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3.46 AVERAGE
3.46 AVERAGE
“This is how myths work. They are things, creatures, stories, inhabiting the mind. They cannot be explained and do not explain; they are neither creeds nor allegories.”
During World War II, in the lush English countryside, a young girl discovers Norse mythology. Ragnarok by A.S. Byatt uses a child's perspective to explore how stories, even ones from a place very different to our own, can give us somewhere to escape to during difficult times.
Whether you feel this book succeeds or fails at recapturing the magic of ancient myths may depend entirely on which section you're reading at that moment. While the writing is often beautiful, for example, the prose gets so purple at times Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate factory would be proud. I like over-the-top, expressive language but in a book this short, which tries to cover a lot of myths with a very small page count, I was left wondering why so much focus was being given to the types of flowers blooming back in England. Equally, some sections exploring Norse mythology are far more interesting than others.
The rhetoric of many Goodreads accounts and book-blogs circle around likeability and relatability; in other words, current day readers value the degree to which you can empathize with characters. Because they are so different, a novel about the Norse myths solely would be a hard sell. I think this is why Byatt uses the third-person perspective of a thin child in rural England. She wanted to give us someone to connect with while still exploring the strange and twisted stories of Odin, Thor, and many other less recognizable figures. Unfortunately, the child is, while more grounded, flat as a character.
It's often said that the superhero genre could be seen as a modern version of mythical storytelling. There are a number of similarities: super-powered protagonists, varying interpretations from multiple authors across generations often about world-ending events. The thing that really separates them, though, is that superheroes have human concerns. Deities? Not so much. Superman is relatable to a modern audience; he wants to date Lois Lane; he has a nine-to-five job which he struggles to balance with his private life; he looks dorky in glasses. Thor, as presented here, like to hit things and drink. That's really all there is too him. Odin is... stern? Sort of? Angry, too, I suppose.
God's concerns are higher than nine-to-five jobs: they have Ragnarok looming in the distance, and ice giants skulking, and mead to dine on. The children of Loki, however — a snake and wolf which are growing to unstoppable size — but are utterly fascinating. Byatt's does a great job drawing you into the minds of these strange creatures and making you understand their motivations and very inhuman instincts. The same cannot be said, unfortunately, about any of the Gods except Loki, as they never leave the page as anything more than inexplicably angry cardboard cutouts. But that doesn't mean they couldn't have been developed more. Byatt never feels the need to show us what makes them act the way they do the way she did with Fenrir the wolf and Jörmungandr the snake.
This whole book ends up feeling shallow, which is shame, because the potential was there for something truly engaging. Instead we were left with a short introduction to Norse mythology that isn't as interesting as the real book the main character is reading sounds.
During World War II, in the lush English countryside, a young girl discovers Norse mythology. Ragnarok by A.S. Byatt uses a child's perspective to explore how stories, even ones from a place very different to our own, can give us somewhere to escape to during difficult times.
Whether you feel this book succeeds or fails at recapturing the magic of ancient myths may depend entirely on which section you're reading at that moment. While the writing is often beautiful, for example, the prose gets so purple at times Violet from Charlie and the Chocolate factory would be proud. I like over-the-top, expressive language but in a book this short, which tries to cover a lot of myths with a very small page count, I was left wondering why so much focus was being given to the types of flowers blooming back in England. Equally, some sections exploring Norse mythology are far more interesting than others.
The rhetoric of many Goodreads accounts and book-blogs circle around likeability and relatability; in other words, current day readers value the degree to which you can empathize with characters. Because they are so different, a novel about the Norse myths solely would be a hard sell. I think this is why Byatt uses the third-person perspective of a thin child in rural England. She wanted to give us someone to connect with while still exploring the strange and twisted stories of Odin, Thor, and many other less recognizable figures. Unfortunately, the child is, while more grounded, flat as a character.
It's often said that the superhero genre could be seen as a modern version of mythical storytelling. There are a number of similarities: super-powered protagonists, varying interpretations from multiple authors across generations often about world-ending events. The thing that really separates them, though, is that superheroes have human concerns. Deities? Not so much. Superman is relatable to a modern audience; he wants to date Lois Lane; he has a nine-to-five job which he struggles to balance with his private life; he looks dorky in glasses. Thor, as presented here, like to hit things and drink. That's really all there is too him. Odin is... stern? Sort of? Angry, too, I suppose.
