OK, I'm not saying it was an easy road because it wasn't. I've felt like I should leave this book an incredible number of times, but — for some reason — again I haven't done it. Maybe my soul felt I needed it, perhaps that was the only way the ledges could weave this into my life, but either way, I still don't know how to feel. 

It was nothing special, simple Greek mythology, we all know the inevitable end, and we all know that nothing ever lasts forever. And now here I am, stupid and broken. Somehow, deep down, this broke me, not because I was particularly interested, but because it was about women who, despite trying to tear apart the men's world, stayed afloat and fought, each in their cunning way. My heart bleeds for them throughout history, throughout mythology, they deserved a thousand times better. 

Either way, it wasn't a fairy tale, it wasn't a retelling, it wasn't an apology, there were no miracles, no hopes, no vengeful gods.

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When I mention a strong female character, I mean someone like her. When I say I want to to be as persistent as they are, I mean her.

She wasn't a hero, maybe not even in her story, perhaps she wasn't the grace the world needed. But she was fire, wild and unforgiving, brilliant, certainly deadly to those who ventured too close to her. 

Clytamestra broke so many times, and so many times she fell into nothingness, but I still don't understand how she was able to go on, how she was able to live, truly and really. 

Either way, I required her more than ever, she opened my eyes, she simply tore open the fabrics that had held my universe together. She was so brave, she endured so long. Pity that no one ever remembers her. But I do, even if the songs sing lies, I believe — and I know — that she wasn't a monster.  I will keep her name alive, I will keep it alive even in the darkest times because she will shine for me, she will shine more than a thousand stars, and she will lead me out of the darkness. 

I will remember her.

Perhaps the anger I feel for him will never die out—I pray to the gods it doesn't—because I don't believe he's worth saving. 

Neither he nor his mythological self deserve it, not like this, not now. I've always wondered how far people like him can go when they feel something is breaking inside them. I wonder how much death it takes for them to feel again. And now I have an answer; never.

Tantalos, oh my dear Tantalos, had such a big heart and such beautiful dreams, he deserved a thousand times better. He was loyal and kind-hearted, sweet, a true noble king. 

Leda, my poor Leda, began as a warrior woman and ended her journey as a broken, lost soul, all alone. I don't mean that I wouldn't be angry with her - because deep down I am - but I certainly understand the chains and threads that have caught her, making her impossible for her to move. But afterall I am sure of one thing; she loved her children terribly, more than anything, and I know she tried to protect them with every breath she took.

Odysseus, the only mythological figure, the only person I can't decide if he was too smart or too dumb throughout the story. Obviously, he did things that were wonderful, but as many mistakes as he did, so many transgressions. In any case, I believe that his punishment was not in vain.

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The plot was relatively easy to follow and understand, especially since I was familiar with mythology and knew what was going to happen. Or so I guessed. 

Time jumps bothered me immensely and I had to deduct a little from my rating for them. 

The love story, especially at the end, was too far-fetched and weird for me, although that's obviously just my problem.