In this episode of NPR's Book of the Day, authors Madeline Miller and Susanna Clarke discuss their approaches to retelling classical myths and historical narratives through a contemporary lens. Miller explores how modern retellings can restore agency and complexity to female figures traditionally depicted as obstacles in male-centered stories, while Clarke examines how fantasy fiction can revive the mythological practice of personifying nature and recognizing the natural world as a conscious force.
The conversation covers the creative freedom authors have when reimagining classical sources, the importance of blending historical accuracy with imaginative invention, and how theatrical and childlike perspectives inform their writing processes. Both authors reflect on how their work challenges conventional literary approaches by centering internal perspectives, moral complexity, and a sense of wonder that transforms how readers perceive both ancient stories and the world around them.

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Classical mythology traditionally casts women as obstacles in the male hero's journey, but modern retellings are reimagining these figures with agency and complexity.
Robin Young frames the women of the Odyssey according to tradition, humorously noting how Circe "turned his men into pigs" and the Sirens "tried to lure him to his death"—positioning powerful women as hurdles. Young notes that women's power is often depicted as trickery and danger. Madeline Miller observes that women and goddesses rarely receive power without punishment. Despite Homer's original depiction of Circe as an ally who guides Odysseus safely, traditional adaptations vilify her as a threatening sorceress.
Emily Wilson's 2017 translation of The Odyssey challenges this male-centric narrative with a feminist lens, insisting on the full complexity of female figures.
Modern authors like Miller offer new perspectives where mythological women are neither obstacles nor merely deceptive. In her novel Circe, Miller portrays the character as an ally with her own motivations and regrets. Similarly, Miller transforms Mestra's story—the daughter repeatedly sold by her father who uses shapeshifting to escape—by giving her an internal world. Miller describes the process of "giving her a name, give her her own story, see the story from the interior," restoring Mestra's voice and autonomy.
Agency also entails moral complexity. In Miller's retelling, Mestra must wrestle with the consequences of helping her father. Miller notes that "while she is acting out of love for her father, by continuing to feed his ravenous hunger, she is also allowing him to continue to try to take and take and take from the world." This confrontation with ethical dilemmas characterizes contemporary retellings, which portray female protagonists as complex agents capable of growth, doubt, and moral reckoning.
Miller emphasizes the freedom authors have when revisiting classical myths, stating that "you can do, quote, 'whatever you want.'" She explains that myths were already retold by ancient storytellers from many different angles, establishing variation as tradition. This allows writers to choose which elements to retain, transform, or invent anew.
Miller takes liberties with myths, blending original elements into the classical frame. In "Mestra," she invents a scene where the father begins to eat pieces of his daughter, allowing her to explore new emotional territory while honoring the myth's spirit. Similarly, Susanna Clarke builds an entire medieval backstory off a brief reference in her novel Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, grounding fantasy in documented history by featuring the real figure Ranulf Flambard just after the Norman Conquest.
Clarke's collaboration with illustrator Victoria Sauden enhances her story by evoking the style of the Bayeux Tapestry. Clarke had to ensure historical accuracy—reminding Sauden that Norman castles were originally built from wood rather than stone. Through these adaptive approaches, authors and artists bring timeless myths and history to renewed life for modern audiences.
Clarke observes that in classical Greek mythology, naiads and dryads personified nature's voice and will, recognizing nature as a force deserving attention. She notes that in contemporary literature, this tradition has faded, and without this sense of agency, modern humanity loses connection to the natural world, particularly when facing environmental crises.
Clarke highlights that fantasy fiction functions as an heir to mythology, reviving nature spirits and restoring agency to rivers, trees, and forests. She stresses the importance of this approach as the natural world faces intensifying storms and species extinction. Her own fiction, such as her story of sentient English trees that assemble to encircle a town, animates nature as a conscious actor.
Clarke agrees that approaching the world with a child's sense of wonder helps restore its vitality. She recounts the image of a misty autumn day with golden trees as a spiritual encounter—an opportunity to be moved by nature's presence. By retaining this childlike perspective, people remain open to the mysteries of the natural world and become better attuned to its importance.
