Witch, vindictive wife, child-murderer: Medea's reputation throughout the ages has been a nasty one, but she has always fascinated. The brave and controversial writer Christa Wolf abandons the more usual, cautious approach to writing fiction based on myths, instead coming from the perspective of what else might have happened to make people create such a story.
In other words, a cover-up. Wolf's Medea never committed any of the crimes she has been charged with; she is, however, a very convenient scapegoat when things start to go wrong and she becomes too inquisitive about what lies beneath the surface of Corinthian society. Married to Jason, a man from a culture already substantially different from her own, she has fled her home island of Colchis, only to find that the royal house of Corinth hides a secret as horrifying as that of Colchis. In addition to knowing too much, she is foreign to the point of alienness, accompanied by her band of fellow Colchian refugees, and, as a well-respected healer and once powerful princess, a dangerous role-model in a society that prefers its women not to look up or speak. Her explosion into the delicate, corrupt world of Corinth can only lead to frightening results.
Wolf lifts the Medea myth far beyond the story of sexual jealousy and women's rights you will find in Euripides and other sources - with all due respect to Euripides and co., for in fact Wolf has considered them carefully and uses several quotations, from ancient writers to anthropologists, in her multi-faceted approach.
It is a fable about power and the workings of power, political scapegoating, cultural relativism (the passage where a scandalised Jason describes Colchian burial customs is particularly thought-provoking), and even its historical references to a time when the old matriarchal religions were being ousted by male rulers do not stop it resonating throughout the ages. East Germany and the Holocaust come to mind in particular, but it is reminsicent of any country that has not been entirely welcoming towards its immigrants, or has bloody clawing for political power carefully buried behind the scenes, or has tried to quieten its protesting poor and women.
It is also about love, trust and betrayal, not only between men and women but also between women and women; about grief and the terrible need to blame someone when things start to go off the rails. Wolf writes with extraordinary compassion and courage, and although the stream of consciousness style (the story is told by several "voices", ranging from Medea and Jason to Medea's ex-pupil, the court astronomers, and even the Corinthian princess intended as Jason's bride) takes a little work, it is absolutely worth it. Her prose has a wonderful steely strength and light to it; her characters are engrossing in all their shades of humanity and cruelty; her background of ancient Greece is at once glittering in its remoteness and starkly familiar.
Margaret Atwood's Introduction is well worthy of the novel it precedes, discussing the literary background as well as the historical and social themes with her usual wit and thoughtfulness. To quote the end of her introduction,
"'Medea' is no two-dimensional allegory. Like a tunnel full of mirrors, it both reflects and echoes. The question it asks the reader, through many voices and in many different ways, is: What would you be willing to believe, to accept, to conceal, to do, to save your own skin, or simply to stay close to power? Who would you be willing to sacrifice? Hard questions, but the posing of them is the troubling yet essential task of this tough, ingenious, brilliant and necessary book."