In Homer’s Iliad, there appears the following passage. Translation by yours truly, because if you can’t use your 7 years of ancient Greek for translating things like this, what can you use it for?
… And to their lord hastened
Golden servants like living maidens.
In them were minds and hearts, voice and strength,
And they have learned skills from the deathless gods.
They hurried around and about their master. (Iliad 18.417-421)
Why am I posting about ancient Greek lady-robots made of gold? It’s a secret—for now. Feel free to let your imaginations go wild. (Lord knows I did!)
We here at Olivia Waite are thrilled to present our third novella from Ellora’s Cave! Damned if You Do is a steamy Regency paranormal that answers two very important questions:
- Is it possible to sin when you’re already in Hell?
- How did the Devil come to get so fixated on the violin?
Also, today I’m at Sweet ‘n Sexy Divas, talking about writing an erotic romance in the afterlife—head on over and comment for a chance to win a copy of Damned if You Do!
We here at Olivia Waite did not sleep particularly well last night. (Dear dream dictionary: what does it mean when you dream that the bottom of your foot is pink and black and flaky like a grilled salmon? We are totally stumped.) As a direct result, we are a little slow of brain this morning, so writing the incisive, thoughtful blog post we wanted to write seems a bit beyond our capabilities.
The warm, sleeping puppy snoring in our lap is hardly helping matters.
So instead, here are some pretty pictures of the work of Lucio Bubacco, an Italian glass artist. I’ve never seen anything like them.
Detail from The Divine History
The Magic of Glass
Leda and the Swan
Daphne and Apollo
You know Polyphemus mostly as the cyclops blinded by Odysseus. But did you know that in some variants of the myth he was also an anguished lover of the sea nymph Galatea? Well now you do.
In Ovid’s version, Galatea is in love with a young man named Acis, who is then killed by Polyphemus in a jealous rage. So Galatea turns Acis into a river — because transforming your dead beloved into a river/tree/flower/rock is the mythological equivalent of the modern post-breakup pint of Haagen-Dazs. It’s just the thing you do, and then you move on.
However, there is a frieze found in Pompeii that suggests Polyphemus was a more successful lover than Ovid allows him to be.
The back cover copy might read:
Cursed by mankind as a monster, one-eyed Polyphemus broods on the coastline and shuns society in favor of the solace of nature. His only companions are the animals he raises for wool and food — until he meets Galatea.
The sea nymph’s beauty and warmth awaken a powerful longing. But she only has eyes for the handsome and superficial Acis. Can the rugged cyclops shed his rough habits enough to charm his beloved?