Gods, Monsters, and the Timeless Allure of High-Wonder: Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief

Unfortunately, my goodreads account only documents what I was reading back to like 2011 so I don’t have a good record as to what I might have been reading back when this book came out in 2005. Why I might have missed it.

Although I would have been 14 that July. A whopping two years older than the protagonist, Percy Jackson, presumably the age of the book’s target audience. Perhaps I was already too cool.

Eighteen years later, with a highly anticipated adaptation on Disney+ screaming in for a landing on December 20th, I’m apparently no longer too cool. Also, I’m considering my Greek Mythology Era to be alive and well despite a short break.

It seems extra impressive to me that I was able to miss such a huge cultural phenomenon considering this series seems particularly centered around my interests. Somewhat similar to the book I reviewed last week, David Mogo Godhunter, Percy Jackson would nowadays probably be considered Godpunk, though I’m sure that term was not in circulation when it originally released.

Indeed if we consider the definition of Godpunk as a subgenre to be: A genre in which mythic gods directly interfere in modern human affairs, then Percy Jackson may actually fit this mold a little better than David Mogo.

These are the types of stories I LOVE! I mentioned in my review of Krapopolis Episode 1: “I’m pretty much a sucker for any kind of story in which us paltry mortals must square up and take our chances against cruel and uncaring gods.”

The Lightning Thief pretty much hits that right on the money (although without spoilers, we do kinda find out the gods are not as uncaring as we think. Even better!) I’m not sure why this type of story resonates with me so much (although I’m sure Joseph Campbell would have some thoughts as to why) but it really does.

Now, the godpunk definition above, emphasizes ‘modern’ affairs as opposed to say mythic or historical events (in David Mogo’s case an apocalyptic near-future). Here again, TLT strikes right on the money, with Percy’s adventures taking place in the 21st century. More like the opening stories in Fit For The Gods than say Song of Achilles, Circe, or Galatea.

But while many of the stories in FFTG did not hold the same sense of wonder that being transported to ancient Greece does for me, TLT seemed to retain the wonder of ancient times in droves despite its modern setting. I can attribute this to two tricks within the story. The first is a kind of ‘mist’ which affects normal people causing them to forget or ignore the magical world around them. This kind of ‘world within the world’ removes us from the mundane and peels back the curtain on a world of magic and heroes as opposed to just smelly streets and horrible step-dads.

It’s what allows us to fight monsters, of which there are A LOT. Minotaurs, chimeras, hellhounds and skeleton warriors (yes! bring on the skellies!). TFT uses a lot of familiar mythical creatures, but the sheer number of references an allusions meant that even with all the learning I’ve been doing in previous Greek Mythology outings, I still met a couple new faces, and saw a couple interesting interpretations of some old favorites.

The second trick which I felt helped keep TFT high-wonder as well as high-action, is a kind of magic camp in which heroes are able to train and test their powers. This camp is insane, with lava pits and sword fighting, and creepy things in the surrounding forest. I don’t think any normal parents would let their kids attend this camp, but I guess if your parents are gods, they are by definition not normal.

I liked that this was sort of a riff on the magic school trope we see in books like Harry Potter. It’s a magic school without being just another magic school.

Finally, I’ll harp on Percy’s ‘modernity a bit more. At this point, it’s fair to say the modernity of Percy’s New York — it seems N.K. Jemisin forgot to include MOUNT OLYMPUS as a borough of NY in The City We Became lol — is almost two decades old; however, I did not feel that the book had dated itself overmuch.

There are a few lines which were slightly cringe-worthy but I attributed this mostly to it’s being written for a younger audience more than the indelible passage of time. There were a couple things that stood out to me which I assume were potentially quite progressive back in 2005 which would today be considered bare minimum, but nothing jumped out as needing revision for a modern palate.

Give This One a Read?

