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Delphi
A captivating debut novel about a classics professor immersed in research for a new book on a prophecy in the ancient world who confronts chilling questions about her own life just as the pandemic descends—for readers of Jenny Offill, Ottessa Moshfegh, and Sally Rooney.
Covid-19 has arrived in London, and the entire world quickly succumbs to the surreal, chaotic mundanity of screens, isolation, and the disasters big and small that have plagued recent history. As our unnamed narrator—a classics professor immersed in her studies of ancient prophecies—navigates the tightening grip of lockdown, a marriage in crisis, and a ten-year-old son who seems increasingly unreachable, she becomes obsessed with predicting the future. Shifting her focus from chiromancy (prophecy by palm reading) to zoomancy (prophecy by animal behavior) to oenomancy (prophecy by wine), she fails to notice the future creeping into the heart of her very own home, and when she finally does, the threat has already breached the gates.
Brainy and ominous, imaginative and funny, Delphi is a snapshot and a time capsule—it vividly captures our current moment and places our reality in the context of myth. Clare Pollard has delivered one of our first great pandemic novels, a mesmerizing and richly layered story about how we keep on living in a world that is ever-more uncertain and absurd.
Covid-19 has arrived in London, and the entire world quickly succumbs to the surreal, chaotic mundanity of screens, isolation, and the disasters big and small that have plagued recent history. As our unnamed narrator—a classics professor immersed in her studies of ancient prophecies—navigates the tightening grip of lockdown, a marriage in crisis, and a ten-year-old son who seems increasingly unreachable, she becomes obsessed with predicting the future. Shifting her focus from chiromancy (prophecy by palm reading) to zoomancy (prophecy by animal behavior) to oenomancy (prophecy by wine), she fails to notice the future creeping into the heart of her very own home, and when she finally does, the threat has already breached the gates.
Brainy and ominous, imaginative and funny, Delphi is a snapshot and a time capsule—it vividly captures our current moment and places our reality in the context of myth. Clare Pollard has delivered one of our first great pandemic novels, a mesmerizing and richly layered story about how we keep on living in a world that is ever-more uncertain and absurd.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published August 2, 2022
76 people are currently reading
8134 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 355 reviews
February 2, 2022
Everyone is watching America. Trump is every headline. Trump is every update. Washington is Delphi, and we wait to hear our future. They call it Omphalus Syndrome: the belief that a place of geopolitical power is the most important place in the world.
On one level, this is the story of 2020: through the female narrator's present tense, journal-alike writings we relive life in London (and other places?) from the first emergence of the virus through lockdown, gradual re-opening, the tiers, the cancellation of Christmas and the hope of vaccines alongside anti-vaxxers and covid conspiracy theorists.
It's all here: the WFH, the lack of space with couples squabbling over room to Zoom, the drinking at six to mark the putative end of the working day and us all becoming hobbyist cocktail-makers; home-schooling and delivering lectures and conference papers online with the washing drying over radiators in the background. And the outside world operating in tandem: BLM, Sarah Everard, Tory sleaze in channelling money for Test and Trace and other contracts to cronies; Trump, of course, and British government attempts to stop legitimate protests against racism, climate change and violence against women.
But on another level, this is really about chaos and human attempts to try to control the messy business of living. The narrator is a classicist researching a book on prophecy in the ancient world, and draws astute parallels between all the paraphernalia of ancient augury and our modern attempts to predict the future from astrology and tarot to political polls (the latter notoriously proven wrong in the last handful of years).
The writing is bright and smart, easy and engaging, but there's more going on here than merely a kind of contemporary Bridget Jones. It feels therapeutic to relive the recent past and process it at some distance - but this is also about how life happens moment to moment, and all we can do is live it in all its messy uncontrollability.
Many thanks to Penguin for an ARC via NetGalley.
March 18, 2023
Clare Pollard is an editor, journalist and teacher as well as an author of poems (for which she is best known), plays, non-fiction books and poetry translations (including of Ovid) and a frequent poetry prize judge. This is her debut novel.
When I saw the title of the novel I thought it was in the recent genre of feminist novelistic retellings/interpretations of Greek myths, but while there is a very strong element of Greek and Roman mythology running through the novel it also has in my view in the immediacy of its writing strong elements of Olivia Laing’s “Crudo” or (perhaps even more pertinently) Jenny Offill’s “Weather”, and in its exploration of political events as they develop there are elements of Ali Smith’s Seasonal Quartet.
It will I think be seen as one of the key examples of the relatively nascent genre of books exploring COVID not indirectly via dystopia (of which there are many excellent examples such as Hanya Yanagihara, Sequoia Nagamatsu, Emily St John Mandel, Sarah Hall ) but by direct and relatable experience (perhaps only Sarah Moss with “The Fell” has attempted this so far in literary fiction).
But over all of that, and returning to the book’s title, this is fundamentally a book which explores the way in which humans over the years have tried to reduce the feeling of chaos and entropy in their lives and societies by the arts of prophecy and prediction in all their forms.
The narrator is a 45 year old part time Classics lecturer at a London University, part time translator of novels (from German), married (to Jason – an ex-DJ who works for a Charity) and with a ten year old son Xander (who suffers from various allergies and skin conditions).
And it is set over the 2020-early 2021 period both with all of the developments of COVID in the UK (for example the initial threat of the disease, the sudden import from Italy, hoarding, masks, leaving groceries, queues in supermarket carparks, the lockdowns and Tiers, the chaos that was Christmas 2020); the common personal impacts (for example juggling WFH with two parents, Zoom-fatigue, public school home-schooling in all its disasters, excessive drinking, binge watching TV, COVID privilege guilt – the need to apologise for having a garden) and with everything playing out in public (for example the failures and scandals of PPE and Test and Trace, the murder of Sarah Everard and the failures of the Met Police, BLM, Trump in his various phases, climate change, the surprisingly UK successful vaccination programme)
The book has a distinctive structure – some 60 or so chapters, typically of say 2-3 pages but varying in length from a few lines to 5-10 pages, almost all of the chapters featuring the name of a type of prophecy. So a few examples – chosen purely at random: Rhapsodomancy: Prophecy by Poetry; Stichomancy: Prophecy by Lines Chosen at Random; Ovomancy: Prophecy by Eggs; Chresmomancy: Prophecy by the Ravings of a Madman and so on.
