A review by michaeljohnhalseartistry
The Golden Mean by Annabel Lyon

4.0

Back in 2009, The Golden Mean, written by Canadian author Annabel Lyon has the distinction of being the only book nominated for all three of Canada’s major fiction prizes: the Scotiabank Giller Prize, the Governor General’s Award for English Language Fiction, and the Rogers Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize, and after finishing this book, I’m hardly surprised at the esteem and acclaim this novel has received.

The Golden Mean explores the relationship between ancient Greek philosopher, and the father of Western Philosophy, Aristotle and his most famous student, Alexander the Great. I have always loved ancient history, and Alexander has been a favourite historical figure of mine since I was a teenager. He was one of the most important and successful military leaders in the entire history of our world and was influential on spreading Greek culture, exploring the east, opening up trade routes, and connecting a large swath of the world that was previously segregated in ancient times. I’ve also always been fascinated with his relationship with Hephaestion, his close childhood friend who also studied under Aristotle, and who remained close to Alexander’s side until his death, shortly before Alexander’s own health failed. While historians dispute whether or not Alexander and Hephaestion were lovers (which, they totally were), Aristotle described their relationship as “one soul abiding two bodies.” To be honest, I expected more of Alexander and Hephaestion’s relationship in this novel, and while their attraction was made perfectly clear, I just wanted more. More gay Alexander!

Back to The Golden Mean, Lyon has written an incredible historical fiction filled with pathos and melancholia. She paints both Aristotle and Alexander as a highly intelligent, curious, and knowledgable characters trapped in a world bound by oppressive customs and a lack of philosophical interest and probing. The melancholic Aristotle is mirrored in Alexander who unnerves those around him because of the darkness that haunts his thoughts and actions. I won’t lie, it took me a while to get into this novel, and especially get used to the dialogue vernacular; Lyon doesn’t “set” the period with her dialogue like most historical authors, instead using similar language and dialogue that you’d hear in today’s day and age, and at first I found that kind of jarring. But slowly, the gentle pathos and calm sadness that Aristotle feels seeps from the words and the characters and grabbed hold of me and fed into some part of me that could relate. All of that isn’t to say that The Golden Mean is a tragic novel, it isn’t. But it doesn’t shy away from the loneliness, sadness, and grief that festered in Aristotle and made him look at things with a different eye than the average person.

This was such a moving, and delicate novel. Not too much happened, plot-wise, it was more a character study of both Aristotle and Alexander and the intersecting of similar souls and identities in a world that was very different from them, but required much of them. I know when I really like a novel, by the way I slow down my reading towards the end, like I don’t want the story to end, like I don’t want to say goodbye the characters, it’s a subconscious reaction I tend to do when I really like something that’s coming to an end, and I totally did that with The Golden Mean. This is a novel that I will absolutely come back to in the future, and one the I will treasure in the present.

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