If like me, you somehow managed to miss this one up until now, I would say it’s definitely worth your time to revisit. It’s written for a younger audience and somewhat dated now, but I thought that mostly it holds up, and that there is still plenty in here for adults to love (as well as younger readers).

In short, it’s a classic, high-wonder story about ancient Greek gods and monsters set in modern times deserving of the hype and acclaim it’s received thus far. If you’re a fan of Godpunk, or thinking you might be becoming a fan of Godpunk, I’d say this is a great next stop on your odyssey and a wonderful addition to our Greek Mythology Era.

That’s all I have for this week. Have many of you read this before? Am I the last person on earth to do so? What was your fav myth referenced in the story? Please leave your answers in the comments. Can’t wait to talk about this one!

David Mogo Godhunter: Nigerian God of War and So Much More

I like to bring a book with me on the metro if I know it’s going to be a long ride. The blessing of this habit is that I have something to do while I’m in transport (wow makes me sound like mail lol), but there are many cursed aspects of this habit as well.

Backtracking because of missed stops or transfers, being (even more) late to wherever I’m going, having to stop reading in the middle of a chapter etc. I don’t usually have a backpack and most books are just a tad big for my coat or jeans pockets. Whenever I finally do get to my destination, I end up just having to hold the book under my arm the whole time or set it down somewhere and pray I don’t forget it which is especially anxiety ridden if the book is from the library.

Holding David Mogo while attempting to be ‘out and about’, I quickly realized that its cover is striking enough that it draws a lot of attention and amongst my SF friends, Suyi Davies Okungbowa seems to be something of a household name although I was never sure what book everyone had read of his.

Inevitably, I ran up against the customary inquest of all book lovers when something they haven’t read is being flaunted so shamelessly in front of them: Is it any good?

My answer was always emphatically YES!, but with each inquiry I noticed my reasoning for this review changed as did how I ‘pitched’ the book to my friends. The back cover quotes Jacey Bedford saying its “A Nigerian Harry Dresden”.

I’ve never read any of the Dresden Files, but what I know of those books doesn’t really seem to match David Mogo, Nigerian or otherwise.

My initial comparisons likened it to an Adult (non-YA) version of Akata Witch, or perhaps Lagoon by Nnedi Okorafor, but this mostly had to do with its setting in a post-apocalyptic Lagos Nigeria, and some references to Yoruba language and Nsibidi script. The tone and characters are all wrong for an Akata book though and so I couldn’t quite justify this comparison.

Next I tried to just follow the narrative already being spun about the novel in places like WIRED and Book Riot, describing it at as more or less the definitive story on which to hang the moniker ‘Godpunk’, but this too felt inadequate.

Finally, (slight spoiler) I reached the point in the story during which the main character receives a machete attached to a chain along which he can shoot fire and I began to laugh as I realized:

Hah! David Mogo is Nigerian Kratos!

The last section of the book is even called Warmonger, in which David literally becomes the Orisha God of War!

Now, before anyone dismisses David Mogo Godhunter because it’s being compared to a video game — which in their infancy had left something to be desired in terms of storytelling — let me just reiterate that the most recent editions of God of War have been generally lauded for their storytelling and part of a select group of games which are being cited as work which raises the medium into the realm of art.

God of War is also perhaps my favorite series of all time, (and one I would die to see go to Africa, specifically Ancient Egypt) so any similarities that David Mogo has with that property just hit all my right buttons, and only raised the book in my esteem.

Also, before anyone dismisses David Mogo Godhunter as somehow derivative because of the comparisons I’ve made between it and God of War please stop. There is enough uniquely amazing goodness here that it can certainly stand on its own as a great story.

One aspect of David’s world (which I believe GoW could never pull off) is the diversity of culture and interaction, even in this post apocalyptic version of Lagos. The Bookwyrm’s Den points specifically to the interplay of languages (which I sorta hinted at before) as code-switching (please read their review). I whole-heartedly agree that parsing through all the slang, pidgin and colloquialisms was sometimes difficult, but (I felt) very rewarding.

