To date, I had enjoyed everything I'd read by Colm Toibin. I love his lyrical writing, his ability to enter a female character's psyche which is a gift that's rare in a man. At first, I thought this book was going to be similar in style to The Testament of Mary, i.e. a familiar story told through a female character and from a different perspective than usual. When Toibin is writing in the first person as Clytemnestra, I was drawn into the story in an atmosphere of sinister suspense. The sentences are generally short, the style feels like a translation from the Greek and is very successful as such. When we moved on to the third person narration of Orestes' story however, I quickly became bored. It needed to be told but was an annoying interruption and I longed to be back with Clytemnestra. Electra's story was also told in the first person, again successfully, and again the atmosphere became suspenseful and sinister. I have very mixed feelings about this book overall. Toibin excels when writing in a female voice but for me the two styles, first and third person, didn't sit merge well for me. I'm still a Toibin fan but hope that this book is not a sign of things to come.

Colm Toibin seems to be able to write anything. This was a great read. It starts off with such intensity and maintains a high level of tension and interest right through to the end. I really enjoyed his use of alternate P.O.V. and the writing was so solid. I also appreciated how he made the book short and concentrated. It was the perfect length for the story it told. Well done.

This is an interesting portrait of Clymenestra. After just seeing the Mozart opera Idomeneo, it is fascinating how the old Greek myths can be related to modern life.

The sections of this book told from Clytemnestra's viewpoint were powerful and fascinating. The scene of the death of her daughter took my breath away & I could feel the pain & the hatred welling up in her. He made her story very current while maintaining the mood of Greek tragedy.

When the narrative changes to Orestes' story, however, it lost some momentum for me. I expected the son of Agamemnon to be bold & fierce, so I could not help but feel disappointed in his meandering, but maybe that was the intention. Contrasting his voice to the fire & ice of Clytemnestra makes his story seem to plod along a bit at times..

Sections of this book were impossible to put down, so I am rounding up my 3.5 stars to 4 for the ferocity of the passages with Clytemnestra. Although I am familiar with many of the titles he has written, for some reason this is the first book I have read by the author, but it will not be the last!

The House of Names is a retelling of the Greek legends of the House of Atreus. But as with his previous novel, The Testament of Mary, Colm Toibin takes a very human, prosaic approach to the story. The Gods who had dominated both Greek legends and the Holy Bible are not there; we just see the ordinary men and (especially) the women of the stories. The goal, I presume, it to help the reader appreciate the ancient world as one inhabited by real people with real emotions and vulnerabilities.

And this starts so well. Clytemnestra is a mother as well as a Queen. Her daughter Iphigenia has been sacrificed by Agamemnon, the king, at the instigation of the gods to help him win the war. Clytemnestra is distraught with grief and willing to do whatever it takes, with whomever necessary, to exact her bloody revenge. Her first person narrative is genuinely arresting.

But then we disappear off to follow Orestes, her son, in third person. This starts off as idle life in a palace under siege, but soon becomes a bit of a road trip as Orestes is abducted and carted off across the land to a remote farmhouse. This works for creating a sense of scale to the land, and the people feel real enough that you can imagine these journeys across the rocky landscape of modern Greece. But it slows the narrative and dispels the sense of chaos and despair that was built so carefully in Clytemnestra’s section.

And then, eventually, the narrative shifts again to a first person point of view of Electra, sister to Orestes and daughter to Clytemnestra. At this point, things get really confusing. Electra may or may not have the gift of prophesy, and she is determined to avenge her mother for the murder of her father. This is the point that the humanisation of the story fails. Without gods, Agamemnon’s sacrifice of Iphigenia is unjustifiable and Clytemnestra’s grief and anger was well founded. Why, then, would Electra side with Agamemnon over her mother? In a half-hearted attempt to explain this, Electra says that the gods have gone away; that the people of the palace were privileged to walk among the gods for a while, but those days are gone. This explanation doesn’t quite carry.

