4.25
A story about marriage, infidelity, motherhood, identity, abuse and forgiveness written in a beautiful way. The author encapsulated the feelings of things really well.
The ambiguous ending did bring the rating down for me though. ( )

In her debut novel(la) The End We Start From, Megan Hunter imagines a post-apocalyptic scenario where waters are inexplicably rising, laying waste to towns and cities. Many critics read in it a timely warning about climate change. However, there was also a sub-text to the novella which one could easily overlook – I interpreted The End We Start From as a celebration of motherhood and the sense of hope that a new birth brings with it.

The theme of motherhood also looms large in Megan Hunter’s second novella The Harpy, but here it is conveyed in much darker and more pessimistic hues. Indeed, The Harpy is an indictment of a patriarchal society that first expects women to be faithful wives, perfect mothers and dutiful homemakers and then sidelines them precisely for having fulfilled these expectations. In the novella, this critique of patriarchy is eventually extended to comprise the theme of domestic violence and the way that “forgiveness” is expected of (female) victims as a means to maintain the status quo. This widening of the theme leads to some loss of focus, but the work’s message remains a powerful one.

If, in her first novella, Hunter gave her personal twist to the post-apocalyptic genre, here she ventures into “domestic thriller” territory, albeit laced with mythical elements and more than a twist of horror.

Since her childhood, Lucy, the novella's protagonist is fascinated by harpies – legendary creatures of vengeance, birds with a female face and torso, “their eyes pale slits, their hair thick black lines, flying in shapes behind their heads”. At University, Lucy opts for Classics and chooses harpies as an object of research. Years later, now settled down with her husband Jake and tethered to a daily routine of caring for their two young boys, the harpies seem like a long-forgotten obsession. Until, that is, Lucy learns that Jake has been sleeping with a work colleague, Vanessa. Older, sophisticated and unblemished by child-bearing or rearing, Vanessa seems everything that Lucy is not. Jake admits to his infidelity and agrees to submit himself to an exemplary punishment. Thus begins Lucy’s change into the mythical harpy.

The Harpy manages to be at the same time a hyper-realist portrayal of the frustrations within a contemporary family and a mythical tale ripe with symbolism, told throughout in Hunter’s trademark poetic prose. The final pages are particularly haunting as the distinction between fantasy and reality becomes increasingly blurred. Some passages are not for the faint-hearted – but, given the subject-matter, some disturbing images are hardly out of place.

This is another strong showing from Megan Hunter. Clearly, the success of her debut was no fluke!

(An illustrated review can be found at: https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-harpy-by-megan-hunter.html ) ( )

Wow. Just... wow. I was immediately pulled into this story. I wasn't sure where the author was taking me but I was happy to go along.

This is a fairly short book but it packed a big punch for me. I did feel like it dragged a bit in the middle but I listened to the final chapter twice because I wasn't quite ready to be finished.

Very satisfying. I nearly forgot to mention how much I enjoyed the author's writing style and language choices. And the narrator was fab! I can definitely see myself reading The Harpy again.

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the audiobook! ( )

The harpy has never had children, it seems. Has never bought or rented a house, chosen cushion covers or selected a carpet from a choice of thousands.

She can sleep on the wing, her own body her refuge, her nails curled, ready to strike.

What a powerful, visceral read. I had high expectations based on the description, and my, did the book deliver!

Using the mythological image of the harpy, the author thoroughly explores the themes of marriage, motherhood, and individuality. The first-person narrator is Lucy, a mother-of-two in her thirties who receives a life-changing phone call that informs her that her husband had an affair with an older colleague. To the tune of the oven heating up to swallow up the chicken she had planned for dinner, her sons munching on after-school sandwiches, the television they’re glued to, something clicks in an otherwise unremarkable woman. A creature she has known and identified with all her life, a fascination that lay dormant slowly starts to awaken, a stir of wings, a click of talons: the harpy opens its eyes.

The language mastery displayed by Hunter frequently had me flipping back to reabsorb her words over and over again. She has a keen eye for detail and nuance, as well as a knack for bringing out the extraordinary in the mundane. Adultery is by no means an underexplored topic in literature, and neither is mythology, and neither is revenge, but the way this story is told is spellbinding because of the intensity of the language. The sentences somehow manage to engage all senses in a delicious synesthetic recipe that left me both deeply satisfied and hungry for more at the same time. I almost never say this, but I’d love to return to this book to scoop out even more sensations and food for thought.

Another strength of the writing is the balance between revealing only what is necessary to tell the story and provoking the appropriate emotional and intellectual response in the reader.

At first, I had somewhat mixed feelings about the ending, but in light of everything that led to it (and the twist in the bedroom really caught me by surprise and had me interrupt my inhaling of the book to loudly gasp!), I can only imagine Gayle Waters Waters saying “What would YOU have done?”

The Harpy is definitely one of my literary highlights of the year, an unforgettable tour-de-force of stark, believable humanity. ( )

In her debut novel(la) The End We Start From, Megan Hunter imagines a post-apocalyptic scenario where waters are inexplicably rising, laying waste to towns and cities. Many critics read in it a timely warning about climate change. However, there was also a sub-text to the novella which one could easily overlook – I interpreted The End We Start From as a celebration of motherhood and the sense of hope that a new birth brings with it.

The theme of motherhood also looms large in Megan Hunter’s second novella The Harpy, but here it is conveyed in much darker and more pessimistic hues. Indeed, The Harpy is an indictment of a patriarchal society that first expects women to be faithful wives, perfect mothers and dutiful homemakers and then sidelines them precisely for having fulfilled these expectations. In the novella, this critique of patriarchy is eventually extended to comprise the theme of domestic violence and the way that “forgiveness” is expected of (female) victims as a means to maintain the status quo. This widening of the theme leads to some loss of focus, but the work’s message remains a powerful one.

If, in her first novella, Hunter gave her personal twist to the post-apocalyptic genre, here she ventures into “domestic thriller” territory, albeit laced with mythical elements and more than a twist of horror.

Since her childhood, Lucy, the novella's protagonist is fascinated by harpies – legendary creatures of vengeance, birds with a female face and torso, “their eyes pale slits, their hair thick black lines, flying in shapes behind their heads”. At University, Lucy opts for Classics and chooses harpies as an object of research. Years later, now settled down with her husband Jake and tethered to a daily routine of caring for their two young boys, the harpies seem like a long-forgotten obsession. Until, that is, Lucy learns that Jake has been sleeping with a work colleague, Vanessa. Older, sophisticated and unblemished by child-bearing or rearing, Vanessa seems everything that Lucy is not. Jake admits to his infidelity and agrees to submit himself to an exemplary punishment. Thus begins Lucy’s change into the mythical harpy.

The Harpy manages to be at the same time a hyper-realist portrayal of the frustrations within a contemporary family and a mythical tale ripe with symbolism, told throughout in Hunter’s trademark poetic prose. The final pages are particularly haunting as the distinction between fantasy and reality becomes increasingly blurred. Some passages are not for the faint-hearted – but, given the subject-matter, some disturbing images are hardly out of place.

This is another strong showing from Megan Hunter. Clearly, the success of her debut was no fluke!

(An illustrated review can be found at: https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/2020/03/the-harpy-by-megan-hunter.html ) ( )