Isabelle Knops is an aspiring author writing a novel, who sketches when inspiration wanes.
‘Harpies’ is a story that brings together Greek mythology and the modern world through a cooking show, allowing misunderstood women from mythology (and liminal beings) to interact with the modern person and discuss issues such as periods and menopause.
‘Please welcome,’ Echo’s voice bounced through Studio 1 of Euphrosyne Production Limited, ‘our phenomenal hostesses, the ever-stunning AELLO, OCYPETE and CELAENO! Damn, Celaeno! You rock those sage green wings, babes!’
Celaeno stretched her recently dyed plumage to the delight of the crowd, and waved at their chosen mortals seated in the audience as they welcomed the Harpy sisters with cries of ‘I love you!’ and ‘You girls are amazing’. Indeed, the sisters looked thrilling as they ascended the stage single file—winking, waving and blowing kisses at their fans. It had not been an easy journey for them, and they had worked hard to build their reputation, gaining fans along the way here and there. It was only after they published their memoir in 1990 that mortals, in particular those identifying as female, really started listening to them. People were opening up to the idea that writers like Homer and Shakespeare had spent their time mansplaining stories that had not been theirs to share, misconstruing their life and doings for personal gain.
‘Good evening, my lovelies!’ Ocypete chirped, always the hyper one out of the three.
The crowd roared in response.
‘And welcome back to Tartarus’ Kitchen, I dare say it’s going to be a toasty night!’ Aello lulled with a tender smile directed at a mortal with big glasses covering most of their face.
‘I think you’re right, Lo,’ Celaeno rumbled. ‘I don’t know about you all, but I can’t wait to see what tonight’s guests have in store for us—I’m famished.’
The sisters’ words were met with more cheering, and they soaked it up—after everything, they deserved it. Neither Hades nor Zeus had made it easy on our ladies after they handed in their notice the day their publishing deal was signed. The two Olympians had been facing backlash for some time at that point, but it turned especially ugly for them when the sisters’ working conditions were revealed in a chapter—the 24 hours a day they spent collecting and annoying humans and demi-gods with little to no pay. Of course, there had been the odd person they had eaten, they were not about to lie to their readers. But what were they supposed to do, starve? Not all of their targets could afford a feast like Aeneas. They didn’t enjoy it, they made that clear; besides, humans had a bitter taste to them. It was this honesty that had appealed to their readers and changed everyone’s fates.
In an attempt to defile the sisters’ reputation, Zeus and Hades released footage, showcasing the sexual relations they had had with some of the sisters throughout the centuries. The sisters were quick to release a statement, explaining that their sex life had and remained a private matter that neither Zeus nor Hades had any right to share with the public—they had never shared intimate details about their romances. Yes, Aello, had dedicated quite a lot of words to her unlikely friendship with the only female Argonaut, but any relations that may or may not have taken place between her and Atalanta remain a mystery.
It was this constant hunger and misogyny they faced that bore the way to Tartarus’ Kitchen. They wanted to try all those dishes created by human hand they had missed out on, and give those who, like themselves, had been mistreated in the past a platform to share their stories and give advice to the mortals of today—including men. The sisters were willing to help anyone as long as they were respectful, and accepting of others.
‘We are happy to announce that joining us for our Classics week are none other than queens—’
Warrior if you please,’ a voice called from backstage, interrupting Celaeno.
‘Of course, warrior—apologies, Celaeno, mighty Amazon that you are. Ocypete, do make sure the teleprompter is correct next time.’
‘Eek! I’m sorry about that Celaeno,’ she paused, ‘Celaeno the Amazon, not my sister,’ she added hastily. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking, or doing when I wrote that!’
This happened every time the Amazon was invited onto the show, at this point it was somewhat expected by the audience, who were eating up the bickering like it was their favourite treat.
‘It’s fine—please don’t beat yourself up about it. We could spar a bit later? That would make up for it,’ the Amazon responded with her usual offer.
‘Sure, sure, that sounds good!’ Ocypete responded, hopeful that she had remembered to replenish the first aid kit since their last encounter.
‘Not to be rude, but are you both done? We do have a show to get on with, as confusing as it’s going to be with two Celaenos present.’ Celaeno clacked her claws together. ‘As I was saying, we are proud to announce that the guests joining us from the Elysium Fields are none other than HELEN OF TROY, who awed us with her vegetarian lasagna last time, and CELAENO—who fought honourably against the brute Heracles.’
The mention of Heracles triggered a round of booing. Rightly so, he had not been the goofy and gentle guy Disney had made him out to be—although that may be a bit unfair, he had been a nice enough guy before guts and glory became his motto.
‘And last, but never least, joining us for her first time is our very own, JOCASTA!’ Celaeno finished.
The booing made room for cheering at the sight of a vision dressed in pale pink—Jocasta had dressed to impress.
The six of them greeted each other with kisses to the cheek, apart from our Amazon who happily bruised everyone’s shoulders with her fists. ‘It’s good to be back, thank you for having me,’ she said with a broad grin. ‘I can’t wait to make some nourishment to share and bring hellfire to all of your bellies!’
