Dear readers, First, a confession. In addition to being a certified bookworm, I am also a theater nerd. I caught the bug early thanks in part to a literal bug: I was cast as Mrs. Ladybug in my third-grade class’s production of “James and the Giant Peach.” By the time I got to college, I was running a site-specific Shakespeare troupe and had discovered a particular love for reimagining old texts. There’s something thrilling about finding contemporary relevance in a story written hundreds of years ago — like stumbling upon a secret portal that connects a post-Reformation English theater to a 21st-century American quad. This is as true in literature as it is onstage. These two books take some very old tales — centuries older, even, than the Bard himself — and look at them with new eyes. It’s a testament to the power of a great story to transcend time and space, speaking to our humanity in a way that defies history. To paraphrase another retelling of a Greek myth (still playing at the Walter Kerr Theater), these are old songs, and sometimes sad songs, but we continue to sing them anyway. —Jennifer “The Song of Achilles,” by Madeline MillerFiction, 2011
One way to put a new spin on an old story is to hand the wheel to a previously obscure character, providing a fresh perspective on familiar adventures. It’s a trick that Miller pulls off with tender precision in this prizewinning debut, which approaches the events of the Trojan War (recounted, most famously, in Homer’s “Iliad”) through the eyes of Patroclus, the closest companion of the warrior Achilles. In Homer’s telling the men’s friendship is erotically charged but platonic; by contrast, Miller makes it explicitly romantic — painting a lush and tragic love story about two boys brought together by calamity and cursed by fate. Miller was a classics scholar and high school teacher for years before she tried her hand at fiction, but you wouldn’t know this was her first novel from how skillfully she weaves her tale. Her prose is infused with heady desire and sensory imagery; when the pair kiss for the first time, Patroclus describes how Achilles “smelled like almonds and earth. He pressed against me, crushing my lips to wine.” It is a 1,000-year-old spoiler to say that the war is unkind to the lovers, and Miller’s depiction of Achilles’ overwhelming grief has haunted me since I first read this book. But she also offers a glimmer of redemption — a reminder that, in the retelling of old tales, we keep the flame of memory alive. Warning: You may want to read this one with a box of Kleenex. Read if you like: Emily Wilson’s recent translation of the “Iliad”; the musical “Hadestown”; “Call Me by Your Name” (both the André Aciman novel and the Luca Guadagnino film); “The Pairing,” by Casey McQuiston. “Bea Wolf,” by Zach Weinersmith; illustrated by BouletGraphic novel, 2023
A couple of years ago, when my cousin’s daughter was 4, my sister and I babysat her for a night. For story time, she chose a new graphic novel her dad had just picked up, which my sister started reading to her. About halfway through the 208 pages, we realized that the toddler had fallen asleep. But the two of us were so wrapped up in the story that my sister just kept reading aloud, right up until the dramatic finish. This is all to say that, while Weinersmith’s retelling of the Old English epic “Beowulf” is technically a children’s book, no reader is too old to embrace its charms — chief among them the evocative and frequently uproarious language, whose rhythms echo the alliterative verse of the original, and Boulet’s illustrations, which burst across the page in exuberant black-and-white strokes, swelling and shrinking with our tiny heroes’ fortunes. As for those heroes, it turns out Beowulf, the monster Grendel and his vengeful mother transfer surprisingly well to Treeheart, the stronghold of a clan of kids whose candy-fueled existence is threatened by old Mr. Grindle, the “grim-faced joy-gobbler” next door, who wants them to stop making noise and grow up. There are many delights to be found in this book — Weinersmith’s gymnastic alliterations make it a particularly great read-aloud — but the moment I knew I was hooked was when he introduced Heidi, the feisty 5-year-old defender of a besieged playground fortress, as “forged in sparkles and fury.” Now that’s a hero I would follow into battle any day. Read if you like: Roald Dahl; Lemony Snicket; “Grendel,” by John Gardner; Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky.” We hope you’ve enjoyed this newsletter, which is made possible through subscriber support. Subscribe to The New York Times. Friendly reminder: Check your local library for books! Many libraries allow you to reserve copies online. Like this email? Sign-up here or forward it to your friends. Have a suggestion or two on how we can improve it? Let us know at books@nytimes.com. Plunge further into books at The New York Times or our reading recommendations.
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