Laughs & life lessons in ‘Glorious Exploits’
Best friends Lampo and Gelon are potters by trade, but their souls are filled with poetry. It’s 412 B.C. and the city of Syracuse doesn’t know what hit it when these two hatch up the best worst idea: They’ll put on a play using the Athenian prisoners of war who are starving to death down in the rock quarry.
If the googly eyes on the cover didn’t make it apparent, Ferdia Lennon’s knockout debut novel “Glorious Exploits” is hilarious. In fact, it’s loaded with dark humor literally from page one. Never before has history been such a riot, and so indelibly endearing.
The book is crass, quick-witted, and dialogueheavy, making it a quick read to boot. Born in Dublin, Lennon infuses the story with a delightfully Irish lilt, complete with very Irish cursing, that gives the whole thing a kind of bizarre yet familiar approachability. The author’s also applied his deep interest and knowledge in classical history to give us exactly the context needed to set the stage for the epic tale he’ll tell.
And, while I’m sure history buffs will get some extra layers of entertainment, rest assured that even for someone like me who is woefully bad at history and has never taken much interest in Greek or Roman stories, it’s still a hoot.
“Glorious Exploits” is a story largely built as if on happenstance. The directors-in-the-making stumble on children playing in the street with valuable armor they found, that Lampo and Gelon can then sell to fund their project. Later, they happen to come across an old man singing for money in the streets whose story strikes Gelon deeply, but that Lampo only sees as a story, driving a wedge between the two.
But their friendship - and the story itself - is stronger than this. Watching them morph and grow with the project’s progression is deeply gratifying. And relieving. If at first Lampo seems almost unbearably awful sometimes, fret not, because it gets better.
As Gelon says, “It’s poetry we’re doing. It wouldn’t mean a thing if it were easy.”
The main characters are sympathetic and their goals admirable - certainly feeding the Athenians is humanitarian, even if gruffly so - but before long I found myself also rooting for their success in every venture that branches off from the play, from Gelon’s search for happiness to Lampo’s courting of Lyra, the new girl down at their favorite watering hole.
All told, the project is so much more than putting on a couple of Euripides tragedies; it’s lifegiving, and it challenges the barriers thrown up between “us” and “them.”
I never thought I could be so enraptured reading a book describe a play performance - especially a tragedy I didn’t know. Yet, somehow, when we finally get to the big day, Lennon has infused the pages with nervous anticipation that’s closer to reading a thriller than a historical comedy.
“Glorious Exploits” is a celebration of stories and storytelling lavishing in the emotional power of the arts, and one that’s especially apt in dealing with the fallout of the Peloponnesian War at a time when, in our present reality, fighting has left cities in rubble and millions of people facing starvation. Lennon offers a window through which to see past the fog of messy politics and view these tragedies with empathy.
Rita Bullwinkel knows a thing or two about the human body and the abuse it can take. In an interview with The Paris Review, the author, who played water polo in college, talked about the beating her body took for a sport few people care about. “My nose and all of my fingers have been broken. One time, when I was 16, I vomited for two days straight because of a full-force kick I took directly to the stomach.”
Bullwinkel brings that intimate knowledge of bodies in competition to her debut novel, “Headshot,” which takes place in Reno, Nevada, over two sweltering days in July as eight teenage girls vie for the Daughters of America Cup at Bob’s Boxing Palace, a faded, dusty gym that is far from palatial.
Andi is haunted by thoughts of a 4-year-old boy who drowned in a swimming pool when she was on duty as a lifeguard. Artemis, whose older sisters excelled at boxing, too, worries about not living up to the family legacy.
Bullwinkel gives us “head shots” of the other girls, too, each with her own weird obsessions and dreams. Andi may be fixated on the child’s corpse but she is also thinking about a boy lifeguard she wants to kiss. One moment Artemis hates Andi, “this sorry zit-ridden girl;” the next, she wants to be friends.
Bullwinkel’s rhythmic, muscular prose matches the visceral, sometimes stomach-churning material — vicious hits to the face and body, “Andi’s nose feeling like cornflakes” after Artemis’s glove lands between her eyeballs.
Stylistically, she takes risks. Though the story unfolds over just the 48 hours of the tournament, the omniscient narrator projects into the future to imagine the girls’ fates. She is clear-eyed, unsentimental. When Artemis is 60, she will not be able to hold a cup of tea because her fingers have been broken so many times. “Her injury… will not be some battle relic, but, rather, a sorry, pathetic disability.”
In 2018, Bullwinkel made a splash in the literary world when she published “Belly Up,” a collection of short stories with grotesque, surreal plot twists. One reviewer described it as full of “squirmy pleasures.”
Her new work continues in that vein with dark scenes and characters that can be difficult to read. Yet it also feels important because she gives agency to a group of girls who might not otherwise be seen and shows them to us in the full flush of youth, striving for recognition and glory. (AP)