Time passes, but some stories never get old.

I’ve always — since like 6th grade — had a bit of a penchant for Greek Mythology. It’s an itch that seems to most frequently be scratched by videogames (God of War, Hades, Assassin’s Creed Odyssey or the OG: Age of Mythology), but one that occasionally will be satisfied by books and literature.

Back in 2023 I did a bit of a binge, finishing Fit For The Gods, Galatea, and Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief, but the Greek gods and the myths surrounding them are never really that far off in my mind.

It would seem the same holds true in the current literary zeitgeist. A simple search of ‘Greek Mythology retellings’ in Google returned a Goodreads list with some 292 titles. This March saw the release of a publication entitled The Brainrot Odyssey: A Terminally Online Translation in which:

“. . . all 24 books of Iakovos Polylas’ Modern Greek verse translation alongside a new English translation in ‘brainrot’ — the internet-native, meme-inflicted register of a generation that communicates through screens.”

Also, Madeline Miller is purported to have a new retelling in 2026 as well, this one focused on Persephone!

What a time to be alive!

If Miller’s Song of Achilles can be said to have opened the way for less conservative retellings of these beloved stories, then Circe (and to a lesser extent Galatea) really kicked open the door for feminist retellings and in the years since we’ve seen a surge in retellings focused on heroines and women pushed to the margins by previous iterations of the myths (love this!).

Perhaps this is just me, but any book or media about Greek Mythology not following this trend seemed a bit retaliatory, and most often garnered a heavy sense of skepticism, if not full on ickiness.

And then along comes Daedalus is Dead, marketed as:

“A delirious and gripping story of fatherhood and masculinity, told through the reimagined Greek myth of Daedalus, Icarus, King Minos, Ariadne, and the Minotaur.”

I mentioned in my End of Year Book Tag (2025) that the myth of Icarus and Daedalus is one of my favorites, after reading this novella I should amend that to say: the myth of Icarus flying too high and falling to his death is a parable which resonates with me . . . I don’t really know shit about Daedalus.

Edith Hamilton’s Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes — kinda my source book when it comes to Greek myths — only has about four paragraphs dedicated to Daedalus and his son Icarus, while a full eleven pages are dedicated to Theseus, the Minotaur, Ariadne and king Minos (which I will have to read again now!).

It makes an obvious kind of sense that Daedalus’ story would center around fatherhood, and that a critique of masculinity would present itself through the father’s character and the choices he makes in relationship to his son.

Side note: though I haven’t had a chance to review all the games yet on this blog, this is one of the central elements of the God of War series. To over simplify it: rebellion against a bad father in the Greek Saga, and then the journey to becoming a “good” father in the Norse games.

In Daedalus is Dead, our legendary inventor’s main tasks are kind of split. When Daedalus is alive, he wants to protect and provide for his son, escape Minos, and make a better life himself and his family. In the afterlife, he simply wants to reunite with his son and kind of get the boy’s approval (though what he must do in pursuit of that goal is far from simple).

Icarus’ approval is so crucial for Daedalus, because as the reader learns more about the man, it becomes apparent that Daedalus isn’t a wholly good dude. The sort of idealized identity that Daedalus relates to the reader in the beginning of the story is in many ways misremembered or embellished to benefit Daedalus.

Daedalus presents himself as a maker, someone who builds things, who creates and therefore is the opposite of the masculinity defined by someone like Minos, who only conquers, takes, and destroys.

But what does Daedalus build?

Toys for baby Icarus, beautiful palaces and temples, but also warships and a prison-maze to trap and isolate young Asterion who is terrifying and deadly, but also — as Ariadne points out to Daedalus — only a child.

There’s so much to unpack within these pages, and I don’t want to spoil too much of the story, but I wanted to bring up one more thing which I feel is important to this conception of Daedalus, and to its accounting of masculinity.

That is the river Lethe, which in Greek mythology is one of five rivers found in the underworld of Hades. Drinking from the river causes complete forgetfulness. In Daedalus is Dead, who drinks from this river and for what reasons (again no spoilers) is quite notable, and interesting (at least to me) thematically. There seems to be an element to masculinity, and the masculine conception of the self, that is picking and choosing what to remember. I’m not sure I’ve fully figured out what Daedalus is Dead is trying to convey through this inclusion, but I’m also completely fine with it being somewhat messy or open-ended.

Perhaps my only criticism of the novella, is that there were no noticeably queer characters. For a story that seems to showcase so many forms of masculinity with its different characters, I would have liked to see some queer characters in the conversation as well.

Give Daedalus is Dead a Read?

Yup! Daedalus is Dead has completely redefined the myth of Daedalus for me, adding swaths of nuance and intricacy to a character which before now had seemed somewhat secondary. Though small in page count, this story looms large in implication, and has a lot to say about the roles men play in society.

That’s all I have for this week!

Has anyone read this novella yet? What’s your favorite greek myth? Who is your favorite hero or heroine? Favorite god or goddess? As always, leave your thoughts and insights in the comments! Looking forward to talking about this one!

Until next time!