‘Right, ‘Aello broke the silence that had fallen, in remembrance of the last time they had tasted the Amazon’s food, which had ended with a deep clean of the studio’s toilets and one hospital visit. ‘Let’s get everyone to their stations and have a look at today’s ingredients. Once that’s out of the way, we’ll open the floor to you lovely lot at home and in the audience to ask your questions.’
‘Are we to answer all questions?’ Jocasta asked tentatively. ‘You know, I might not be the best person to give marital advice.’
‘Feel free to give your view on anything, it’s good for our viewers to get a full perspective. There are no taboo topics—unless it’s about my talons. Like I told The Pheme, they’re very much real and not implants,’ Aello expressed with a scowl.
There was not much love lost between Pheme, the Editor-in-Chief of The Pheme, and Aello after the magazine ran an article on her talons, which were indeed implants … Pheme was not in the business of spreading fake news, they prided themselves in publishing informative pieces on prominent mythological figures to enrich the lives of their readership; the article had been rather flattering, covering the matter of ageing of the mythical corpus in the 21st Century and how well Aello was doing for herself; an idol she had been called.
‘You need to get over this Lo—Pheme didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,’ Helen reproached gently. ‘Besides, it’s not something to be embarrassed by. Ageing is an experience that should be cherished.’
‘But I am—well,’ Aello stuttered, ‘should be immortal, I shouldn’t be losing talons.’
‘You’re adorable!’ Someone from the audience shouted in support.
‘Yeah, you’re awesome! Mortality suits you!’ Someone else joined in, and a domino effect rippled through their audience, causing Aello to blush.
‘I agree with Helen and our audience,’ Ocypete piped up. ‘And as for the immortality Zeus punished us with—I think it’s a blessing. It puts things in perspective.’
‘ANYHOW,’ Celaeno interrupted, ‘I’m sure our viewers have questions of their own they’re dying to have answers to. So let’s quickly move on to our ingredients, shall we.’
‘Actually, I think age is an important topic worth discussing further,’ Jocasta, who in her late sixties had experienced the luxury of ageing during a time when women often died younger, disagreed. There had been many times that she had sought answers when she was alive—like what products she should use to keep her skin looking fresh for suiters. She understood the concerns Aello was facing all too well.
‘Yes, it is, but we should also not forget why we’re here,’ Celaeno said with an uneasy smile.
‘I understand that this is a cooking show, but isn’t the point also to discuss topics women struggle with—that there is no topic taboo? It’s obvious that Aello is struggling—I don’t think she should be ignored just because she happens to be a host.’
A murmur of agreement rang through the studio.
It’s not that Celaeno wanted to downplay her sister’s struggle, she simply was a stickler for schedules, and they were falling behind. They would be lucky if they finished a single dish before their airtime concluded—and to add to her dilemma, she was indeed famished.
‘Let’s compromise,’ Ocypete suggested, fully aware of both of her sisters’ toils. ‘We’ll move over to the counters, which I believe are laden with freshly sourced ingredients from an Italian farmers market, and continue our discussion.’
*
People were opening up to the idea that writers like Homer and Shakespeare had spent their time mansplaining stories that had not been theirs to share, misconstruing their life and doings for personal gain.
*
‘Vivienne, 28, from Yorkshire, writes that as much as she hates her period, the idea of the menopause scares her even more. She’s not sure if she can handle any more mood swings, and she would like to know how any of us are handling our menopause, if we have it, or are transitioning. She apologises if she’s offended anyone, as she’s unsure if Harpies can have periods and if our guests were old enough to have experienced it. Well, I’m afraid I personally can’t comment on this Vivienne, I like you, am still cursed with a painful monthly visitor—so rest assured no offence was caused. Right, then. Ladies, who would be able to offer some insight?’ Ocypete asked.
‘Jocasta?’ Helen turned to the former queen.
‘I don’t know what Vivienne means by menopause.’
‘Sure you do,’ Helen disagreed, ‘it created quite a stir in 1821 when that French physician, whatever his name was, came up with the term. Remember? You told me about battling with similar symptoms when you were alive.’
Helen and Jocasta had been enjoying some tea that day, when the word spread through the Elysian Fields like wildfire. At first, they had been elated, joining in the frenzy of toasting women getting tipsy. Finally, they had a word for what many of their elderly, and some younger, neighbours had suffered under. It sparked hope, for the first time there seemed to be a genuine interest in helping their sisters in the mortal realm, not making them suffer even more. Or so they thought—it was when new arrivals shared their stories of mistreatment and reported about their stays in asylums that a real commotion started, an uproar that continues to stew to this day. They wanted justice for upcoming generations and not pills with horse piss.
Jocasta took a moment to consider Helen’s words, then it dawned on her.
‘Ooh, that, the physician I sought out said that it was the Gods’ punishment for giving birth to Oedipus’ children.’