Miller describes her writing process as rooted in her background as a theater director. She approaches writing like a method actor, visualizing her narrative as if on a stage and mentally inhabiting her characters' consciousness. Miller refers to herself as a "method writer," immersing herself in the emotional states of her characters to guide readers on a journey where they truly live inside the characters' perspectives.
Clarke reveals her struggle to write conventional fiction, admitting the attempt felt unsatisfying. When she gave up on trying to fit into literary conventions, she discovered her authentic voice and returned to writing fantasy. By embracing her imaginative tendencies, she prioritizes imaginative truth—the authenticity that comes from writing what stems naturally from her own vision.
Clarke discusses how she inhabits two worlds simultaneously: the tangible, everyday one and the fictional universe of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. This dual consciousness transforms mundane experiences—an ordinary train ride becomes a moment of profound connection when touched by the sight of glowing autumnal trees. For Clarke, no scenery is simply background; it is part of a magical, reverent world deserving of attention.
1-Page Summary
Classical mythology often depicts women as obstacles or antagonists in the male hero’s journey, while modern retellings increasingly reimagine these figures, granting them agency, complexity, and depth. Recent translations and literary adaptations challenge the traditional male-centric narrative, offering richer internal perspectives on female characters.
In ancient myth, women’s power is frequently portrayed as troublesome or deceitful, making them seem like threats to male heroes. Robin Young frames the women of the Odyssey according to this tradition, referencing Circe as the one who "turned his men into pigs" and the Sirens who "tried to lure him to his death,” humorously lamenting, “Poor Odysseus, so many women giving him problems.” This positions powerful women as hurdles for the male protagonist.
Young notes that within such myths, women’s power is often depicted as something tied to trickery and danger—“their power came because they were tricking men and they were luring them like sirens into rocks.” Madeline Miller observes that it is rare for women or goddesses to receive power that is not taken from them or for which they are not punished. In the Odyssey, Circe is cast as a groveling sorceress, her abilities vilified rather than celebrated. Young describes Circe in one adaptation as "a drab, mousy character" who violently transforms men into pigs, a far cry from the helpful deity Homer describes. In the original epic, Circe is actually one of Odysseus’s key allies, guiding him safely past the Sirens and sharing her wisdom—yet traditional depictions obscure this.
This male-centric narrative is directly challenged by Emily Wilson’s 2017 translation of The Odyssey, which is praised for its feminist lens. Both Wilson and Miller have publicly critiqued prior portrayals of Circe, including a film version that renders her as “a grandma witch in a Hansel and Gretel cottage.” Wilson’s translation elevates female figures by insisting on their full complexity and by interrogating the ways they are marginalized or vilified in earlier translations.
Modern authors like Madeline Miller offer new perspectives in which mythological women are neither obstacles nor merely deceptive. In her novel Circe, Miller crafts a portrayal of the titular character who aids Odysseus instead of hindering him—she becomes an ally and a nuanced figure with her own motivations and regrets.
Similarly, the story of Mestra is transformed in Miller’s retelling. Mestra, the daughter of King Erysichthon, is sold repeatedly by her father in exchange for food to satisfy his cursed hunger. Yet Mestra’s shapeshifting ability—rare among mortal women in myth—allows her to repeatedly escape her circumstances. Miller and Young discuss how Mestra’s transformations metaphorically evoke the longing for freedom experienced by those in abusive situations. Instead of merely being praised for cleverness, as in Ovid’s account, Mestra in Miller’s hands is given an internal world. She feels her body alter, escaping by becoming a man, cousin, or horse, imagining her way out of captivity. Miller describes the process of “giving her a name, give ...
Female Agency in Classical Mythology and Modern Retellings
Madeline Miller emphasizes the freedom authors have when revisiting classical myths, stating that the beauty of working with these ancient stories is that "you can do, quote, 'whatever you want.'" Miller explains that myths were already retold by ancient storytellers from many different angles and perspectives, establishing variation rather than rigid adherence as a tradition. She appreciates that the ancients continuously engaged in creative reinterpretation, offering their own takes and allowing for other interpretations to coexist.
