

Grimly compelling; the story of Electra, told by herself. She recalls the horror of the sacrifice of her sister, Iphigenia, her mother, Clytemnestra's revenge upon Agamemnon for allowing the killing of his own child, the madness of her brother, Orestes; the fall of Mycenae, and the coming of the Dorians. She recalls the gentle eunuch slave who loved her, and her love of the man she marries. A princess becomes a queen but ends in obscurity, betrayed by her surviving sister, branded as a subject and a thrall by Mycenae's conquerors.