And the chapters – told in the present tense in an accessible but intelligent prose mix all of the above with the narrator’s developing family and interior life and with her musings on the different forms of prophecy. The later are sometimes linked to current events (Ovomancy captures grocery hoarding, Chresmomancy the shortest chapter just says “Trump is still demanding recounts, so that’s a bad sign”), often to the narrator’s life but there are two other distinct elements – her Classics inspired musings on the beliefs of the ancients (the role of the Delphi prophetess is as you would expect central here) and her own lockdown dabblings in Tarot, Psychics and i-Ching.
And just to add an additional element – the narrator draws on her translation background to discuss various concepts captured in German compound words.
The overall effect is a very distinctive book which is both easy to read and through provoking.
I probably had two main criticisms of the book both of which I think were linked to the desire to make the link to mythology.
The first was that for a book about prophecy there was no coverage of either the role of prophecy in the foundation and continuing practice of monotheistic religions (the focus here all on polytheistic religions of the Greeks and Romans and modern superstitions), or of the way in which scientfic interpretation combined with mathematical modelling has taken over most of what was for millennia thought only to be accessible by some form of prophecy. As someone involved in a church where prophecy is practiced and who belongs to a profession dedicated to modelling of future uncertainty this meant the book felt diminished. And for a book that covers climate change and is entirely centred COVID it seemed odd to exclude the role of mathematical modelling combined with climatology and epidemiology in our understanding of both issues. But I think the author was more interested in prophecies which built on methods accessed by the ancients.
And secondly for a book light on plot (no bad thing at all) what plot there was seemed slightly melodramatic to me – particularly the double drama at the book’s ending, although I think this was an attempt to bring in some mythological dramatic themes.
My thanks to Fig Tree, Penguin General UK for an ARC via NetGalley
When I saw the title of the novel I thought it was in the recent genre of feminist novelistic retellings/interpretations of Greek myths, but while there is a very strong element of Greek and Roman mythology running through the novel it also has in my view in the immediacy of its writing strong elements of Olivia Laing’s “Crudo” or (perhaps even more pertinently) Jenny Offill’s “Weather”, and in its exploration of political events as they develop there are elements of Ali Smith’s Seasonal Quartet.
It will I think be seen as one of the key examples of the relatively nascent genre of books exploring COVID not indirectly via dystopia (of which there are many excellent examples such as Hanya Yanagihara, Sequoia Nagamatsu, Emily St John Mandel, Sarah Hall ) but by direct and relatable experience (perhaps only Sarah Moss with “The Fell” has attempted this so far in literary fiction).
But over all of that, and returning to the book’s title, this is fundamentally a book which explores the way in which humans over the years have tried to reduce the feeling of chaos and entropy in their lives and societies by the arts of prophecy and prediction in all their forms.
The narrator is a 45 year old part time Classics lecturer at a London University, part time translator of novels (from German), married (to Jason – an ex-DJ who works for a Charity) and with a ten year old son Xander (who suffers from various allergies and skin conditions).
And it is set over the 2020-early 2021 period both with all of the developments of COVID in the UK (for example the initial threat of the disease, the sudden import from Italy, hoarding, masks, leaving groceries, queues in supermarket carparks, the lockdowns and Tiers, the chaos that was Christmas 2020); the common personal impacts (for example juggling WFH with two parents, Zoom-fatigue, public school home-schooling in all its disasters, excessive drinking, binge watching TV, COVID privilege guilt – the need to apologise for having a garden) and with everything playing out in public (for example the failures and scandals of PPE and Test and Trace, the murder of Sarah Everard and the failures of the Met Police, BLM, Trump in his various phases, climate change, the surprisingly UK successful vaccination programme)
The book has a distinctive structure – some 60 or so chapters, typically of say 2-3 pages but varying in length from a few lines to 5-10 pages, almost all of the chapters featuring the name of a type of prophecy. So a few examples – chosen purely at random: Rhapsodomancy: Prophecy by Poetry; Stichomancy: Prophecy by Lines Chosen at Random; Ovomancy: Prophecy by Eggs; Chresmomancy: Prophecy by the Ravings of a Madman and so on.
And the chapters – told in the present tense in an accessible but intelligent prose mix all of the above with the narrator’s developing family and interior life and with her musings on the different forms of prophecy. The later are sometimes linked to current events (Ovomancy captures grocery hoarding, Chresmomancy the shortest chapter just says “Trump is still demanding recounts, so that’s a bad sign”), often to the narrator’s life but there are two other distinct elements – her Classics inspired musings on the beliefs of the ancients (the role of the Delphi prophetess is as you would expect central here) and her own lockdown dabblings in Tarot, Psychics and i-Ching.
And just to add an additional element – the narrator draws on her translation background to discuss various concepts captured in German compound words.
The overall effect is a very distinctive book which is both easy to read and through provoking.
I probably had two main criticisms of the book both of which I think were linked to the desire to make the link to mythology.
The first was that for a book about prophecy there was no coverage of either the role of prophecy in the foundation and continuing practice of monotheistic religions (the focus here all on polytheistic religions of the Greeks and Romans and modern superstitions), or of the way in which scientfic interpretation combined with mathematical modelling has taken over most of what was for millennia thought only to be accessible by some form of prophecy. As someone involved in a church where prophecy is practiced and who belongs to a profession dedicated to modelling of future uncertainty this meant the book felt diminished. And for a book that covers climate change and is entirely centred COVID it seemed odd to exclude the role of mathematical modelling combined with climatology and epidemiology in our understanding of both issues. But I think the author was more interested in prophecies which built on methods accessed by the ancients.
And secondly for a book light on plot (no bad thing at all) what plot there was seemed slightly melodramatic to me – particularly the double drama at the book’s ending, although I think this was an attempt to bring in some mythological dramatic themes.
