Not mine, Jeanette Winterson’s. In the same series as Atwood’s Penelopiad, it’s the re-telling of Atlas and Herakles’ story (I was very glad she called him that, not Hercules, although she spelt it with a ‘c’. Anyway). It’s very different from Penelope’s story, because Winterson has put herself into the story to some extent, talking about the changes and boundaries and re-telling stories from her own perspective. The story is mostly told from Atlas’ point of view, although some is from Herakles, which was also interesting: he is totally the thug, which of course he was when you cut to the bone. Atlas came across as very gentle; Winterson gives him a curious back-story: living on Atlantis, giving a reason for the war against the gods….
It’s good. Sometimes I don’t really understand why people who write seemingly serious literature insist on having sex in their books, but there you go – guess I can’t have everything my way.