A Journey Worth Taking: A Review of The Hymn to Dionysus by Natasha Pulley
When I heard that Natasha Pulley had a new book out, I felt a mix of trepidation and excitement. After my lukewarm responses to some of her earlier works like The Half-Life of Valery K and The Mars House, I was both hopeful for a redemption arc and hesitant about diving in. But here I am, falling to my knees in gratitude—thank you, Natasha Pulley! Your latest novel, The Hymn to Dionysus, is a journey that steals the breath and re-establishes my faith in your storytelling magic.
Pulley has established herself as a unique voice in speculative fiction, known for her intricate plots and fluid prose. This time, she returns to a historical setting, and while she seems to adhere to some familiar story formulas, The Hymn to Dionysus does something refreshingly different. The character dynamics are particularly notable. Take Phaidros, for example. He is a delightful departure from Pulley’s usual protagonists. Yes, he’s still skittish, but where previous leads have sometimes felt a bit hapless, Phaidros packs a punch—both literally and metaphorically. His character is infused with grit and complexity, making him relatable and unforgettable.
Enter Dionysus, the mysterious god of wine and revelry, who serves as the male lead. While he’s undeniably charming and gives off a warm vibe reminiscent of Pulley’s beloved Keita Mori from The Watchmaker of Filigree Street, there’s a perplexing distance to him. Perhaps it was due to the omnipresent knowledge of his divine nature, but I found that I never fully connected with him as deeply as I did with Phaidros. He felt more like a plot device than a fully fleshed-out character, hovering just out of reach.
As far as themes go, Pulley once again delivers a thought-provoking narrative, but the subtlety was sometimes lost on me. There were moments where Dionysus laid out the book’s central message in a way that felt a tad clumsy. It veered into the cheesy, breaking that delicate balance of profound insight and subtlety. Still, the overall thread of the story captivated me, especially with the unexpected plot twists that had me questioning everything I thought I knew.
On the subject of pacing, I should mention that there were sections where things slowed down considerably. The middle lagged a little, making it easy to lose track of the plot. But rest assured, by two-thirds of the way through, Pulley fanned the flames of intrigue until I was ravenous for resolution. Her trademark humor illuminated the text; Phaidros’ banter, especially his conversations with Apophis, had me chuckling at unexpected moments.
The writing style itself was compelling. Pulley employs first-person narration, which can be hit or miss for some readers. In this instance, it worked wonders, weaving an intimate connection to Phaidros’ internal struggles and humor. I was genuinely amused at several points, a pleasant surprise that made the reading experience even more enjoyable.
While I rate The Hymn to Dionysus a solid four in terms of objective quality, I’m blissfully blinded by the joy it brought me, hence the five-star rating. This book is not just for fans of Pulley; it’s for anyone who relishes a beautifully flawed narrative steeped in rich character dynamics and surprises around every turn.
In conclusion, if you’re looking for a novel that combines warmth, humor, and a touch of mythology with a slow-burning romance, dive into The Hymn to Dionysus. It may just awaken a spark in you as it did for me. I can’t wait to revisit this one—maybe I’ll appreciate it even more upon a second read!