My thanks to Fig Tree, Penguin General UK for an ARC via NetGalley
February 28, 2022
DNF 30%
After recently taking classes to learn about Ancient Greece Divination (including the sanctuaries of Delphi, Dodona, etc.) I was super curious to pick up this book- thinking it’ll be about Ancient Greek beliefs or myth, or something along those lines. The cover also drew me in.
This, however, was nothing like that.
As mentioned, I went into this novel thinking it would be about Delphi and prophecy, and while this used Greek myths and Ancient Greek practices as metaphor, most of this was set in the last two years during the Covid-19 pandemic, which had my attention completely waning.
I couldn’t tell if this book was non-fiction or fiction, but anyway, from what I’ve read it is about a woman experiencing the pandemic (like the rest of us), but who uses Ancient Greek literature and beliefs as metaphor to compare these experiences.
The pandemic is not something I fancy reading about, especially as we’re still going through things and the experiences mirrored most humans experiences- it was not enough for me to care or draw me into the book.
Obviously, I really enjoyed the Ancient Greek references and I could understand the references. However, this was not enough to get me through this book.
Thank you to NetGalley for the Arc!
After recently taking classes to learn about Ancient Greece Divination (including the sanctuaries of Delphi, Dodona, etc.) I was super curious to pick up this book- thinking it’ll be about Ancient Greek beliefs or myth, or something along those lines. The cover also drew me in.
This, however, was nothing like that.
As mentioned, I went into this novel thinking it would be about Delphi and prophecy, and while this used Greek myths and Ancient Greek practices as metaphor, most of this was set in the last two years during the Covid-19 pandemic, which had my attention completely waning.
I couldn’t tell if this book was non-fiction or fiction, but anyway, from what I’ve read it is about a woman experiencing the pandemic (like the rest of us), but who uses Ancient Greek literature and beliefs as metaphor to compare these experiences.
The pandemic is not something I fancy reading about, especially as we’re still going through things and the experiences mirrored most humans experiences- it was not enough for me to care or draw me into the book.
Obviously, I really enjoyed the Ancient Greek references and I could understand the references. However, this was not enough to get me through this book.
Thank you to NetGalley for the Arc!
June 20, 2022
64th book of 2022.
Utterly pointless. By the end I was desperate to finish it. A lockdown novel of the worst most unimaginable qualities: recounting. This is a 200-pager recounting 2020 and the emergence of Covid-19. Pollard does nothing interesting with it. There's a lot of stuff about Greek tragedies thrown in but this does nothing for the narrative. It goes through everything, Covid-19, the different lockdowns, the tiers, the Rule of Six, Trump, the Capitol attack, the murder of Sarah Everard, everything awful that has happened over the last few years pointlessly retold through a boring narrator. Then the ending is depressing and unfruitful. Maybe I'll add some quotes to prove my attack tomorrow if I can bear to face them again. This is published next month, on the 28th of July. Thanks to the Penguin imprint Fig Tree for the advance review copy.
Utterly pointless. By the end I was desperate to finish it. A lockdown novel of the worst most unimaginable qualities: recounting. This is a 200-pager recounting 2020 and the emergence of Covid-19. Pollard does nothing interesting with it. There's a lot of stuff about Greek tragedies thrown in but this does nothing for the narrative. It goes through everything, Covid-19, the different lockdowns, the tiers, the Rule of Six, Trump, the Capitol attack, the murder of Sarah Everard, everything awful that has happened over the last few years pointlessly retold through a boring narrator. Then the ending is depressing and unfruitful. Maybe I'll add some quotes to prove my attack tomorrow if I can bear to face them again. This is published next month, on the 28th of July. Thanks to the Penguin imprint Fig Tree for the advance review copy.
June 4, 2023
3.5 stars
not quite what I expected but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
review and trigger warnings to come.
not quite what I expected but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
review and trigger warnings to come.
August 6, 2024
"Before the oracle could begin there was a ritual: priests sprinkled a goat with cool water. If it didn't shiver there would be another month's wait; if it shivered, they could proceed, sacrificing it and burning the flesh. Rising smoke signaled the oracle was open."
When my husband and I went to Greece a couple of years ago we went to Delphi. I have a great fascination with divination and spiritual powers, so I was excited to visit this ancient place of prophecies. Delphi is in a flat area with high cliffs in back of the ancient ruins. It was twilight when we arrived. Almost at once my husband pulled my arm and said, 'Look at that'. Behind us high above was a lone goat that had gotten himself on a narrow outcropping of a ledge and appeared to be stuck unable to figure a way off. For our entire visit we frequently stopped to watch the goat hoping to see it find a way out of its dilemma. We even looked for a way we might help it but it was far beyond any human help. Even today, when ever we recall our Greek trip we wonder if the goat found a way off the cliff. When I began reading this story, my husband's first question was, Is there a goat?
This is a covid novel and it seems I've read several lately. In this we see how one family weathers the pandemic in London. The narrator is the wife, a classics scholar who is writing a book about ancient prophecy and prediction. Each short chapter begins with ancient way of prophesying the future--from palm reading to cards to animal behavior, tea leaves and the more outlandish--bird formations, wine, shapes in smoke, trees, small objects, body parts, head shapes and on and on. She ties each into her own experience in shut down. Her experiences are much what we all experienced, home schooling, close quarters, drinking too much and the trials of zoom calls and working at home.
An interesting read, mostly for the information about prophecies and how the future is always just beyond what we can know or predict and often never what we expected.
When my husband and I went to Greece a couple of years ago we went to Delphi. I have a great fascination with divination and spiritual powers, so I was excited to visit this ancient place of prophecies. Delphi is in a flat area with high cliffs in back of the ancient ruins. It was twilight when we arrived. Almost at once my husband pulled my arm and said, 'Look at that'. Behind us high above was a lone goat that had gotten himself on a narrow outcropping of a ledge and appeared to be stuck unable to figure a way off. For our entire visit we frequently stopped to watch the goat hoping to see it find a way out of its dilemma. We even looked for a way we might help it but it was far beyond any human help. Even today, when ever we recall our Greek trip we wonder if the goat found a way off the cliff. When I began reading this story, my husband's first question was, Is there a goat?
