Who Is The Main Narrator In The Penelopiad Book?

I recently read 'The Penelopiad' and was fascinated by its narrative style. The main narrator is Penelope herself, the wife of Odysseus from Homer's 'Odyssey'. She tells her story from the underworld, reflecting on her life and the events that unfolded during Odysseus's long absence. What struck me most was her voice—witty, sharp, and unapologetic. She doesn’t shy away from criticizing the myths that painted her as just a loyal wife. Instead, she reclaims her story, exposing the injustices she faced, like the hanging of her twelve maids. The chorus of the maids also chimes in, adding a haunting, poetic layer to the narrative. Their voices intertwine with Penelope’s, creating a multifaceted perspective that challenges the traditional heroic tale. Margaret Atwood’s choice to give Penelope and the maids this platform is brilliant, turning a sidelined character into a compelling protagonist.

In 'The Penelopiad', Margaret Atwood flips the script on Greek mythology by letting Penelope take center stage as the primary narrator. Penelope speaks from the afterlife, offering a retrospective and often sardonic account of her life alongside Odysseus. Her tone is refreshingly modern, blending humor with poignant critiques of patriarchal norms. She doesn’t just recount events; she dissects them, questioning the glorification of Odysseus’s adventures and her own portrayal as the 'faithful wife'.

The maids who were hanged in the original myth also serve as a collective narrator, their voices rising in a lyrical, almost vengeful chorus. Their interludes contrast sharply with Penelope’s more measured storytelling, highlighting the brutality they endured. This dual narration adds depth, forcing readers to confront the silenced voices of mythology. Atwood’s decision to structure the book this way isn’t just stylistic—it’s a deliberate act of subversion, reclaiming agency for characters who were mere footnotes in Homer’s epic.

What I love most is how Penelope’s narration feels intimate, like she’s confiding in you over a cup of wine. She’s self-aware, flawed, and utterly human, far from the idealized figure of legend. The maids’ contributions, though brief, are gut-wrenching, reminding us that every myth has casualties. Together, they turn 'The Penelopiad' into a powerful commentary on storytelling itself—who gets to tell it, and who gets erased.

Reading 'The Penelopiad' felt like uncovering a hidden side of a story I thought I knew. Penelope, Odysseus’s wife, is the main narrator, but she’s nothing like the passive figure from 'The Odyssey'. Here, she’s sharp, ironic, and deeply introspective, recounting her life from the underworld with a mix of resignation and defiance. Her voice is so vivid it’s like she’s sitting across from you, rolling her eyes at the myths that reduced her to a symbol.

The twelve maids who were executed in the original tale also narrate sections, their voices merging into a haunting chorus. Their passages are poetic and tragic, a stark counterpoint to Penelope’s drier wit. Atwood uses this dual narration to explore themes of power and silence, giving weight to characters who were literally hanged out of the story. It’s a masterclass in perspective—Penelope’s hindsight contrasts with the maids’ raw, unresolved anger, creating a dialogue that questions who history remembers and why. This isn’t just a retelling; it’s a reckoning.