Let’s be honest. Most people, or at least most high school students, have no idea who Clytemnestra is. When a student thinks of mythological Greek women, she isn’t at the forefront of their minds. Perhaps they think of Clytemnestra’s sister, Helen of Troy, the one with the “face that launched a thousand ships”; or her cousin, Penelope of Ithaca, the faithful wife of Odysseus. To me, though, while not as famous as her relatives, Clytemnestra is one of the most complex and intriguing characters of the Greek myths.
She’s mostly known for being Agamemnon’s wife.
More specifically, for murdering him.
Classic historians stop at this point, classifying her as the most evil form a woman can take: an unfaithful, ungrateful wife (the horror!), and the exact opposite of her cousin Penelope, who was THE Devoted Wife. Yet contemporary authors like Constanza Casati are looking beyond this surface-level definition of Clytemnestra to ask, who is she, really? What actually motivated her to kill her husband?
Casati attempts to answer these questions and present her answers to a young adult audience in her 2023 novel “Clytemnestra,” detailing her life from adolescence to the aftermath of Agamemnon’s murder. She did a remarkable job. I would recommend it to those who like retellings, complex characters, and intrigue. It can be purchased on Amazon, at Barnes & Noble, or at local bookstores, such as The Book Stall in Winnetka, Illinois.
Ancient Greece, where the novel takes place, was an overwhelmingly patriarchal society. Clytemnestra was lucky enough to be born in Sparta, where she was allowed to go out in public, learn how to fight, and was generally treated with respect (I know, I know—how extraordinary). She was a princess of Sparta and later became queen of the distant city-state Maeonia when she married Tantalus, a city-state king rendered insignificant over the centuries (his lasting achievement, ironically similar to Greek women marrying a king, was that he was the spouse of Clytemnestra).
Agamemnon, in his kingly glory, decided to kill Tantalus and Clytemnestra’s unnamed son so that HE could marry Clytemnestra.
What I found really interesting about Tantalus’s murder was that, unlike the rest of the book, it was not written from Clytemnestra’s point of view. Instead of from her view, it is told through Tantalus’s view, along with her sisters’ perspectives, allowing for readers to see just how intricate the assassination plot was.
This point-of-view shift works well during the assassination, but most of the time, the book is written from Clytemnestra’s point of view—a wise move from Casati. This allows readers to view the progression of her emotions regarding Agamemnon, from apprehension, to dislike, to hatred, to any worse emotion one can think of. When someone she loves is sacrificed by Agamemnon before the Trojan war, for example, her feelings of hatred and vengeance are exacerbated. Beyond that, Casati adds the excruciating detail that she feels guilty for letting them die, which drives Clytemnestra to kill her husband in the future.
During Agamemnon’s 10-year absence while fighting in the Trojan War, Clytemnestra becomes “king” of Mycenae, instead of the king’s wife. During this part of the story, Casati’s writing truly shines. The pitfalls of Greek myths and classic retellings are that they don’t really detail the politics and intrigue that leaders go through, instead focusing on the famous battles.
“Clytemnestra” doesn’t deal with Agamemnon’s war. It deals with Clytemnestra ruling a flourishing Mycenae, circumventing Agamemnon’s sexist advisors who believe they should rule instead of her, and raising her remaining children to be leaders. Casati’s writing shows a new side of Greek myths: bringing to light the subtlety of politics and family life, which is often ignored in the ancient epics studied in English classes.
And, of course, the ending, in which Clytemnestra commits murder was my favorite part of the book. Not because she murdered someone (I do not find pleasure in murder), but because it was incredibly satisfying to see Clytemnestra gain the revenge she needed for the loved ones that she has lost. What the entire book has been building up to ends in what feels like a transcendent, multiple point-of-view (the one other time Casati employs this tactic) fever dream, a stark contrast to the rest of the book.
Yes, there were some weaker points. A Greek mythology retelling written in the present tense? It was incredibly jarring, as I usually read books in the past tense. I did not like that at all. The first couple of chapters? I was—pick your poison—bored, confused, and tired (maybe I didn’t like the beginning because I did start reading it late at night…or very early in the morning, but I digress).
But overall, this book was amazing. As someone who enjoys reading but struggles with finding a good book and, when I do find that book, finding the time to read it, it’s safe to say that “Clytemnestra” took over my life.
In the back cover summary, the main quote reads, “As for queens, they are either hated or forgotten. She already knows which option suits her best…” But in this stellar book, Clytemnestra is neither: she is, for the first time, understood.