Thango Ntwasa reviews ‘Clytemnestra’ by Costanza Casati

Clytemnestra

Costanza Casati, Penguin

3 stars

Wiki, Facebook, X and even subreddits have become the space in which history is told and retold by piecing together facts and/or conspiracies. But this was not always so. History, myths and stories were conveyed through books, art and song, which was the case with Ancient Greek tales, which relied on whoever had their head in the clouds of Mount Olympus or dipped into the depths of Poseidon's seas.

Whether true or not, the events of Ancient Greece are still of interest — the likelihood of a wooden horse full of soldiers crippling an empire is fascinating even now. In Clytemnestra, Costanza Casati sparks this tale back to life. The novel follows the eponymous character who was famous for slaying the king of Mycanae, Agamemnon. While her sister, Helen of Troy, might be more famous, the book attempts to give us a window into Clytemnestra's experiences as “mother, monarch and murderer”, among many other things.

Casati's ability to add context and detail to historical experiences is enthralling, specifically the complexity of race and sexuality. The content is appealing for its jaw-dropping plot twists. Clytemnestra delivers all this and more in droves. Most credit for the suspense goes to the story's antagonist, Agamemnon, the most skullduggerous of them all. In Casati's retelling, the king is a calculating adversary who overpowers anyone who crosses him. Casati brings this to life by including Agamemnon's months-long manipulation of Helen to get her to kill Clytemnestra's husband and firstborn child. Then he makes Clytemnestra his wife.

The depiction of Helen is a breath of fresh air. While the most beautiful woman of Sparta might have been regarded as lacking agency, she doesn't give up without a fight. Helen is on the fringes of society and, as a woman, constantly struggles with being dismissed as childish or accused of acting out of pettiness or on a whim. However, Clytemnestra, does not come across as well as she should. Casati's character is somewhat one-dimensional, depicted as a cold, assertive woman who is a Mary Sue trope rather than a formidable Mycenaean queen. This makes it hard to relate to or sympathise with what happens to her throughout the book's 465 pages.

The author does well in painting an immersive picture of the world about her — the pits into which babies were thrown in Sparta and the manner in which people danced and engaged in combat. Clytemnestra is our eyes and ears for much of the book, which is often a letdown, especially when Casati builds her ferocity and analytical abilities as lethal qualities, only for them fail her again and again. Physical strength defines her, but she is only able to beat those who are vulnerable or frailer than her. The murder of Agamemnon is planned over 20 years and Casati is unable to use this as a heightened plot point with a satisfying result.

Clytemnestra's intellect is never brought to the fore, even when she ascends the throne. She makes illogical decisions that endanger the lives of those close to her. While you can understand her attraction to Agamemnon's cousin, Aegisthus, this relationship is clearly her descent, which would have been thrilling to read about considering they are both murdered by her children. Part of the story's charm is in it painting a picture of what it was like to be ruled by imaginary gods. 

While the main character is not as enthralling as she could be, Clytemnestra does make one consider how we tell the stories of women. How do we idolise them and how do we remember them? 

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