The Children of Jocasta
by Natalie Haynes (Picador, 2017)
A story as old as time bears retelling. A mother’s grief, star-crossed lovers, and two generations of strife and tragedy – there is so much drama in the story of Queen Jocasta and King Oedipus that it holds up to interpretation and adaption from age to age. From the poetry of Homer’s Odyssey through the stagecraft of Sophocles’ Oedipus Tyrannus through many generations of writers to several 20th century works such as Jean Anouilh’s Antigone, there is ample room for the myth to be remoulded and retold through different eyes and for different times.
Natalie Haynes’ bold novel presents two stories of converging drama and tension, in alternating chapters like immiscible oils each inevitably colouring the other. Jocasta’s story is in the first person; that of Ismene, her daughter (and granddaughter), is in the third person. Queen Jocasta begins her life in the palace of Thebes as a lost and lonely teenager, chosen to bear a loveless king’s child; Princess Isy is the youngest of four siblings, an observer, an intelligent and well-tutored young woman who, in the face of appalling events exercises agency and formidable courage. Both women, trapped as innocents in situations that threaten to overwhelm them, deal with grief and loss in their own ways.
I am a great admirer of Natalie Haynes’ work. Her Radio 4 “Stands Up for the Classics” series has been the epitome of infotainment. She is funny, outspoken, fast-talking and so enthusiastic about the stories – both histories and myths – from ancient Greece and Rome, that it is infectious. She brings a feminist’s laser-sharp critique of how these more-or0less familiar female characters are portrayed in their many reincarnations in the history of literature. She gives them depth, complexity and motive. When the tales of the historical and mythical worlds are dominated by the warlike and power-hungry men, she opens our eyes to the realities of life for women in a patriarchal society, left at home in times of war or raising children and enduring loneliness even within the confines of a royal palace.
Just as there is no such thing as an objective, neutral history (Discuss…), so a retelling of a myth reflects its own time. In Haynes’ hands, this story gives us what no dry plot outline can: a full psychological framework in which the outrageous events can make sense, and with characters who have a complex interior life, both men and women. Particularly women. But by her own entertaining admission in the end notes, she has taken liberties with some historicity to achieve this. Elements of Athens and other ancient city states have been grafted onto what little we know of real and mythic Thebes. Haynes has played fast and loose with the archaeology to furnish the tale with recognisable functional objects, and turned younger siblings into older, and invented characters to provide the main characters’ companions, tutors and other plot devices. This is nothing less than any storyteller does, and Natalie Haynes does brilliantly.
Even for those who know the story well, the tragedy rolls over us as the plot lines converge and the denouement is always shocking. But if for some inexplicable reason you have got through life without knowing the legend of Oedipus, I will offer one spoiler: there is no happy ending!
Why should a mortal man, the sport of chance, / With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid? / Best live a careless life from hand to mouth.
Sophocles (the reassuring words of Jocasta to her husband, before the penny drops…)
Elsewhere on the bookshelf
- A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes (Pan Macmillan, 2019)
- Pandora’s Jar: Women in the Greek Myths by Natalie Haynes (Pan Macmillan, 2020)
- Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics, BBC Radio 4 (8 Series): BBC Sounds – Natalie Haynes Stands Up for the Classics – Available Episodes