The rest of the novel is just plain paranoia and madness. We lose track of who is trying to double cross who; there are bodies piling up all around and we lose all sense of character and emotion; it is just a series of events with little purpose. The land is at war; it has always been at war; it will always be at war. Apart from a very brief reprise of Clytemnestra, the second half of the novel is a bit of a slog.

At the end, it isn’t quite clear what the purpose of the novel has been. Neither is it really clear whose story is being told. After all, Clytemnestra, by far the most engaging character, is all but written out after the first quarter. Orestes and Electra are not really very interesting; and the other characters are really given little more than supporting roles. There is not enough continuity of purpose; there is no continuing quest. But the opening section is till sublime.

Historical fiction. Myth. Storytelling and the myth of storytelling. Ultra engaging and grounded in the crux of mythology but with a new and interesting spin. I found it insanely fascinating and would recommend it to whomever was looking for a great read.

Colm Toibin is a brilliant writer with great range. House of Names is as far from Brooklyn which is as far from The Master as you can imagine. A retelling of the Greek tragedy of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, the book begins with the sacrifice of their daughter Iphigenia and Clytemnestra's vow of vengeance. The story is told by three of the names of this house of tragedy: Clytemnestra, her other daughter, Electra, and her son, Orestes.

The sections narrated by Clytemnestra are the most powerful. Driven by rage, Clytemnestra plots her revenge without knowing the cost it will take from her being. Electra, the neglected daughter is as powerful in her way as Clytemnestra and only poor Orestes, although brave and bright, is left adrift in the political turmoil unleashed by Clytemnestra's actions. His sections were, I suppose as befits his character, less powerful but then I don't know if I could have been able to tolerate an entire book told in the white heat voice of Clytemnestra.

The story may be old but the emotions as portrayed by Toibin are as fresh as today. Loss, fear, pain, rage, are all vividly present in this book. I was completely on Clytemnestra's side as she told her story; it was only after witnessing the effects on her children and those around her, only as I heard their stories, that my reaction changed. Toibin portrays a mother's grief in almost unbearable clarity, as he does with the many other episodes of grief in this tragic story.

I felt exhausted when I finished this novel but in the best of ways. I had been taken on an emotional journey. No matter that I already knew the characters and the plot (more or less, the story has several versions), Toibin made the narrative as gripping as any contemporary tale. And the prose in which he tells it is masterfully crafted. As the pace intensifies towards the end, so does the beauty of the writing. And the motifs of names, gently brought in at the beginning, whip the air and fill the pages of the ending pages.

I want to thank NetGalley, Scribner Publishers, and Colm Toibin for the opportunity to read this novel. The opinions I express are entirely my own.

An interesting take on an age old story. Well written. Lovely.

Colm Toibin takes on a retelling of the ancient story of the House of Atreus (Agamemnon, Clytemnestra, Electra and Orestes). It's a bloody and twisted story and Toibin does a great job in the retelling. It reads like many historical novels of the DiMedici family or the early Tudor kings. But, did this particular story need to be updated for modern audiences? I'm not so sure.

I have long loved the tales surrounding Orestes and Electra, so I was thrilled to obtain an ARC of Colm Tóibín's House of Names. Overall, I found it a delightful, visceral read. Tóibín takes the original stories as a basis for his plot, but he adds characters and changes scenarios here and there, creating a completely new version of this family drama. This means that, although it is familiar, there is also something different and exciting for those who already know the Ancient Greek plays. For me, Clytemnestra came across the best. While I also enjoyed the segments that focused on Orestes and Electra, it was their mother who shone as the central figure in the piece, haunting the tale even in death. The only reason this gets four stars from me and not five is the fact that I found the portrayal of Electra a little wishy-washy at times. I never got a strong sense of who she was, compared to the beautiful characterisation of Clytemnestra. Nevertheless, as always, Tóibín's prose is eminently readable and I tore through the pages, always loath to set the book aside each night. I would recommend this book to fans of Tóibín's writing and for lovers of Greek myth who are looking for new takes on classic tales.

