In this new mythological retelling, seething narrator Hera, goddess of women and queens, watches over Penelope as she's harassed by suitors who are determined to take over Ithaca in the absence of Odysseus, still lost on his long journey. Hera is determined to tell us all the stories that only women tell that are much too neglected in The Odyssey and related tales--the more subtle politics and the weaving, background scheming behind the scenes of the wilder male bluster and heroism. Penelope is strong, grasping at straws to keep Ithaca in her hands and her son alive, yet watching her child slip away from her as he judges her for what he sees as weakness. North's book, while occasionally repetitive and a bit long, is also richly poetic and does justice to the very real and frustrating world of women forced to survive within a world of patriarchy, assault, and violence. This is an impassioned plea for the lost, disenfranchised queens of ancient Greece, a love letter to the silenced women of history who had to hide their pain behind their eyes and their skills, capabilities, and power behind false incompetence and ignorance.

The queen of the gods narrates a crackling tale of secrets and intrigue. Penelope has a problem--a few, in fact. First, there are the suitors: about a hundred men who trespass on her hospitality, waiting for her to admit that her husband, Odysseus, is dead and choose a new king of Ithaca. And then there are the pirates who've been harrying the coast, the fact that Ithaca has no men of fighting age to defend it, and the troubling possibility that one of the suitors has sent the pirates to pressure her into capitulating. Perhaps her biggest problem--or opportunity--is that she's a woman, and even as a queen she's expected to stay out of matters of state. As told by Hera, queen of the gods. Penelope's story is one of secrets, of women working in the shadows, unnoticed and underestimated. As Penelope herself puts it, "The greatest power we women can own, is that we take in secret." Hera is an appealingly involved narrator with a biting tongue ("Every little twerp is descended from Heracles these days"). She picks favorites, she complains, she nudges, she rails against her own reduced position among the gods. And she weaves a great yarn. More straightforward and more visceral than much of North's recent work, this is a ground-up view of Greek myth populated by spying maids, crafty merchants, and conniving queens. It's taut, suspenseful, and full of Hera's delightfully dyspeptic attitude. A thoroughly enjoyable exploration of Penelope's side of the ancient story. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.