This New Novel Explores a Different Side of the Medusa Myth

For thousands of years, the Greek myth of Medusa has inspired countless retellings and works of art. Author Jessie Burton’s new novel, Medusa: The Girl Behind The Myth, is one retelling. However, Burton’s take is unique in that it explores Medusa as a teen girl who must reinvent herself to survive. Burton’s Medusa is “a girl on the edge” after enduring a sexual assault for which she is unjustly punished.

We had the chance to chat with Burton over email about the legend of Medusa, her new novel, and what it is like creating a feminist version of an ancient tale.

Can you tell us a little about your personal history with the Greek myth of Medusa? When did you first hear it, and what were your original impressions?

It was actually less through the written word and more through art. I only knew Medusa from the painting by Caravaggio, his infamous, almost circular self-portrait as Medusa. She is screaming, with mad open eyes. It’s nightmarish, horrific, and intense. I don’t remember when I first saw that, but whenever I thought of Medusa, I thought of that image by Caravaggio.

But when you look into the sources, there’s just so little about her, who she was, and why she was turned into a monster or gorgon. All we really know is that she’s a woman whose hair was turned into snakes, with a terrifying stare that turns men to stone. She has been surrounded by connotations of negativity. Or, in the most positive sense, a kind of feminine rage.

When did you begin thinking about reimagining Medusa’s story and examining her personal journey before she was cursed and beheaded?

I hadn’t really spent much time considering her life before. I didn’t know that she was a young woman particularly revered for her beauty, and for me, that was a moment of interest. It highlighted the diametric opposites of beauty and monstrosity in her story and the fact that she is punished for her beauty. I remember thinking that was such a great opportunity for a story because it’s a journey that someone has gone on, but we don’t really know anything about it. We stay with the bodiless, snake-haired visage instead of exploring the other side of the story. I really wanted to understand or interpret that for myself and for a modern audience.

Medusa is not only a powerful text, but it is also a beautiful work of art due to the illustrations by Olivia Lomenech Gill. Can you tell us a little about what that collaboration process was like?

I’m a huge fan of illustrations and illustrated work. I think that when there’s a text like Medusa that marries the right illustrator, it brings it alive. It was such a privilege as an author to have these full-color pictures from Olivia, and she seemed to be able to just take everything and run with it. Her paintings break beyond boundaries; they’re a bit wild and absolutely stunning.

Your version of Medusa’s story is ultimately a tale of survival and healing. What was it like turning the classic Medusa story on its head (pun absolutely intended)?

Medusa’s story was the most fluid book I’ve written. It was so easy to find her voice, and I wanted to swivel to her point of view because in traditional verse, she has often been a cypher for Perseus’ hero journey. That’s a problem with Western canonical literature. So often, the woman or feminine model is a static vessel for the male evolution, and that’s something I wanted to counter in this version. That, yes, Perseus plays a part, but it’s really about Medusa’s view of herself, which she gradually bolsters, to survive and move forward to enjoy her life.