I’d be remiss not to mention the Orisha pantheon, which was mostly new to me, so there was quite a bit of joy in learning about them and their powers, history, and importance.

Bookwrym’s Den also points out David’s narrative of self discovery, and how we don’t often see this kind of narrative attached to (middle?) adults. They put David at around 30, which I’m also around (33!) so . . . I felt this arc deeply.

Finally, I think a large part of the draw for this story is just David himself. All protagonists make mistakes, they all experience regret and loss; its a critical part of storytelling. David is also angry, sulking, and petty. He jumps to conclusions too quickly and when he messes up he sometimes blames other people instead of himself. He’s a very real person. And despite all of that, by the end of the story, still manages to achieve something great.

We should all be so lucky.

Give this one a Read?

Definitely. At the very least, David Mogo is an action packed story with great fights, awe inspiring gods and goddesses, and an all too human protagonist. Let this one simmer a little longer and you’ll find it’s also rich in its worldbuilding and its diversity of human experience.

That’s all I have this week. Has anyone read this one before? What are your thoughts? Familiar with Orisha myth? Nsibidi script? What was your fav element within the story? Looking forward to talking about this one.

Until next time . . .

Discovering New York’s Soul in N.K. Jemisin’s ‘The City We Became’

I hesitate to call 2023 my year of urban fantasy, but looking back over this year’s reviews I’m noticing that at least 4 of the 22 (so far) books I’ve read this year, have some kind of city at their heart.

We’ve spent time in medieval Constantinople (Assassin’s Creed The Golden City), flown down the streets of the fantastical Elendel (Mistborn: Shadows of the Self), and heard the symphony that is New Orleans in The Ballad of Perilous Graves.

But perhaps the most striking — and bizarre (in a good way) — depiction of a city so far, is the vitality of N.K. Jemisin’s New York in The City We Became.

I’ve been anxious to read this book for quite some time. During the 2021 Hugo season, the hype for this title was strong indeed with many wondering if Jemisin could pull off a fourth win after taking home the rocket in 2016, 2017, and 2018 for her Broken Earth trilogy. Ultimately, Martha Well‘s Network Effect won out, and while perhaps not my pick (I probably would have gone with Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse) it seems that every book on the ballot that year was powerhouse. City We Became was no exception.

With all of that hype, I’m not quite sure how I managed to sleep on this one until nearly the end of 2023. However, after reading the precursor to this story, A City Born Great, in How Long ‘Til Black Future Month, when my book club (a 2nd club, not the one which read HLTBFM) proposed it, it seemed like destiny.

So How Was it Already?

In two words: really good.

Despite all the urban fantasy I just cited above, I can honestly say that I’ve never read a book quite like this. Even with plenty of foreknowledge of the premise, and reading A City Born Great beforehand, I was still completely astounded by how Jemisin was able anthropomorphize an entire city.

I’ve only been to New York a handful of times, the memorable visits being right after the trade centers came down, another time when I was pretty young to visit the Jazz Museum in Harlem, and once after college to get brunch at the Blue Note, and take a tour of the ancient Egypt exhibit at the Met.

Oh and I stayed with a friend once on Roosevelt Island and complained when we couldn’t find any decent Mexican food. I think we also visited Carnegie hall and cracked jokes that Donald Trump must be quite an important person since he had a Starbucks on the first floor of Trump tower, completely ignoring the fact his name was on the side of a skyscraper (this was pre presidency so I hadn’t grown to hate him yet).

I just googled all of those places just to see. They’re all in Manhattan.

I guess I have some exploring to do next time I’m in NYC.

But I digress . . .

I bring this up because in my handful of visits to the Big Apple, I’ve only managed to play tourist in one borough. Jemisin takes on five.

