The Pomegranat Seeds
In a modern interpretation of the myth of Persephone, the young daughter of Demeter is kidnapped by the king of the underworld, and her mother declares that nothing will grow on Earth until her daughter is returned.
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Reviews
"Geringer captures the timeless, bittersweet atmosphere of the ancient tale. Gore’s misty, diaphanous images present the god's own world as one might imagine it in a vision or a dream; they are as seductive as the three succulent seeds with which Persephone, condemned as a consequence of eating them to three months a year in the underworld, seals her fate.” —Publisher’s Weekly
"When Demeter's young daughter, Persephone, is kidnapped by the king of the underworld, the earth goddess decrees that nothing will grow on Earth until the girl is returned to her. Laura Geringer brings a modern sensibility to her interpretation of Nathaniel Hawthorne's adaptation of the Greek myth about the origin of the seasons. In a polished and gorgeously illustrated effort . . . Geringer's smoothly written text constructs a version of the tale that is at once contemporarily relevant and solidly classic. --School Library Journal
"Laura Geringer brings a modern sensibility to her interpretation of Nathaniel Hawthorne's adaptation of the Greek myth about the origins of the seasons. She retells it as the story of a child caught between two adults who compete for her loyalty and affection. Leonid Gore's elegant and evocative paintings evoke the timeless world of myth.” —good-reads
Excerpt
Demeter was very fond of her daughter, Persephone, so fond that she never let the girl out of her sight. It was harvest time, and the good goddess was very busy taking care of the crops all over the earth. Putting a wreath of poppies on her head, she told her daughter to hurry. But Persephone did not want to hurry that morning. “Why don’t you go yourself today, Mother?” asked the girl. “I’ll stay here and play in the ocean with the sea nymphs.”
Demeter shook her head. “I need your help, Persephone,” she said. “We’ll take your pots of paint and you may put new stripes on any flower you choose. Quickly now, the sun will not wait.”
“Please, Mother,” Persephone pleaded. “I’m almost grown. Won’t you let me stay by myself this once?" Demeter sighed. She had been told many times by Zeus, king of the gods, that she protected her daughter too much. And her brother, King Hades thought she should give the girl more freedom.
“You don’t let her breathe,” he had observed during one of his rare visits. But what would he know about breathing, living as he did down in the dark underworld with the spirits of the dead? And what would he know about raising a daughter when he loved only his jewels?
“You may stay with the nymphs then, Persephone,” said Demeter. “But take care not to go wandering in the fields by yourself.” Persephone promised and, by the time her mother’s chariot had whirled out of sight, she was on the shore, calling the sea nymphs to rise out of the waves. It was not long before they showed their glistening faces and sea-green hair above the water. Sitting on a bank of soft sponge, where the surf broke over them, they made a necklace out of many-colored shells, which they hung around Persephone’s neck.
“Let me run and gather some flowers,” said Persephone, “and I’ll make you a wreath as pretty as this necklace." So Persephone left her friends and ran to the place where, only the day before, she had seen flowers. But they were now a little past full bloom so, not thinking of her promise to her mother, she wandered far into the fields. She filled her apron with violets, roses, hyacinths and pinks and was turning back when she noticed a large bush covered with blood-red berries. Laying down her flowers, Persephone seized the shrub and pulled, but the soil stayed firm. Again, the girl pulled with all her might. This time, the earth stirred. There was a rumbling right beneath her feet. She gave one last grand tug. Up came the bush, which moment by moment seemed to be growing larger! Persephone staggered back, gazing into the deep hole it had left in the ground. It seemed to have no bottom. Again, Persephone heard a rumbling which grew louder and nearer. It sounded like the tramp of hooves and the rattle of wheels. Too frightened to run, Persephone saw a team of four black horses snorting smoke. Tossing their black manes, they leaped out of the pit, pulling a splendid golden chariot. And in the chariot, sat a man in black armor wearing a crown studded with diamonds. He beckoned to Persephone.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said with a smile. “Do you remember me? I’m your uncle Hades. Come! Ride a little way with me…”
Author’s Note
I was drawn to this Greek myth because it celebrates the strength and determination of a mother who carries the torch for her child, as well as the resourcefulness of the child. My retelling is inspired by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Pomegranate Seeds, published in Tanglewood Tales in 1853. In that version, Hades is representative of life’s darker side but he is not evil. My Persephone is a more modern and outspoken girl than Hawthorne’s. And like a present-day working mother, Demeter, though conflicted about leaving her daughter, must tend to her job. From other sources, I added the lizard boy. He is disrespectful to a goddess, but does not deserve to die. I let him exact his own childish revenge so that Demeter’s act of cruelty does not go unpunished. I think Hawthorne would have approved of my bringing his tale into the present day. As noted in his preface, “these immortal fables…are legitimate subjects for every age to clothe with its …manners and sentiment and to imbue with its own morality.” —LGB