This is a covid novel and it seems I've read several lately. In this we see how one family weathers the pandemic in London. The narrator is the wife, a classics scholar who is writing a book about ancient prophecy and prediction. Each short chapter begins with ancient way of prophesying the future--from palm reading to cards to animal behavior, tea leaves and the more outlandish--bird formations, wine, shapes in smoke, trees, small objects, body parts, head shapes and on and on. She ties each into her own experience in shut down. Her experiences are much what we all experienced, home schooling, close quarters, drinking too much and the trials of zoom calls and working at home.
An interesting read, mostly for the information about prophecies and how the future is always just beyond what we can know or predict and often never what we expected.
Read
March 15, 2022A woman in the midst of the Corona Virus pandemic doesn't want to know the future; everything has become too much: worrying about her son, her marriage, her husband, her job. And yet it's the future she clings to, examining each brief chapter via the lens of some sort of prediction to see whether life might improve. Pollard cleverly creates moments of the darkest déjà vu until I was swept up into a story which I was both anxious and reassured to recognise.
August 19, 2022
Pollard stream of flowing commentary was quite brilliant. She mixes classical thoughts, Greek myths and everyday life under covid with ease and intelligence.
She explores past, present and future with an emphasis on divination, all types and methods and further more examines our need for it. Why we need to know, to feel safe. Why we've replaced religion with social media with it's constant attention and instructions. Although we might complain of big brother watching us, do we secretly love having someone watching us - selfie anyone?
An ARC gently provided by author/publisher via Netgalley
She explores past, present and future with an emphasis on divination, all types and methods and further more examines our need for it. Why we need to know, to feel safe. Why we've replaced religion with social media with it's constant attention and instructions. Although we might complain of big brother watching us, do we secretly love having someone watching us - selfie anyone?
An ARC gently provided by author/publisher via Netgalley
January 16, 2023
Eine sehr interessante Idee die griechische Mythologie mit dem Leben zu verknüpfen, was sich mit Covid-19 so sehr verändert hat. Allerdings fand ich die Verbindung zwischen diesen beiden Themen schon sehr gezwungen. Es hat sich nicht natürlich angefühlt und die Balance hatte irgendwie nicht gestimmt. Die Kapitel fühlten sich sehr willkürlich an ohne Kontext oder konkrete Bindung zu den Charakteren oder zur griechischen Mythologie. Hier und da gab es passende Szenen, aber leider reicht es nicht aus, um daraus ein ganzes Buch zu schreiben.
** Dieses Buch wurde mir über NetGalley als E-Book zur Verfügung gestellt **
** Dieses Buch wurde mir über NetGalley als E-Book zur Verfügung gestellt **
September 16, 2022
Smart, tricky, and intoxicating.
This is everything I hope to write.
This is everything I hope to write.
July 10, 2022
In Delphi, we follow a middle aged classics professor in London who, in the midst of a COVID lockdown, searches for a ways to deal with feelings of anxiety, depression, and powerlessness. Pollard explores sixty-five different types of ancient prophecies (who knew there were so many?) and mingles them with the reality of the unpredictability of life during a pandemic. The short chapters helped move the story forward without becoming maudlin but also precluded the deep dive into feelings I would have liked to have seen.
Thank you to Avid Readers Press for a complimentary drc via Netgalley.
Slated for publication 8/2/22.
Thank you to Avid Readers Press for a complimentary drc via Netgalley.
Slated for publication 8/2/22.
May 29, 2022
Hmm where to start with this one..
Delphi follows the unnamed narrator, a 40 something year old classics professor teaching at a university in London. When COVID hits, she is thrown into a world of virtual isolation that strains her relationship with her family, coworkers, and herself. She turns to the study of Classic Greek prophecies while failing to notice the parallels between the stories and the world she is currently living in.
I liked the concept of the book, I think it is an interesting twist on fictional approaches to COVID. The chapters were short and each of them dealt with a different type of "prophecy" which was creative.
Other than that I really did not enjoy this. It was confusing but not in a good way.
It read like a disaffected millennial complaining how the kids these days are always on their phone. The narrator is constantly talking about how terrible and empty instagram is which...yes it is but I think we've all agreed on that by now. Aside from the comments on social media, they were not making any substantial or unique comments on the state of world.
I found it confusing because I truly could not tell if it was supposed to be fiction. While the characters were fictionalized, everything else was grounded in reality to the point where it just felt like reliving COVID. This book was more like a reiteration of things we all collectively felt through the lens of condescending, sex deprived narrator.
The narrator was unlikable but not in a way that suggests they are a product of systemic social or political issues. More like they are a vehicle for the author to complain about the world without constructively criticizing it or bringing anything new to the table.
Delphi follows the unnamed narrator, a 40 something year old classics professor teaching at a university in London. When COVID hits, she is thrown into a world of virtual isolation that strains her relationship with her family, coworkers, and herself. She turns to the study of Classic Greek prophecies while failing to notice the parallels between the stories and the world she is currently living in.
I liked the concept of the book, I think it is an interesting twist on fictional approaches to COVID. The chapters were short and each of them dealt with a different type of "prophecy" which was creative.
Other than that I really did not enjoy this. It was confusing but not in a good way.
It read like a disaffected millennial complaining how the kids these days are always on their phone. The narrator is constantly talking about how terrible and empty instagram is which...yes it is but I think we've all agreed on that by now. Aside from the comments on social media, they were not making any substantial or unique comments on the state of world.
I found it confusing because I truly could not tell if it was supposed to be fiction. While the characters were fictionalized, everything else was grounded in reality to the point where it just felt like reliving COVID. This book was more like a reiteration of things we all collectively felt through the lens of condescending, sex deprived narrator.
The narrator was unlikable but not in a way that suggests they are a product of systemic social or political issues. More like they are a vehicle for the author to complain about the world without constructively criticizing it or bringing anything new to the table.