I would love to get a New Yorker’s point of view, but in my limited opinion she not only managed the task, but even excelled at giving each borough a unique voice and character. I maybe wish we had heard more from Queens, not because I have any particular attachment to that borough — so far as I know I’ve never been — but because I just enjoyed her character and wanted to see more.

But regardless of the exact mix of ingredients, the resulting treat was not only a fun and engaging story, but one which I felt gave New York a little more depth in my mind. More than just a dot on a map, or a place I’d been a few times but a city which lives and breathes. Since this is literally what it became in her book I’d say job well done.

As much as The City We Became is a love letter to New York, it also reads as a kind of clap-back at some of the more negative (ahem racist) aspects of Speculative Fiction’s history, particularly H.P. Lovecraft’s The Horror of Red Hook.

We’ve seen something similar in Jemisin’s short story Walking Awake (also in HLTBFM) where she takes shots at Robert Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters, and it is quickly becoming one of my favorite aspects of her writing. An element that not only shines a light on the past but also holds a mirror up to today.

I haven’t read much Lovecraft, and had never heard of this Red Hook story before reading The City We Became, so I’m not sure how much The Enemy draws from Cthulu mythos alone, but I could also see a lot of Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters in the way some of the folks were being controlled. A very cool nuance.

Give This One a Read?

Absolutely! If all the awards nominations were somehow not enough, I guess let my recommendation decide it for you?

This book is a fun read which has the dual purpose of showing Jemisin’s love for NYC while also shining a light on some of the darker places in the genre’s history.

I’m sure there’s a lot more to unpack here so please let me know your thoughts on this one in the comments!

See you next time!

King Tutankhamun, The Curse of The Pharaohs, and Gregory Levasseur’s The Pyramid

On this day, November 4th, just over 100 years ago, the first step of the entrance staircase to King Tutankhamun’s tomb was discovered while workmen were digging beneath the remains of some ancient huts.

If you’re asking “So what?” well it’s only that this discovery, and the opening of the tomb’s burial chamber several months later on February 16th 1923, is still highly regarded as one of the greatest archaeological discoveries ever made.

Some 5,000 items were found in the chamber, the likes of which — a solid gold coffin, a 9×2 foot shrine to the ancient Egyptian god Anubis, and the pharaoh’s death mask (the iconic emblem of Ancient Egypt) — the world had never seen.

I’m not sure that I’ll be commemorating the event every year on this blog, like I’ve done with #DinosaurDay, and #NationalVelociraptorDay, but I’ve long wanted to at least post something which would draw attention to it considering it is certainly an amazing event for any interested in Ancient Egypt.

However, I don’t work in any kind of Egyptology related field, so what could I possibly post that would not just be a copy of what others have already figured out? What might possibly add something to the conversation?

Well, I can I do what I always do, which is review a piece of media tangentially related to the the subject.

In this case, that media would be the 2014 horror film, The Pyramid directed by Gregory Levasseur. At the time of this writing it’s streaming on . . . well everywhere, but I watched it on HBO Max.

The connection between King Tut’s Tomb and The Pyramid has more to with the legacy of events surrounding the tomb than any actual references within the film, namely curses.

The Curse of the Pharaohs is a long running trope in fiction owing much of its continued existence to continual film readaptations of The Mummy (original in 1932, adaptations in 1959, 1999, and 2017).

Some Ancient Egyptian tombs really do have curses inscribed on their facades or above their thresholds such as 6th Dynasty king Khentika Ikhekhi at Saqqara.

Ironically, no curses were found inside King Tut’s tomb but a series of deaths, and the general frenzy of excitement about the tomb’s discovery were enough to stoke the belief that the tomb was cursed anyway.

The first death was George Herbert, the Earl of Carnarvon. He was the financial backer of the excavation and perhaps the death which people most attribute to the curse. He died on April 5th 1923 of an infected mosquito bite. It would seem that the sin he committed which brought down Pharaoh’s wrath, was simply being present at the opening of the tomb.

