Yarnalong: Whisper Cardigan and Ovid's "Metamorphoses"

Well, I'm still plodding along on my Whisper Cardigan, but at least this week I got a picture that shows the pretty rosewood yarn a little better:

Such a lovely neutral! I think it's because it's got all that pink and green in it - in other words, the shades the neutral's made up of aren't neutral at all.

I'm past the back gather and headed towards the second sleeve. One of the nice things about this pattern is that I can try it on as I go, and thus far I'm pretty happy with the fit.

The book is Ovid's Metamorphoses, which I'm re-reading as research for my next novel, which is going to be set in Bronze-Age Greece. (Well . . . Bronze-Age Greece and an alien planet. Because if mythic heroes are fun, mythic heroes plus aliens are more fun, right?)

I read Ovid back in college, and so far I'm enjoying going through it again, which is not surprising since  Metamorphoses was meant to be entertainment. But I remember getting tired of it by the end last time - all the caprice of the gods, all the death and rape and the mess of the old legends . . . well, even if they are just myths (is there such a thing as just myths?), it's hard to read hundreds of pages of that without weariness. Maybe it'll be different now since I'm reading it with the purpose of mining it for story ideas? My plot might have its dark moments, but I intend it to be full of a good deal more forward action and purpose and even redemption than Ovid is . . . hmm. I'll have to pay attention to see if there's a difference between reading-Ovid-for-class and reading-Ovid-looking-for-spare-parts. :D

So, if you were going to retell a myth, which one would you choose? And, more interestingly . . . would you keep the original ending, or give it a more hopeful spin?

. . . speaking of old myths retold, if you're looking for the best example ever, you just cannot go wrong with Till We Have Faces, C. S. Lewis' retelling of the Cupid and Psyche myth. Oh my goodness. It might be the most perfectly-written novel ever. The first time I read it I felt like I was banging my head against a concrete wall - it was just so big and solid and I could tell I just wasn't mature enough to take it all in (I, um, was a teenager at the time). The second time I read it I said, "This is the best book I've ever read". (Older teenager reaction there.) And I've reread it regularly ever since, loving it more every time. (Yay adulthood!)

So, ah, I suppose the moral of this post is "forget the Ovid, go read Lewis"? Not what I meant to say when I started out . . . :D

More yarn and book goodness can be found here, at Ginny's blog.

Peace of Christ to you,
Jessica Snell