I had high expectations for Colm Tóibín's new novel. His Testament of Mary was so powerful, so raw in its evocation of a mother's grief, that I thought his treatment of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon would be equally striking. And the opening line seemed to bear that promise out: 'I have been acquainted,' muses Clytemnestra, 'with the smell of death'. Unfortunately, however, the book has a strangely detached quality, as if all the emotion of this shocking story has been cauterised out of the characters.

The main characters are taken straight from Aeschylus, but Tóibín adds others - some are necessary, to populate the palace and the village, but I was particularly puzzled by the character of Leander. A contemporary of Orestes, he becomes close to the young prince as they grow up and later takes a leading role in the opposition to Clytemnestra. My first question is why invent an entirely new character, when Pylades exists in the myths and could easily have been adapted for this role? My second question is what Tóibín wants Leander to stand for, especially towards the end. Is he supposed to show that new regimes often morph to reflect the status quo? Tóibín must be trying to make some political or philosophical point here, but I don't quite feel I can get at it. And Leander, like the others, is frustratingly blank emotionally. What are we meant to believe? That the entire population has been traumatised by the events of the war and the aftermath of Aegisthus' and Clytemnestra's reign of terror?

It was a strange book: hard to pin down, hard to enjoy and bizarrely chilly, when its story is one of the few that allows for full-scale, scenery-chomping, fiery melodrama. Having read only one of Tóibín's books before, I may have misunderstood his usual style, and it's true that this isn't poorly done - it just drifts along on the surface, without allowing you to taste the intensity of this classic tale of blood, murder and revenge.

For the full review, due to be published on 15 February 2017, see my blog:
https://theidlewoman.net/2017/02/15/house-of-names-colm-toibin

House of Names is a novel about revenge written with masterful and haunting prose. It tells the story of Clytemnestra, Agamemnon’s wife left behind after he has sacrificed their daughter and sailed off to the Trojan War, and how her thirst for revenge impacts her and her children, plus those around them. This tragic story of family killing family is also a detailed look at individuals waiting for revenge and hoping that it will bring catharsis.

Tóibín uses names and narratives from Greek mythology and dramatic tragedy by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripedes, but uses modern language and new characters and events to provide a very fresh take on this ancient material. The cursed House of Atreus is here for those who know classical material, but at the same time, the novel works well for those unfamiliar with the other material, a gripping novel about murder and revenge. Reflections upon the gods and the loss and change of systems of belief is another major element to the book which gives it a modern feel, showing how revenge can substitute for belief when it seems as if one’s belief system has failed.

The style of House of Names, particularly in the sections from Clytemnestra’s point of view, are its particular strength, capturing an ancient feel of revenge alongside her personal emotions. Tóibín’s novel is a fantastic reworking of myth and tragedy into a thrilling and enjoyable read.

House of Names is Irish writer Colm Toibin's retelling of the story of the house of Atreus - an ancient tale fraught with tragedy and vengeance, most famously depicted in Aeschylus' Oresteia. This is going to be a long and detailed (though spoiler-free) review, because Ancient Greek lit is something of a passion of mine and this was my most anticipated read of 2017.

This is a story that I've loved for years, and have loved enough to read it in multiple iterations by different authors. Which begs the question - why? What exactly does a retelling accomplish? How does an author effectively strike a balance between the old and the new, between honoring a story which has been loved for centuries, and giving it new depth? I think readers go into retellings hoping to see the elements that we loved about the original preserved, but also to see gaps filled in, or to see a new intimacy given to a story originally told with impartiality. This question was on my mind the whole time I was reading this novel - what has Toibin succeeded in adding to this familiar tale?