September 26, 2022
This is a novel which views the Pandemic through the lens of the practice of divination, prophecy, and oracular future-telling of the ancient Greeks. It is smart, clever, wickedly funny at times, devastatingly tender at others, and just absolute perfection in its ruminating commentary.
December 3, 2024
Just exceptional
July 27, 2022
what a massive disappointment this was. i was incredibly excited to read this novel based on its synopsis, assuming that the narrator's study of prophecy in the greek antiquity would take center stage and provide some form of commentary on contemporary society à la classical reception. instead, delphi presents its reader with a shallow pandemic novel from a painfully privileged perspective and a disjointed collection of facts that were (quite literally) drawn from wikipedia. i don't mean this to be a malicious "gotcha" moment, because one doesn't have to be an academic or a classicist to enjoy classical subject matter and utilize it in their writing. however, when an author explicitly states in her acknowledgments that she is neither a classicist nor an academic and uses said subject matter in such an obtuse way, i really can't help but feel cheated.
i believe the author wasn't expecting her readers to cross-reference and fact-check her claims, but i think it's thoroughly embarrassing that the wording of the passages that i did, in fact, cross-reference, matches wikipedia almost completely.
here's an example:
the author writes, "according to the 'homeric hymn to apollo,' trophonius built the oracle's temple at delphi with his brother, agamedes. once finished, the oracle told the brothers to do what they wished for six days and, on the seventh, their greatest wish would be granted. on the seventh day, they were found dead"
then, the corresponding wikipedia page on trophonius goes like this: "According to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, [Trophonius] built Apollo's temple at the oracle at Delphi with Agamedes. Once finished, the oracle told the brothers to do whatsoever they wished for six days and, on the seventh, their greatest wish would be granted. They did and were found dead on the seventh day."
this is embarrassing. moreover, i can't believe that the novel's synopsis advertised delphi as a deep and profound exploration of covid lockdown when in reality such commentary is steeped in thinly veiled transphobia ("jay, who used to be a PhD student of mine. then they were a woman, but now they are non-binary"), borderline sympathy with anti-maskers and (notoriously antisemitic) conspiracy theorists, and bizarre misogyny: "[...] and i think that's how i imagine all women: buzzing with gossip, nectar-eaters, swarming, the potential to sting."
the ending was somewhat powerful, but simultaneously so choppy and underdeveloped in terms of pacing that it didn't have the intended effect on me whatsoever. the writing doesn't seem to have much to say for itself either.
also, can you believe that the author referenced her own translation of ovid in the novel? with the name attribution and everything? jesus christ.
sigh.
1 star
by the way, if you're curious about the errors in that trophonius passage, here is the only mention of the hero-daemon-demigod trophonius in the homeric hymn to apollo, translated by hugh g. evelyn white (published by the loeb classical library in 1914), lines 294 through 299: "When he had said this, Phoebus Apollo laid out all the foundations throughout, wide and very long; and upon these the sons of Erginus, Trophonius and Agamedes, dear to the deathless gods, laid a footing of stone. And the countless tribes of men built the whole temple of wrought stones, to be sung of for ever."
i believe the author wasn't expecting her readers to cross-reference and fact-check her claims, but i think it's thoroughly embarrassing that the wording of the passages that i did, in fact, cross-reference, matches wikipedia almost completely.
here's an example:
the author writes, "according to the 'homeric hymn to apollo,' trophonius built the oracle's temple at delphi with his brother, agamedes. once finished, the oracle told the brothers to do what they wished for six days and, on the seventh, their greatest wish would be granted. on the seventh day, they were found dead"
then, the corresponding wikipedia page on trophonius goes like this: "According to the Homeric Hymn to Apollo, [Trophonius] built Apollo's temple at the oracle at Delphi with Agamedes. Once finished, the oracle told the brothers to do whatsoever they wished for six days and, on the seventh, their greatest wish would be granted. They did and were found dead on the seventh day."
this is embarrassing. moreover, i can't believe that the novel's synopsis advertised delphi as a deep and profound exploration of covid lockdown when in reality such commentary is steeped in thinly veiled transphobia ("jay, who used to be a PhD student of mine. then they were a woman, but now they are non-binary"), borderline sympathy with anti-maskers and (notoriously antisemitic) conspiracy theorists, and bizarre misogyny: "[...] and i think that's how i imagine all women: buzzing with gossip, nectar-eaters, swarming, the potential to sting."
the ending was somewhat powerful, but simultaneously so choppy and underdeveloped in terms of pacing that it didn't have the intended effect on me whatsoever. the writing doesn't seem to have much to say for itself either.
also, can you believe that the author referenced her own translation of ovid in the novel? with the name attribution and everything? jesus christ.
sigh.
1 star
by the way, if you're curious about the errors in that trophonius passage, here is the only mention of the hero-daemon-demigod trophonius in the homeric hymn to apollo, translated by hugh g. evelyn white (published by the loeb classical library in 1914), lines 294 through 299: "When he had said this, Phoebus Apollo laid out all the foundations throughout, wide and very long; and upon these the sons of Erginus, Trophonius and Agamedes, dear to the deathless gods, laid a footing of stone. And the countless tribes of men built the whole temple of wrought stones, to be sung of for ever."
June 22, 2022
This book has me confused in all the best ways, it was absolute chaos -which is exactly what the author was writing about. The pandemic. Working from home, being locked up with the same people for days, weeks and months at a time with no break. Ghosts towns, supermarket brawls. The world fell into utter chaos when the pandemic hit and this book captured that beautifully. I enjoyed the references and metaphors to Ancient Greece littered throughout the book, but I was going on the assumption that it would be more of a mythological book than a book about 2020. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed it!
