Book Review: Medea

My best friend loves Madea. I'm not really the world's biggest Tyler Perry fan, but I do respect that Madea, with her tough exterior and warm heart, has at least a little in common with Medea, the ancient Greek sorceress.

I'm reviewing Medea, the ancient Euripides play. I've actually seen it performed (my high school had a very dedicated theater program) but mostly I'm reviewing it as a book, because I think that's how most people experience it nowadays. Plus, I don't have the ability to judge theater.

Medea tells the story of the sorceress Medea, who is left by her husband for another woman. This is pretty much the entire plot structure: what you then get is about an hour and a half of rage, betrayal, and hatred. The story is told entirely through dialogue—as you'd expect for a play—but most of the important information comes from lengthy monologues, mostly by Medea herself. Those are what make the play an interesting read: like a novel, you start to get what's going on in her head.

The answer, perhaps disappointingly, is "not very much." Medea is venomously angry at her husband, his young new bride, the local king; that's about the sum of it. She doesnt seem to realize that she's probably mostly mad at herself, which is understandable. In fact, I think that's the crux of the drama: She thinks she's been betrayed by her husband. But the real betrayal is her own.

We don't meet Medea the maiden in this play, but I know it. I read Percy Jackson; I also had the stock Greek mythology books all bookish girls grow up with. When I first met her, I was enchanted: I loved Medea. I'm an easy sell: there is nothing I've ever liked more than a beautiful, powerful sorceress; this was true when I was 6 and it's still true today.

Jason bothered me because he took away the possibility that Medea offered. She was a princess, a sorceress, and a child of gods. She fell in love with this pompous man; saved his life, killed her brother for him, bore his children. But none of it was by her own design: their love was decreed not by romance but by the will of the gods. Their love was hollow and unnatural. She was willing to endure that passionless dedication, but he was not. He took action, while she was made a fool.

Greek heroes are actors, by which I mean they act. They struggle against fates and often die; they're frequently bad people. What makes them heroes is they try to work their will on a resistant world. Medea fails to do so for most of her life. Jason's betrayal forces her to confront that he can act, and she never has. So she decides to act, and reaching that point is the crux of the book.

The climax is incredible. What's wonderful is seeing her realize that she can act; she is the child of gods; she doesn't need to act under their will alone. She can ask them for favors. The ending is a little unexpected, but it bears my point out. The gods notice and seem to support her. They don't mind her deciding to act; in fact, they seem to be rewarding it. They are beyond good and evil, after all. They admire heroism.

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I should mention that when I first read this, I was also drinking. I don't drink alcohol normally, but one night I felt like trying it. I had a couple Twisted Teas a friend brought over and paced back and forth in my kitchen, book in hand, mumbling some of the monologues to myself and grinning.

I'm not really a party animal.