A hushed silence conquered the studio—the accusation a severe one. Yet, it did sound like something the Gods could have done—punishing humans was kind of what they did, wasn’t it? Of course, there was no proof to support such an accusation, and the responsible God/Goddess was unlikely to step forward. Not with the ongoing petition, requesting permission be given to wronged mortals and liminal beings to sue Gods and Goddesses before the High Court of Themis—Themis was only seeing cases presented against mortals and liminal beings.
‘That’s just rich, isn’t it!’ Aello cut in. ‘First, you get tricked into marrying the guy, then you get punished for it. Just typical. Pheme, if you’re watching—this is a story you should dig into!’
‘I guess, I learned to live with it. I didn’t know any better, none of us did,’ Jocasta paused. ‘But there was a thing I did learn. Vivienne, once your uterus starts drying out, you should avoid eating any spicy food,’ she threw a reproachful look at the chillies the Amazon was cutting with gusto, recalling the hot flushes she had suffered from. ‘Listen to your body, don’t stress and if you’re unsure and need help I suppose you can talk to a physician—I’ve been told that modern physicians are supposed to be a lot better at dealing with this.’
‘Pass the salt, please,’ requested the Amazonian. ‘Thank you, Aello—if you ask me Vivienne you should face this menopause like an Amazon faces an opponent, with your head high and parrying anything that is thrown at you, without the help of the manly gender. You’ll have beaten the red monster that always caused me great agony already. I do not doubt that you will make the menopause regret the decision to besiege your body.’
‘Ahem, I don’t think that’s really how it works, well, not for everyone,’ Celaeno spoke up. ‘I,’ she stopped, hesitating. ‘I found my menopause a welcome change. No more period flu, cramps, or the fear of getting pregnant. So if a God is responsible, I’d say that it’s one of the kindest things they’ve ever done for us. Vivienne, most symptoms, if you end up having any, can be helped. So, all I’d say is, don’t fret and enjoy your freedom.’
‘Celi—I didn’t know.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us.’
Both Aello and Ocypete started, genuinely taken aback at their sister’s disclosure.
‘It’s not something we talk about—but in hindsight, perhaps we should. After all, what’s the point of this show if we can’t even talk and help each other? Therefore, from the bottom of my heart. Aello, I’m sorry that you’ve been struggling with the changes your body has been going through. I want you to know that I’m here if you need me.’
‘Thank you, sis, that means a lot—so, are your talons implants?’
‘They are not, if you really must know—guess I got lucky with those genes. Don’t pout—you got the best feathers out of the three of us. Ah, a new question. Paul from Indiana wants to know if menopause can cause asexuality since his fiancé is losing interest in doing it … Ocypete, I think this one is for you.’
‘That old fucking chestnut. Right, listen, Paul. Cut your fiancé some slack. Not wanting to jump in the sack with you does not mean that she’s not experiencing sexual attraction for you—asexuality is not something you just get, it’s not a symptom or side effect.’ Asexuality was a topic that Ocypete took to heart, having only learned a couple of years ago that she was at home in the aromantic spectrum and that there was nothing wrong with her. ‘Have a drink with her, talk. That’s my advice.’
*
‘To be able to age is an honour! (…) The elderly of my tribe were envied. They had lived through battles and childbirth—experienced glory, lust and continued to do so until it was their time to go. Living to have grey hair was a dream of mine.’
*
Tartarus’ Kitchen was nearing its end and the sisters were flitting between selecting questions from the audience members and home viewers—there was a red thread of age waving its way through the show and tightening its hold. Concerns about grey hair at age 25; hair loss; wrinkles; weight gain; sexual pleasure and general aches were raised.
‘I don’t understand—why is everyone afraid of ageing,’ asked their Amazon. ‘To be able to age is an honour! Grey hair symbolises life experience—it’s nothing to be ashamed of. The elderly of my tribe were envied. They had lived through battles and childbirth—experienced glory, lust and continued to do so until it was their time to go. Living to have grey hair was a dream of mine.’
‘I know, right!’ Helen cried out, whilst pouring salt.
‘That’s too much salt! Are you trying to make us all sick?’ Jocasta remarked after tasting from Helen’s Coq au Vin, which appeared to be an attempt at following in Anne Boleyn’s food steps, whose cooking similarly left much to be desired.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Helen wiped her brow. ‘Any suggestions?’ She turned towards the audience, who were not paying too much attention to the cooking at this point. It was time for the next set of guests to be announced, and shortly after that, the lucky folk in the audience would be able to get their photos and autographs.
‘As always, it’s been a pleasure,’ Ocypete addressed the camera, ‘but it looks like we are nearing the end of this week’s episode. Don’t fret, as always, we will continue to answer all the questions received throughout the week.’
‘We look forward to welcoming you all back next week when we will be joined by Mary Shelley, Jane Austin and Sappho!’ Aello added.
‘Exciting times ahead! And Helen, pretty sure we can still use your Coq au Vin as an offering to Zeus or Hades,’ Celaeno finished.
‘Time flies when you’re having fun. We wish you a fantastic evening, and can’t wait to welcome you back. Until next time!’ The three sisters and their guests wished their audience in unison—they had practised quite a bit to ensure the Amazon, and Jocasta got their timing right.