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FindingJane
Feb 12, 2016FindingJane rated this title 1.5 out of 5 stars
Divinity has never seemed so…boring. Poor Eros. Banished to earth among lowly mortals and forced to be one herself. The horror! That being stated, you wonder why she fell in love with one in the first place. Orion may have his faults (although it’s tough to see them; Eros seems to think he’s utter perfection in one gorgeous human package), but he’s head and shoulders above the immortals who surround him. They come off as cardboard figures, petty, cruel, sadistic, squabbling or simply flat two-dimensional ciphers. Apollo tricks his sister Artemis into killing Orion but no one reveals why he does it. Someone discloses Eros’s secret love affair with Orion but we don’t learn who spilled the beans. You get the feeling the author sees these as minor details, not worth dwelling on even if they do leave the readers clenching their teeth in frustration. On earth, Eros doesn’t fare much better. She’s either whining about losing her powers to see into human hearts, wailing or shoving herself willy nilly into human relationships. For someone who’s been observing human affairs for centuries, she’s baffling in her lack of insight, empathy, subtlety or restraint. After a while, I wasn’t wondering what she saw in Orion; I wondered what he saw in her. It doesn’t help that she’s trapped on earth with her mother Aphrodite who turns into a sullen lump, drinking herself into oblivion and then parking herself in front of the television when the booze is finished. Aphrodite proves as big a disappointment as her miserable daughter, turning herself into the equivalent of trailer trash as she neglects her hygiene and appearance as well as her offspring. It takes the intervention of—surprise!—another god to set them straight and he doesn’t make an appearance until halfway through the book. This, for me, is when events started picking up considerably. I’ll admit it. Of all the gods in the Greek pantheon, Hephaestus is my personal favorite. Unlike the other gods who mostly seem to be in charge of various demesnes (Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, Eos is goddess of the dawn, Apollo is the god of the sun, magic, healing, etc.), Hephaestus actually creates things. He forges armor, swords, Zeus’s lightning bolts, exquisite jewelry, sculpture, dishware, statuary—anything made of metal, he can make it. What’s not to like? It turns out the author’s version of Hephaestus is just as adept, not to mention jovial, likeable, happy, kind, pleasant, handsome and an all-around treat to be near—unlike the goddesses he has come to help. It would be a treat if Eros were somehow allowed to find Hephaestus a suitable romantic match. (The original myth made him the husband of Aphrodite but the book indicates no such relationship here.) The terms of Eros’s servitude indicates only that she form true love between three couples; it doesn’t state any of the couples have to be mortal. So maybe there’s a chance for Heph to find his own romance. I’d read more of this series in hope of that contingency.