It is their refusal to see any divine beings as perfect, whole and complete of themselves, whether Zeus, Moros or Prometheus, that makes the Greeks so satisfying.

Like most people, I’ve always been fascinated with mythology—and Greek mythology was one of my first forays into it (but certainly not the last). Having studied classics, I was well-versed with a lot of the Greek myths but not all of them, so I went into this book with a fairly open mind. Despite knowing some (and perhaps most) of the stories, it was still rather fun and entertaining to see Fry recount them. He does have a particularly conversational and jovial style of storytelling that made me laugh or smile at the gods’ actions on the page. I also got a chance to collect some finer details in the mythology that I previously hadn’t dived into. Fry also provided generous (but not overdone) footnotes on relevant context, background information, or ideas for further ruminating. To be honest, I could have done with more of his footnotes and random tangents, but the current amount is probably best for a work like this. Whether you are completely new to Greek myths or a seasoned expert, this book will certainly have something for you—even if it’s a random etymological tidbit. I also read it gradually, over the course of a week or two, and that helped to digest it a few ‘stories’ at a time.Fry’s attempt here is to create a somewhat chronological account—starting from Chaos and through the different ages; this book covers only the time period prior to the heroic age, so not quite demigods yet, but focusing mostly on divinities and divinely-entangled mortals. As the quote above illustrates, the most enjoyable aspect of the Greek gods is just how flawed and ‘human’ they are—they make mistakes, hold petty grudges, and aren’t shielded from the consequences of their actions. Even on Olympus, there is a hierarchy and a system for how things work. Every god has their own domain and abilities, and these may not blatantly conflict with another god’s will. (Though, as with anything, of course there are exceptions.)One of the most fascinating things about myths to me, from an anthropological standpoint, is what it reveals about the mindset of the people telling them. A lot of these myths are aetiological, explaining how some aspect of the world as we know it came to be—why bees die after using their sting, or why spiders weave, or why a flower is that particular shade. And you know what? A lot of these concerns relate to an awe and almost irreverent fear of nature, yes, which is perhaps less relevant in this current age than it ever has been (in spite of climate change). But they also reveal the clever ways that mortals and gods alike deal with extraordinary and ordinary problems; tricks and guile occasionally, but also just earning their daily bread and moving forward with what they can do. Fry’s take on Prometheus and Sisyphus, for instance, can be quite a pro-humanity reading.This is a great book, though at times overly simplified; and sometimes Fry updates or refreshes myth to suit his own interpretation, which at times was contrary to my own expectation. Yet, in doing so, he is hardly any different than most mythographers who came before him. I at least appreciated that his tellings of myths aren’t the incredibly bowdlerized versions we’ve received from the early twentieth century and prior. It was my first book written by Fry, and I’m quite happy to go on with reading the rest in this series. It’s nice to have an easy escapism into ancient Greece once in a while.