March 26, 2022
strong premise, mediocre execution
November 14, 2022
Delphi is an account of family life in England during 2020 and 2021, narrated by a translator-academic obsessed with prophecy in the ancient world. It has a very strong opening, which is understandably quoted in the blurb:
Each short chapter is named after some form of prophecy. As lockdown follows lockdown, the protagonist attempts to write a book on the theme while contemplating her own powers of prophecy. She shares an anxious habit of mine: the idea that if you imagine something happening enough, you make it more unlikely. In my view, detail is key to this as the only certainty in life is that it never turns out exactly how you expect. The juxtaposition of ancient prophecy and mundane details of lockdown experience (clapping for the NHS, zoom calls, queuing for supermarkets) is interesting. Pollard certainly evokes the latter vividly. From November 2020:
There is a general atmosphere of doom throughout, which is memorable yet not surprisingly rather unpleasant. I liked the theme of prophecy and found the parts concerned with that more effective than the interpersonal dynamics. I was also rather dubious about the ending. I think perhaps Delphi gets caught up in transient details (not that these aren't evoked well) rather than providing any deeper insight into the last couple of years. I found it observational rather than analytical. That's not necessarily a flaw so much as me hoping for something a little different.
I am sick of the future. Up to here with the future. I don't want anything to do with it; don't want it near me.
No one used to have to deal with this much future. I mean, the future, so far as they could imagine, would have been fairly like the past: harvest, solstice, snow, trees coming into bud. They would get older and die, but the cycle would begin again. We have to live with the rising tide of future, leaking and sopping over everything, claiming cities and sectors, until we're in the future, already - that dystopian future of surveillance, video calls, and VR headsets, and viral epidemics spread by globalisation, and the 24 news saying AI extinction event gene-modification the collapse of civilisation.
Each short chapter is named after some form of prophecy. As lockdown follows lockdown, the protagonist attempts to write a book on the theme while contemplating her own powers of prophecy. She shares an anxious habit of mine: the idea that if you imagine something happening enough, you make it more unlikely. In my view, detail is key to this as the only certainty in life is that it never turns out exactly how you expect. The juxtaposition of ancient prophecy and mundane details of lockdown experience (clapping for the NHS, zoom calls, queuing for supermarkets) is interesting. Pollard certainly evokes the latter vividly. From November 2020:
I can't even, to be honest, comprehend the numbers any more: 300 deaths a day, 400, 500. In a country of 65 million people is that utterly horrifying or nothing at all? Perhaps it's both, it feels like both.
Learning at our university goes online. Restaurants shut again, pubs, cinemas, theatres. They're all complaining, rightly - they've spent so much money making themselves covid-secure and now they are going to go bankrupt - but I can hardly register the pain of abstract businesses, at my desk at the kitchen still, microwaving my coffee for the third time, meeting after meeting, pleas for extensions, watching The Queen's Gambit. Duolingo email me a reminder to keep up my 250 day streak.
And the news just keeps coming, endless news. News is our lives now. It gives our lives a narrative, in place of individual action - news has rushed in to fill the void.
There is a general atmosphere of doom throughout, which is memorable yet not surprisingly rather unpleasant. I liked the theme of prophecy and found the parts concerned with that more effective than the interpersonal dynamics. I was also rather dubious about the ending. I think perhaps Delphi gets caught up in transient details (not that these aren't evoked well) rather than providing any deeper insight into the last couple of years. I found it observational rather than analytical. That's not necessarily a flaw so much as me hoping for something a little different.
June 6, 2022
I received an e-ARC from NetGalley.
The book focuses on our unnamed main character's life and thoughts, and very rarely on her feelings, during the pandemic, from the beginning in 2020 to some time in 2021 (if I remember correctly).
I'm very confused by this one. A lot of the chapters have a lot of info-dumping. Some don't seem to add anything to the story. But there isn't really a plot at all, the characters are not portrayed very well, and I cannot for the life of me describe one of them (not even the Main Character). It doesn't even focus on their relationships. Everything we see is through the eyes of the MC and she is oblivious to A LOT of stuff going on around her (mostly related to her son).
The writing style is not outstanding. On the first page of the book the word future is used 7 times.
There are 2 very questionable quotes, and I don't know if it's the MC thinking this way or the author, so I'm just going to leave them here:
"Is there anything worse than a man in a dressing gown? Thin hairy calves poking out. I have to spend the rest of my life with this". The MC is referring to her husband here.
During the summer of 2020 she states this about a friend "They say they haven’t left the house since March, which actually sounds to me like it’s becoming a mental health issue […]".
Also there's this one time when the MC mentioned the author while doing some research: "[…] in the poet Clare Pollard’s translation […]".
All in all, this book is not a memorable one at all, at least for me.
It is very easy to read though. If you find it easy to read about the pandemic, that is.
The book focuses on our unnamed main character's life and thoughts, and very rarely on her feelings, during the pandemic, from the beginning in 2020 to some time in 2021 (if I remember correctly).
I'm very confused by this one. A lot of the chapters have a lot of info-dumping. Some don't seem to add anything to the story. But there isn't really a plot at all, the characters are not portrayed very well, and I cannot for the life of me describe one of them (not even the Main Character). It doesn't even focus on their relationships. Everything we see is through the eyes of the MC and she is oblivious to A LOT of stuff going on around her (mostly related to her son).
The writing style is not outstanding. On the first page of the book the word future is used 7 times.
There are 2 very questionable quotes, and I don't know if it's the MC thinking this way or the author, so I'm just going to leave them here:
"Is there anything worse than a man in a dressing gown? Thin hairy calves poking out. I have to spend the rest of my life with this". The MC is referring to her husband here.
During the summer of 2020 she states this about a friend "They say they haven’t left the house since March, which actually sounds to me like it’s becoming a mental health issue […]".
Also there's this one time when the MC mentioned the author while doing some research: "[…] in the poet Clare Pollard’s translation […]".
All in all, this book is not a memorable one at all, at least for me.
It is very easy to read though. If you find it easy to read about the pandemic, that is.
June 27, 2022
In this elegant and dread-filled debut, a nameless narrator—mother, wife, academic, translator—navigates the COVID 19 pandemic. Surreal, mundane, familiar, and completely incantatory. Spot on for fans of Jenny Offill. I imagine I will read this again and again because I think it will make me feel less alone in a world that feels increasingly, impossibly absurd.