Working with classical myths allows writers to choose which elements to retain, transform, or invent anew. For Miller's story "Mestra," she notes that the shape-shifting powers of the protagonist are an authentic part of the myth, drawn from Ovid's Metamorphoses. This ability to transform—into a man, a cousin, a cow, or a horse—serves as a rich metaphor for identity and escape, inviting readers to imagine themselves into other lives. Miller also highlights the vast, detailed world of Homer’s Odyssey, which presents so much vibrant detail that it offers countless entry points and interpretive possibilities for modern adaptations.
Madeline Miller takes liberties with the myths, blending original elements into the classical frame. In "Mestra", she invents a scene in which the father, under a curse, begins to eat pieces of his daughter. While this motif of familial violence is partly present in Ovid, the specific detail of the father's eating is Miller’s invention, allowing her to explore new emotional and narrative territory while still honoring the myth's spirit.
Similarly, Susanna Clarke’s illustrated short story builds off a single, brief reference in her novel Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell—a foundational legend of a fairy-ruled kingdom in the north of England. She crafts an entire medieval backstory, inventing a scenario where the Bishop of Durham, Ranulf Flambard, attempts both to surrender the city and to improve his own standing at the mysterious new fairy court. Clarke grounds this fantasy in documented history: Ranulf Flambard is a real figure listed on Wikipedia, and the setting is just after the Norman Conquest. By intertwining the historical and the fantastical, Clarke creates a respectful hybrid th ...
Adapting Myths and History Creatively
Susanna Clarke observes that, in classical Greek mythology, the natural world was alive with agency and presence. Naiads and dryads spoke for the trees and rivers, personifying nature’s voice and will. This vitalization recognized that nature was not just scenery, but a force to be reckoned with, deserving attention and respect. Clarke notes that in contemporary literature, this tradition has faded, and the voice of nature has largely been lost. Without this sense of agency, modern humanity loses an essential connection and understanding of the natural world, particularly when facing environmental crises and extinction events.
Clarke highlights that fantasy fiction functions as an heir to mythology, reviving the tradition of nature spirits. The descendants of naiads, dryads, and other spirits frequently appear in fantasy literature, restoring agency to rivers, trees, and forests as purposeful entities with their own narrative significance. She stresses the importance of this approach at a time when the natural world is imperiled—North America faces intense storms and hurricanes, and globally, species extinction is accelerating. Clarke’s own fiction, such as her story of sentient English trees that assemble to encircle a town in a moving wood, animates nature as a conscious actor. In doing so, her writing emphasizes the dignity and importance of the natural world and insists upon its consideration as a purposeful force in human affairs.
Nature as a Character With Agency in Mythology and Fantasy Fiction
Madeline Miller describes her writing process as deeply rooted in her background as a theater director. She approaches writing much like a method actor approaches a role: not only does she visualize her narrative as if it plays out on a stage, she also mentally inhabits the consciousness of her characters. Miller refers to herself as a "method writer," immersing herself in the emotional states and lives of her characters—even when scenes are painful or difficult. Her goal is to guide readers on a journey so they truly live inside the perspective of her characters. Miller is drawn to writers who possess a cinematic quality, creating stories that allow readers to experience narrative events as viscerally as the characters do, especially in moments of emotional pain. She believes that this method of visualizing scenes strikes a crucial balance between narrative action and emotional resonance.
Susanna Clarke reveals her struggle to write "grown-up" or conventional fiction, admitting that the attempt felt unsatisfying and unnatural. When she gave up on trying to fit into literary conventions, she discovered her authentic voice, allowing her to return to writing in the fantasy genre. Clarke explains that letting go of the pressure to produce prestigious literary fiction liberated her creativity, and fantasy began to flow naturally into her writing. By embracing her intrinsic imaginative tendencies, she prioritizes imaginative truth—the authenticity that comes from writing what stems most naturally from her own vision—over traditional literary prestige.
Addressing her daily life, Susanna ...
The Author's Creative Process: Theatrical Thinking and Childlike Wonder
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