By John Gardner
A mythological masterpiece approximately commitment and the disintegration of romantic affection during this great epic poem, John Gardner renders his interpretation of the traditional tale of Jason and Medeia. limited within the palace of King Creon, and longing to come to his rightful state Iolcus, Jason asks his spouse, the sorceress Medeia, to take advantage of her powers of appeal to break the tryrant King Pelias. Out of affection she acquiesces, in basic terms to discover that upon her go back Jason has changed her with King Creon's appealing daughter, Glauce. An historical fantasy fraught with devotion and betrayal, deception and ambition, Jason and Medeia is without doubt one of the maximum classical legends, and Gardner's masterful retelling is yet one more success for this hugely acclaimed writer.
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Additional resources for Jason and Medeia
Usually I would brush the question off and retreat to my room, but once I made the mistake of answering. “I’m not as pretty as Jenna,” I said, as though it needed saying. ” She put a hand on my arm. ” There was: Michael, a popular boy with creamy skin, roses in his cheeks, and dark brown eyes, a basketball player. I’d liked him since fourth grade. Unlike the other popular boys, he wasn’t unkind to girls like me. Once in junior high when the bell rang, I left my pencil case on my desk, and he ran after me, shouting my name.
Maddy called me on the intercom, and I got a little lost and…” My voice trailed off. ” Lucia asked, hands on her hips. ” “It was pretty loud. ” “Must have been Brenda,” Lucia said briskly. ” A few times since my arrival at Thornfield Park I had passed a broad-shouldered, mannish woman, older than the rest of the housekeeping staff. That must have been Brenda. But hadn’t I been told the third floor was unsafe and off-limits? Anticipating my question, Lucia said, “I know, I said it wasn’t safe up there.
Then, hurrying home, I’d catch my reflection in a shopwindow and be brought abruptly back to reality. The train chugged to a start, daylight mercifully erasing my image. The morning had turned out crisp and nearly cloudless, a good day for a fresh start. I tried to settle back in my seat, to relax and collect myself. Calm, cool, capable, I silently repeated to myself. That’s what I’m going to be. Calm, cool, capable. The ride passed too quickly. Before I felt remotely ready, the train was pulling into Old Saybrook station.