You’ve probably heard the story of Ariadne and the Minotaur. You know the drill: brave hero Theseus, creepy labyrinth, ball of string, monster slain. But here’s what your high school mythology class didn’t tell you—the real monster might’ve been walking out of that maze wearing a hero’s crown.
Let me paint you a different picture. Imagine being the clever princess who hands the “hero” his survival kit, only to get ditched on a deserted island while he sails home to… marry your little sister. Now imagine that for 3,000 years, everyone keeps calling him the legend while your story gets reduced to a footnote. That’s Ariadne’s reality—until now.
The Original Mean Girls (Ancient Greek Edition)
Ariadne and Phaedra weren’t just sisters—they were collateral damage in Theseus’s hero complex. Think about it:
- Ariadne: Tech support for labyrinth navigation ➔ Island abandonment
- Phaedra: Trophy wife upgrade ➔ Tragic suicide
It’s like the world’s worst dating app horror story, except the “unmatch” button is a sword and the ghosting happens on a mythological scale.
Enter Jennifer Saint’s Ariadne—the literary equivalent of someone finally turning on the lights at Theseus’s hero-worship party. Her novel doesn’t just give the sisters a voice; it hands them a megaphone and a legal team. But fair warning: this isn’t a girlboss redemption arc. As Saint brutally reminds us, being a mortal woman in Greek myths is like being a porcelain vase at a godly frat party—you’re either decorative or doomed.
Why Your Favorite Movies Already Know This Story
Remember Elliot Page’s Ariadne in Inception? The architect who literally builds mazes in people’s minds? That’s not a coincidence. Christopher Nolan (who’s reportedly working on a Odyssey adaptation) understood something myth-tellers often forget: the real power lies not in slaying monsters, but in designing the game.
Modern Ariadnes are everywhere once you start looking:
- The sister who organizes family holidays (while her Theseus brother “heroically” forgets the sunscreen)
- The colleague who troubleshoots the presentation (while the Theseus in the next cubicle takes credit)
The labyrinth isn’t just stone walls—it’s societal expectations, and the thread isn’t string; it’s the emotional labor women have been providing since… well, since Crete.
The Bitter Wine of “Happily Ever After”
Here’s where Saint’s story gets really spicy. When Dionysus (god of wine and bad decisions) marries abandoned Ariadne, it’s framed as a “happy ending.” But let’s read between the grapevines:
- Option 1: Die alone on an island
- Option 2: Marry an immortal party boy
This isn’t empowerment—it’s survival mode. As one character bitterly notes in the novel, “Gods don’t love mortals. They’re like children pulling wings off flies.”
Why We Can’t Stop Retelling This Story
Greek myths are back in style, but this time we’re reading them like breakup texts—analyzing every “heroic” action for red flags. The recent surge isn’t just nostalgia; it’s cultural therapy. Every time we retell Ariadne’s story, we’re asking:
- Who gets called a “monster”?
- What counts as “bravery”?
- When does loyalty become exploitation?
The answers might make Theseus’s sword arm look pretty shaky.
So next time someone calls Theseus a hero, maybe ask: “Which version?” Because as Ariadne could tell you (if anyone bothered to ask), the difference between a legend and a warning depends entirely on who’s holding the pen.