A.C. Mace was a member of the excavation team, died April 1923. George Jay Gould, visited the tomb and died May 16th 1923. Carter’s secretary, Richard Bethell, died November 15th 1929; suspected smothering.

Howard Carter, credited with the tomb’s discovery and excavation also died . . . Sixteen years later on March 2nd 1939, but obviously Pharaoh’s wrath got him too.

Ok We Got It. How Was The Pyramid?

In a few words . . . Not great.

I’m sort of a casual observer of horror movies in general, so I can’t say I have a wealth of expertise to draw from but I think perhaps it is passable when looked at solely through that lens.

However, there were so many things that were not made clear to the viewer, or very noticeably hand-waved over that it was hard to feel any real tension or foreboding. There are some pretty gruesome deaths, and jump scares aplenty, but I would say we were halfway through the film before we even knew what we were supposed to be afraid of, and when the villain is finally revealed in the flesh, the FX budget unfortunately took a bit of the fright out of it.

If you came to the movie hoping to be awed by the mystery inherent in uncovering an ancient culture, you’ll be pretty disappointed. The movie does incorporate some of the sign posts of the aforementioned “Curse of the Pharaohs” type plot, but in my opinion does not execute well in that area.

For instance, in one of the early scenes, we find a classic warning: aka a vague message written in hieroglyphics above the entrance to a tomb. Unfortunately, the message is extremely vague, really only three words, and we never get a clear shot at of the glyphs. I have some limited recognition of hieroglyphics, and being still a novice, it’s possible that the symbols meant what the characters said they did, but there’s almost no way to know. We can never see the symbols clearly (this happens continuously throughout the film).

However, I don’t think that is the real issue when it comes to Curse of the Pharaoh. I’ve always felt that a good warning/curse is instructive of what not to do. Why we’re ok with all these characters dying is because they ignore that advice and get what’s coming to them. The three words here are just words like “death”, and “slaughter”. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m not even sure if they say don’t come in.

Then there are the references to Ancient Egyptian cosmology, and some backstory about their gods and goddesses, which are given in such broad strokes that it may not be ‘wrong’, but it also doesn’t feel ‘right’. I do feel like I can stand strongly on some inconsistency in their depiction of the Weighing of the Heart which they use to justify some things later in the film which will be a bit spoiler-y if I go into them.

Anyway, some wall paintings show that famous scene as an excuse to dump backstory. The relief includes what I would consider the accepted role of Ammit, the devourer of souls that fail judgement, but towards the climax of the film, some of those responsibilities get shifted onto other deities. Which is a shame because this is a horror film, and as we know from watching Moon Knight on Disney+, Ammit is plenty terrifying.

Finally, were this movie really loses me is with its fast and loose allusions to conspiracy and other mythologies. There are references to ancient aliens, Aztec mythology (because they also have pyramids I guess), and the Free Masons. I was half expecting a Nazi to appear at any moment, but if those shots were filmed, somebody had the sense to reign it in slightly.

Now in a work of fiction, I’m not opposed some or even all of the plot having to do with one of those conspiracies or mythologies, but to just keep piling them in without really tying them to the plot in any significant way got my eyes rolling.

Give This One a Watch?

Ultimately, I’d it’s one you can miss. If you’re the type of person who enjoys watching bad movies for fun, maybe this will be up your alley? I do understand that kind of appeal (I did after all watch and enjoy Velocipastor), but I’m not even sure this movie succeeds at being that type of movie either.

If you’re hoping to watch something Ancient Egyptian inspired as a way to commemorate the discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb a little over a hundred years ago . . . well let’s say this one might incur the wrath of Tut himself, Howard Carter, and any other Egyptologist who happens to open this onto the screen.

You’ve read the warning on the wall . . . do not watch.

For any who ignored the warnings and are risking the curse, what did y’all think? Let me know in the comments. Am I way off base here?

That’s all for now. See you next time!