A review by thelittleb00kworm
Stone Blind by Natalie Haynes

3.0

Going into Stone Blind, I had very clear expectations. The cover has Medusa’s face on it. The subtitle promises “Medusa’s Story.” Naturally, I assumed this would be her book. I was ready for a deep dive into her perspective, her pain, her rage, her myth. And I didn’t get that.


Truthfully? She’s there, but more as a side character orbiting the gods’ endless drama than as the heart of the narrative. The bulk of this novel is focused on the gods — their petty squabbles, revenge schemes, and endless cycles of cruelty. In that regard, I felt a bit misled, and honestly? A little bitter about it.


But once I let go of my expectations, I could appreciate what Stone Blind is trying to do. This isn’t just Medusa’s story; it’s an unspooling of the whole tangled myth — from mortals to gods to monsters. Haynes weaves together a tapestry of interconnected lives and perspectives. The writing is sharp, often lyrical, and filled with biting commentary about power, cruelty, and the absurdity of these so-called “heroes.”


Perseus, in particular, is no shining example of bravery here. Haynes strips him bare — a selfish, violent boy more interested in fame than fairness. “He is a vicious little thug,” she writes. And she’s right. This book doesn’t bother sugar-coating anyone’s behavior, not even the gods.


What I did appreciate:


  • The broader question this book asks again and again: “Who decides what is a monster?”


  • How the story centers on survival, the echoes of trauma, and how myths twist over time to suit the teller.


  • The narrative jumping between gods, mortals, nymphs, even animals — building a bigger picture out of many small voices.


  • The way Haynes shows how stories evolve through gossip, assumption, and the agendas of men.




At its heart, this is a story about power and consequence. About how the gods — careless and cruel — wreak havoc on mortal lives. About how women are punished for existing, for being beautiful, for being mortal.


And yet… I wanted more of Medusa. I wanted her heartbreak, her fury, her agency on the page. Not fragments, not background noise. A story with her at the center, not the outskirts. Instead, this book is more about the mythos surrounding her, the ripple effects of her tragedy, and how others choose to frame it.


What worked for me:


  • Lyrical prose, sharp commentary


  • Reframing of Greek myths through a feminist lens


  • Medusa’s moments, though brief, were powerful




What didn’t work for me:


  • Too scattered; lacked a clear emotional center


  • Medusa deserved more space, more focus


  • Sometimes felt like it wanted to be a Greek mythology survey more than a novel




In the end, I’m conflicted. I loved the ideas here. I loved the writing. I loved the questions it raised. But I didn’t love this as Medusa’s story. I wanted something more focused, more intimate, more about her.

Still, Stone Blind offers a fresh and thoughtful retelling — one that reminds us myths are rarely about justice and almost never about truth.