God's concerns are higher than nine-to-five jobs: they have Ragnarok looming in the distance, and ice giants skulking, and mead to dine on. The children of Loki, however — a snake and wolf which are growing to unstoppable size — but are utterly fascinating. Byatt's does a great job drawing you into the minds of these strange creatures and making you understand their motivations and very inhuman instincts. The same cannot be said, unfortunately, about any of the Gods except Loki, as they never leave the page as anything more than inexplicably angry cardboard cutouts. But that doesn't mean they couldn't have been developed more. Byatt never feels the need to show us what makes them act the way they do the way she did with Fenrir the wolf and Jörmungandr the snake.
This whole book ends up feeling shallow, which is shame, because the potential was there for something truly engaging. Instead we were left with a short introduction to Norse mythology that isn't as interesting as the real book the main character is reading sounds.
A.S. Byatt's Ragnarok is a lurid retelling of the death of the Norse gods in which intricately woven depictions of nature take center stage. Poetic and insightful, it will remind you not a little of Rachel Carson's nature writing, with a matching insightful prescience.
Byatt makes it clear that any good myth makes no attempt at allegory, but it's hard not to see our own current situation — of environmental degradation, short-sightedness, greed, and ambivalence — in that of the gods' downfall in Ragnarok (which the author addresses in the afterward).
Byatt makes it clear that any good myth makes no attempt at allegory, but it's hard not to see our own current situation — of environmental degradation, short-sightedness, greed, and ambivalence — in that of the gods' downfall in Ragnarok (which the author addresses in the afterward).
A thin child living in the English countryside during World War II, too young to fully comprehend the war that is consuming her world and that has taken her father away to fight, reads a book about Norse mythology that helps her to comprehend the horrors occurring far away in her world. It's part historical fiction, part mythology retelling, and part philosophy. I'm honestly not sure why it's gotten such low ratings; personally, I was blown away by Byatt's prose. It's simple on the surface but has so much depth. I loved the parallels that were drawn between the modern world and the world of Asgard: Byatt doesn't throw it in the reader's face, but lets you draw your own conclusions. It's about the purpose that myths serve humans, how they shape our world, and how they can help us ultimately better understand it.
As much as I love Byatt's writing, the story fell flat to me. I've not read much Norse mythology so that may have been a factor.
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
Gorgeous, easy to read, easy to fall asleep reading (in a good way, I read most of this at night before bed and the long, lush descriptive paragraphs are great for drifting off to). I really love her snake, Jörgmnjndudrdsn (Jörmungandr). Also, reading this as forest fire smoke literally blacks out the sun, I couldn't help but think about the very real manmade apocalypse/Ragnarok/mass extinction as I was reading about this mythical end of days. And clearly Byatt is a very effective writer because she explicitly credits that as an influence in her post script.
If you want a simple and fairly straightforward crash course into Norse mythology, this is possibly the easiest way to have one. It's a story about WWII intertwined with the mythology. I enjoyed the parts about the war, the little glimpses and thoughts of what was going on and how hard it is to comprehend something like a war. The mythology is interesting, but when you're familiar with it, it mostly felt like rereading something you read earlier. I did like how the end of the gods and the end of the war were something like two sides of the same coin. It's a nice and fast read, but not as stunning and intriguing as I hoped it to be.
This is a nice little apocalyptic novel. Byatt's has a lovely way with language, using simple lists to describe scenes that make this quite hypnotic and sumptuous. "Sponges, anemones, worms, crayfish, snails of every colour, ruby, chalky, jet, butter-yellow, sea slugs magnificantly striped and mottled, supping up jelly from the fronds." Isn't that nice? Or "Vast surges of seawater overran the coasts, beaches, rock, harbour walls, delta, estuary, marsh." Beautiful. This was a real treat.
Kind of disappointing. I don't know if I was just missing the point, but there were a whole lot of lists of things, which I always find a little tiresome, and the whole framing story of the thin child in wartime was, well, thin. Got a little more interesting towards the end.
Lush, resplendent. One of the best retellings I've encountered in a long, long time.