May 21, 2024
It's been a while since I've liked a recent novel so much. Poet and translator Clare Pollard speaks to us as a middle aged translator and classicist living through the UK COVID lockdowns with her husband and son. She is researching kinds of divination in the ancient world for a book. Living through a time no one quite saw coming (not even me, and I saw the 2008 financial crisis coming half a year in advance) (it was pretty obvious really), ruminating on methods of prophecy, toying with tarot and I Ching herself, the narrator is also grappling with fear, confusion, motherhood, middle age, marriage...
This book is so specific so personal it becomes universal in a way I especially like -- one that doesn't deal in the cheap first person collective of essay makers and manifesto pedlars. Parallels and divergences between the ancient, or more recent, past illuminate each other. Banal doomscrolling, the circus of Boris, Rishi, Dominic, and Priti...the loves hates and lusts and murders of Medea, Agamemnon... Forever cancelled vacation plans...
Pollard, a fine poet, proves to be a fine novelist too. We've seen fragments of this screen-scrolling viewpoint before, we've seen feminine anger feminine numbness dirtbaggery interiority emptiness fullness in other novels. Pollard is in some ways in the lineage of Woolf, Bowen, Munro, Murdoch...but it's not just that. And she's ahead of contemporary novelists like Moshfeg and Rooney. Peers are probably Claire Louise Bennett, Amina Cain.
A fantastic novel.
This book is so specific so personal it becomes universal in a way I especially like -- one that doesn't deal in the cheap first person collective of essay makers and manifesto pedlars. Parallels and divergences between the ancient, or more recent, past illuminate each other. Banal doomscrolling, the circus of Boris, Rishi, Dominic, and Priti...the loves hates and lusts and murders of Medea, Agamemnon... Forever cancelled vacation plans...
Pollard, a fine poet, proves to be a fine novelist too. We've seen fragments of this screen-scrolling viewpoint before, we've seen feminine anger feminine numbness dirtbaggery interiority emptiness fullness in other novels. Pollard is in some ways in the lineage of Woolf, Bowen, Munro, Murdoch...but it's not just that. And she's ahead of contemporary novelists like Moshfeg and Rooney. Peers are probably Claire Louise Bennett, Amina Cain.
A fantastic novel.
April 25, 2022
4.25! very quick read and one i enjoyed so much. for someone who has let covid consume them, studied classics, and had some weird other coincidental commonalities--anne carson bot, shoshana zuboff and surveillance capitalism--(though none of us are unique, everything is fated, etc.) this book really clicked for me. will return to my copy (arc paperback through work) and this review for clearer thoughts; it definitely is very strange thinking about a novel set across the pandemic and trying to separate one's experience and feelings objectively, but i do not read like that anyway for the most part
general spoilers (not really):
content warning for severe mental health/covid stuff, death, suicide, awful current events from 2019-2021
general spoilers (not really):
content warning for severe mental health/covid stuff, death, suicide, awful current events from 2019-2021
September 4, 2022
Intrigerend en enigszins verontrustend boek over vrouw die tijdens de coronalockdown grip op haar leven en dat van haar man en zoontje probeert te krijgen door zich te verdiepen in toekomstvoorspellingen in de Klassieke Oudheid.
August 23, 2024
3.75 ⭐️ - because I can see it is a good book but the style/genre isn’t my favourite, I know the problem here is me :)
— possible spoilers below —
I mean, I think maybe I’m not ready to read a book about the pandemic. Or, at least, one that involves mental health deteriorating. The part of it I didn’t like may just partly be my own refusal to look too closely back at that time.
I also can’t stand things that cover suicide. The book could’ve done without it. Well. What I really mean is I could’ve done without it. It’s stilly that I find that stuff triggering.
Anyway, back to point.
Regarding the book as a whole: I really liked parts of it and I couldn’t stand to read other parts of it and there’s a final part of it which I just thought was eh because of the narrative voice. I think it was well written, I can acknowledge that despite not being its biggest fan.
There were funny bits, horrifying bits, parts that made me cringe, parts I could relate to.
I do think it is objectively a good book, I just didn’t like it for a culmination of reasons. That’s not to say I wouldn’t recommend it to other people, because I would, it’s just eh. I don’t know quite how to feel yet.
Maybe I’ll look back on this review in years to come - having since reread the book - and laugh at myself. But thwt’s life. The books we connect with do depend on where we are in life; and that’s not to say a book you love once you wouldn’t love again, it just means that you spend your whole life evolving and naturally your taste evolves with it.
— possible spoilers below —
I mean, I think maybe I’m not ready to read a book about the pandemic. Or, at least, one that involves mental health deteriorating. The part of it I didn’t like may just partly be my own refusal to look too closely back at that time.
I also can’t stand things that cover suicide. The book could’ve done without it. Well. What I really mean is I could’ve done without it. It’s stilly that I find that stuff triggering.
Anyway, back to point.
Regarding the book as a whole: I really liked parts of it and I couldn’t stand to read other parts of it and there’s a final part of it which I just thought was eh because of the narrative voice. I think it was well written, I can acknowledge that despite not being its biggest fan.
There were funny bits, horrifying bits, parts that made me cringe, parts I could relate to.
I do think it is objectively a good book, I just didn’t like it for a culmination of reasons. That’s not to say I wouldn’t recommend it to other people, because I would, it’s just eh. I don’t know quite how to feel yet.
Maybe I’ll look back on this review in years to come - having since reread the book - and laugh at myself. But thwt’s life. The books we connect with do depend on where we are in life; and that’s not to say a book you love once you wouldn’t love again, it just means that you spend your whole life evolving and naturally your taste evolves with it.
July 28, 2022
I skimmed it until the end. I hesitate to write a review because this was not what I had expected at all. And rather than trash it based on that I'm going to pass.
July 18, 2022
I picked up Delphi thinking it was going to be one of the popular Greek myth feminist retelling stories that I like, but found a thoughtful novel about the coronavirus pandemic instead, lightly sprinkled with classical references. I was definitely not disappointed.
Delphi is a surprisingly enjoyable read that precisely captures the feeling of being trapped on an endless treadmill and wanting to break free and just make a change. It really struck a chord with this forty-something woman reader.
Thanks to the author, publisher and NetGalley for providing a review copy in exchange for honest feedback.
