The Women of Artemis

An amazing story that was very moving and got you thinking. One initially felt sorry for the women, but they developed from victims into warriors. It was fascinating to see how these women and Otrera grew. It is also great to observe the transformation of the protagonist, as she initially reluctantly takes on the role of a leader but then embraces this role and gives her best to do justice to herself and the women who follow her. Otrera learns from her mistakes and suffers setbacks, for she is only human; she too sometimes succumbs to her emotions and overcomes them with the help of her friends. The supporting characters are also fascinating and quickly grow dear to you—well, at least the good ones. I especially love Ares, who is portrayed quite kindly. The only thing I found disappointing was that Artemis never appeared in person. If Ares can appear in person and help, it would have been nice to see Artemis as well; after all, the book is called "The Woman of Artemis". While it is not for people with a gentle disposition, as it deals with rather dark themes (loss of children, violence against women, etc.) and can be quite bloody, there is a thread of hope that runs throughout the book. For me it was an emotional journey that moved me to tears more than once and kept me eager to see what would happen next. There was not a single moment when I did not root for Otrera and her women.

In theory "The Women of Artemis" should be an intriguing read. Otrera was not a character of Greek mythology I was aware of, unlike her daughters Hippolyta and Penthesileia, but her strength was not as palpable as I would have liked, mostly reacting to men instead of having real agency. I did like the portrayal of Ares as one of the most decent male characters, which is not his typical role. Given the title of the novel, I would have liked for him to interact with Artemis though. They are not a typical combination, and the Amazons seem to be their one common ground. All in all, the novel is fine, but it doesn't reach the heights of Jennifer Saint's "Hera" or Costanza Casati's "Clytemnestra".