House of Names begins with the point of view of Clytemnestra, who plots to murder her husband Agamemnon in retaliation for Agamemnon sacrificing their eldest daughter, Iphigenia. Clytemnestra is a character who I find particularly intriguing, and a character who I think has been unfairly maligned in various works of literature through the ages. Toibin's Clytemnestra is everything I could have hoped for: she masquerades vulnerability with a hard exterior, she is motivated by vengeance while being grounded by a love for her family. She's complex and nuanced and Toibin succeeds in humanizing rather than vilifying her. It's a promising start to a novel which I hoped would be told in its entirety from this perspective. It's hard to build on the thematic richness of The Oresteia, which concerns itself with questions of conflicting systems of justice (justice through vengeance vs. justice through law), but one often unexamined thematic thread is that of gender, which permeates the original narrative as Clytemnestra's crimes are viewed through a different lens than Orestes' and Agamemnon's. How better to give this story new depth from a contemporary perspective than to tell it from a female point of view?

But then the narration shifts to Orestes, and things go downhill. As we plod through an unnecessarily long chapter detailing Orestes' kidnap from the palace of Mycenae, I couldn't help but to think: why? Why are we devoting so much of this narrative to Orestes? Clytemnestra is a character who has historically never been given much of a narrative voice. Orestes, on the other hand - there is no dearth of material surrounding Orestes. Homer and Aeschylus and Pindar and Sophocles and Euripides have pretty much got that covered.

But interestingly, Toibin takes this character of Orestes who is traditionally known for his resolve, and renders him rather inert. In Homer's Odyssey, Orestes is consistently held up as a shining example of decisive action to Odysseus' son Telemachus, who is being urged to reclaim his house from the influx of his mother's suitors. In Toibin's House of Names, Orestes is a follower - he doesn't make decisions, but rather, waits for the affirmation of his friend Leander and his sister Electra. Is this an intentional subversion of Orestes' traditionally hyper-masculine narrative? If so, why does Toibin allow Orestes' point of view to overpower his narrative at the expense of Clytemnestra and Electra's perspectives? Wouldn't a more effective subversion be to reduce Orestes' narration, or eliminate it altogether?

Once Orestes' perspective took over, I couldn't help but to feel a certain aimlessness to this story. After the sacrifice of Iphigenia, one of the most poignant and harrowing renderings of that scene that I've ever read, Toibin's narrative begins to be infiltrated by details I no longer recognize. While I have no theoretical objections to authors deviating from the well worn path of canon (some of the best retellings I've read have involved original characters or invented plotlines - Katharine Beutner's Alcestis and David Malouf's Ransom come to mind), I struggle to discern the rationale behind some of Toibin's choices. He omits Pylades and invents a character to essentially fill the role of Pylades - why? He changes the duration of the Trojan War from nine years to five years - why? He does a complete overhaul of Aegisthus' narrative - why? None of this becomes self-evident throughout Toibin's meandering story, and the result is frustrating. The further you read, the more this story's initial poignancy becomes diluted.

Since this review has erred on the side of the critical, I do want to highlight what I thought were particular successes. Toibin's writing is beautiful and visceral. This is only the second Toibin novel I've read after Brooklyn, which I enjoyed well enough while being frustrated by a certain detachment in the narration, but I didn't think that was the case here. This is an inherently brutal story, and Toibin's prose succeeds in adding another layer of darkness and unease, creating a tense and urgent environment. The two chapters which focus on Clytemnestra are superb, and the first-person narration was an excellent choice here.

I would tentatively recommend this to readers who maybe aren't so familiar with the original story that Toibin is attempting to build upon, because this seems to be where the majority of my criticism lies. It's impossible for me to say how this story would stand on its own for one who is entirely unfamiliar with these characters and their fates, but maybe that reader would fare better with the unconventional journey that Toibin takes us on. It's not that I necessarily want to see the events of Aeschylus' Oresteia rehashed in exactly the same fashion, but I felt like Toibin never embraced his unique contemporary perspective to its full potential; the invented details felt extraneous and did nothing to augment the themes present in the original.

This wasn't a bad novel. I'm always critical of the things I love the most.