Delphi is a surprisingly enjoyable read that precisely captures the feeling of being trapped on an endless treadmill and wanting to break free and just make a change. It really struck a chord with this forty-something woman reader.
Thanks to the author, publisher and NetGalley for providing a review copy in exchange for honest feedback.
July 11, 2022
Delphi by Clare pollard
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ (4.5 out of 5)
Well I wasn’t expecting that ! I completely judged a book by its cover and assumed that this would be a ‘so-so’ kind of book, assuming it to probably be a historical/ mythology book but was not expecting the modern day family I discovered who are trying to control the chaotic and messy business of living through a pandemic.
It’s contemporary and I think will speak to everyone in a very real way with each reader recognising something about themselves through the characters but this is a hard book to review as I really don’t want to give away any spoilers.
The writing is bright , engaging and this is very easy to read . The perfect book for laying in the sun , glass of wine in hand and devouring every page.
September 24, 2022
explores the inner life of a middle aged classics professor in the midst of all that 2020 (and onward) had to offer. through a series of short chapters each titled after a method of prophecy, the unnamed narrator ruminates on her unfulfilling home life in lockdown, the social and political climate surrounding her, and the future. highly referential and drawing — albeit less than i expected — from ancient greek imagery and metaphor, pollard references and quotes intermittently from translations of myth.
highly reminiscent of a ghost in the throat by doireann ní ghríofa, i’d recommend this to fans of similarly nebulous novels that read more like very personal nonfiction.
unfortunately, though most of the (many) references were accessible to me, this book missed the mark for my personal tastes. it’s navel-gazey to an extent that caused me to lose interest quickly and ultimately disappointed in its lack of, well, delphi. the premise was interesting, the execution let me down.
i’d also advise checking trigger warnings for this one before starting as i was caught off guard by the direction it went in the last few pages especially.
highly reminiscent of a ghost in the throat by doireann ní ghríofa, i’d recommend this to fans of similarly nebulous novels that read more like very personal nonfiction.
unfortunately, though most of the (many) references were accessible to me, this book missed the mark for my personal tastes. it’s navel-gazey to an extent that caused me to lose interest quickly and ultimately disappointed in its lack of, well, delphi. the premise was interesting, the execution let me down.
i’d also advise checking trigger warnings for this one before starting as i was caught off guard by the direction it went in the last few pages especially.
May 26, 2023
Delphi. Door: Clare Pollard.
Delphi is geen hervertelling van een Griekse mythe, al doen de titel en de cover je dat vermoeden. Ik zag al dat de nieuwe oorspronkelijke (Engelse) versie een andere cover kreeg, om de kans op verwarring kleiner te maken.
Het is het verhaal van een vrouw van middelbare leeftijd die een boek over voorspellingen in de Griekse oudheid probeert te schrijven (denk aan: ovomantie, tarotmantie, theiamanie,…) terwijl ze daarnaast online les moet geven, een oogje op het online schoolwerk van haar tienjarige zoon moet houden én gek wordt van haar man die stiekem coke snuift en Candy Crush speelt.
Het is 2020 en we sukkelen van lockdown naar lockdown. Een tijd die in mijn geheugen (gelukkig) al een beetje weggedeemsterd is. Was, moet ik zeggen. Pollard haalt het beklemmende, zwaarmoedige, frustrerende gevoel van toen helemaal terug boven. En hoewel het een donker boek is, vol negativiteit, voelt het lezen ervan nooit echt zwaar. Pollards pen is vlot, haar toon bijwijlen sarcastisch humoristisch en haar hoofdpersoon verovert in al haar onvolmaaktheid - en daarom des te herkenbaarder - in een mum van tijd je hart.
Je kijkt door haar ogen, je leeft in haar huis, wordt onderdeel van haar gezin. Door de korte hoofdstukken (die allemaal als titel een soort van profetie hebben) vlieg je door dit boek heen. Het is Pollard’s eerste roman, na 5 dichtbundels te hebben geschreven (die ik nu ook wil lezen). Ik kan niet wachten tot haar volgende verhaal. Fan!
Delphi is geen hervertelling van een Griekse mythe, al doen de titel en de cover je dat vermoeden. Ik zag al dat de nieuwe oorspronkelijke (Engelse) versie een andere cover kreeg, om de kans op verwarring kleiner te maken.
Het is het verhaal van een vrouw van middelbare leeftijd die een boek over voorspellingen in de Griekse oudheid probeert te schrijven (denk aan: ovomantie, tarotmantie, theiamanie,…) terwijl ze daarnaast online les moet geven, een oogje op het online schoolwerk van haar tienjarige zoon moet houden én gek wordt van haar man die stiekem coke snuift en Candy Crush speelt.
Het is 2020 en we sukkelen van lockdown naar lockdown. Een tijd die in mijn geheugen (gelukkig) al een beetje weggedeemsterd is. Was, moet ik zeggen. Pollard haalt het beklemmende, zwaarmoedige, frustrerende gevoel van toen helemaal terug boven. En hoewel het een donker boek is, vol negativiteit, voelt het lezen ervan nooit echt zwaar. Pollards pen is vlot, haar toon bijwijlen sarcastisch humoristisch en haar hoofdpersoon verovert in al haar onvolmaaktheid - en daarom des te herkenbaarder - in een mum van tijd je hart.
Je kijkt door haar ogen, je leeft in haar huis, wordt onderdeel van haar gezin. Door de korte hoofdstukken (die allemaal als titel een soort van profetie hebben) vlieg je door dit boek heen. Het is Pollard’s eerste roman, na 5 dichtbundels te hebben geschreven (die ik nu ook wil lezen). Ik kan niet wachten tot haar volgende verhaal. Fan!
September 20, 2022
Very funny, astute, relatable, a little raunchy from time to time, dark, and timely. It is best read bearing in mind what Clare Pollard says in the Acknowledgements: « I am not a classicist or an academic…. The book is not a description of my own family or our lockdown… ». I have a habit of conflating an author and a main character, but in this case recognizing the difference only enhances the work of imagination that is couched in so much that is all too real. Highly recommended.
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