Julia Barrett's World

If I had another daughter, I’d name her Artemis, for the Greek goddess of the hunt.

Of course, she’d hate me because then people would call her either Artie or Missy. No, really, Artemis is my favorite Greek goddess. She’s a woman of action, she kicks butt - look at her the wrong way and she’ll change you into a man who stares at his reflection day and night! Aphrodite ain’t so bad, but her Roman counterpart, Venus, is such a loser! And Athena, popping fully-formed out of Zeus’ forehead! How do you like those apples???

In truth, I’m quite fond of the Greek gods and their oh-so-human foibles, petty jealousies and internecine feuds on Mount Olympus. I have a four-part work of futuristic science fiction romance coming out in July and August, Daughters of Persephone - which is loosely based on my favorite story of the lovely Persephone, her kidnapper, Hades, God of the Underworld, and her mother Demeter, Goddess of Nature.

Persephone was, herself, a Goddess of the Natural World. One day, she was out innocently picking flowers when the God of the Underworld, Hades, spied her. He burst through a cleft in the earth and carried her off to the underworld. As a result, without Persephone, the earth lay barren. Her devastated mother searched for her and finally, the sun told her what had happened. Her father, Zeus, hearing the cries of his hungry people and hearkening to the pleas of the other gods, forced Hades to return Persephone, however, things did not go according to plan. The Fates had decreed that anyone who ate or drank anything in the Underworld would have to remain there for all eternity. Hades knew this rule and he tricked Persephone into eating six…count ‘em…six pomegranate seeds. Therefore, six months out of the year, Persephone must return to the Underworld - and we have autumn and winter, the season of death and dying. When she rises to our world, we have spring and summer, the season of rebirth and growth. Great story!

When I was just a kid, I read a remarkable book - The Children of Odin. I loved the stories within so much that I begged the librarian to give me the old, musty, repaired copy containing incredible illustrations, in exchange for a brand new copy! She did! I cherish the book even now. The Children of Odin contains stories of Norse mythology. If you can find, beg, borrow, buy a copy, maybe upload a copy from somewhere, read it. There is nothing more compelling than the vision of the father of the gods, Odin, hanging upside down from the Tree of All Knowledge, the world ash, Yggdrasil. In other words, he allowed himself to be crucified upside down. He was even pierced by a spear - all in order to gain ultimate wisdom.

I know that I hung on a windy tree

nine long nights,

wounded with a spear, dedicated to Odin,

myself to myself,

on that tree of which no man knows

from where its roots run.

Anyway, check it out. Norse mythology has influenced everything from comic books to Richard Wagner (who I should hate, but I love his music), to video games.

Are you fond of mythology? What’s your favorite?

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War of the Worlds

I came home after a tough day of work, showered…because after a day of dealing with the situations I deal with I often feel like I need a shower…pulled on my jammies and climbed into bed. At 7:20 in the evening. I reached for my book. I’m reading Corvus, A Life With Birds, by Esther Woolfson, which is a series of engrossing tales about her feathered friends and how they’ve come to be integrated into her home, her life and her heart. Meanwhile, my own two birds, their cage covered, were murmuring in their sleep as they do, kind of pillow talking. Occasionally I could catch a distinct word, usually not. And of course, suffering from ADD as I do, I flipped on the TV - sometimes I find that I concentrate better if I concentrate against something. In this case, that something turned out to be Steven Spielberg’s relatively recent version of H.G. Wells, War of the Worlds.

I must admit I didn’t enjoy the movie when I saw it in the theater. Yes, the special effects were impressive, but it was the story that disappointed me - I found it too embellished and gory, too unnecessarily convoluted and too far removed from the spare original versions, written, radio and film. But I noticed something last night, other than Tom Cruise’s short thighs and Dakota Fanning’s unusually large, wide-set eyes. There is a common thread running through many of our popular movies these days - the archetype of the hand of man. Yes, we screw things up. Yes, we ignore warning signs. Yes, we behave in stupid, self-destructive ways. And yet…when our backs are against the wall, we, as a species, have the capacity to square our shoulders and find within ourselves unexpected courage and compassion. Of course as the movie shows us, we are also equally capable of killing each other in our haste to steal a car, an action that will just get us killed in turn.

Gory or not, the archetype of the hero has survived the ages. Men and women who rise above their station in life to achieve the unexpected, the sublime, even if they lose their own lives in the process. Think Greek mythology, Norse mythology, Beowulf, the Mabinogion, the dream of Camelot.

Thus we have the romance novel - not so different from Tristan and Isolde, the triad of Lancelot, Arthur and Gwenevere, Abelard and Heloise, Romeo and Juliet, Isis and Osiris - all tragedies, but heroic love stories nonetheless.

So, how did I get from there to here? Hmm…I think it was as simple as watching Tom Cruise play an unlikely hero in a lousy movie. Even schmucks can rise to the occasion.

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