Demigods and Monsters (12 page)

Freedom of choice is something we usually take for granted—until we look a little more closely at what it, and free will, really means. At first glance it means you can decide to take this road or that; you can do your homework or not; if you're Percy, you can decide to search for Zeus' lightning bolt or not.

But as it turns out, the whole idea of freedom of choice and free will is one of those things that philosophers have pondered probably since the first cave men gathered around the campfire and began to chew over life's important questions—the kind of questions with no definite answer, like what came first, the chicken or the egg? No one really knows.

Do we have the ability to choose our direction in life or does fate or destiny choose our path for us? The answer is both. We almost always have a choice about what we do, but at the same time we are usually making that choice in a situation that we have no power to change.

The idea of being free to choose what happens to you sure seems simple enough. You choose to do your homework, or to play
a video game. But if you're a student, do you really have a choice? In one sense you do. You can choose to skip your homework assignment. But if you do choose not to finish that book report due at 9 A.M. tomorrow, you still have to deal with the consequences, those consequences—be they detention or a bad grade—limit your freedom of choice. You definitely have no choice about being a student going to school—your age and your circumstance are not under your control.

So the situation we are put in—like being in school or being born a half-blood—is something we generally have no ability to change. How we deal with that situation—that's another story.

Throughout the Percy Jackson series, time and again, Percy finds himself in dire straits (mostly) not of his own choosing. It's how he chooses to deal with it that makes his story a real page-turner.

Percy didn't choose to be a half-blood. But he does choose to go on all those quests that keep almost getting him killed, right? Take the quest to retrieve Zeus' lightning bolt: He could have said no. Or could he? Part of the reason he went was to see his mother again; could he really have chosen not to go, given who he is?

Another question: Sally's “death” at the hand of the Minotaur on the outskirts of Camp Half-Blood
seems
unavoidable while it's happening, but I wonder, was it really?

There are two ways of looking at Sally's (apparent) death. There were two possible outcomes to the standoff with the Minotaur: Either Sally would survive and Percy would die, or Sally would die so Percy would live. You could say she chose to sacrifice herself for Percy of her own free will. On the other hand, perhaps the gods put her in that very situation where she would be
forced
to make that choice, a situation where she
had
no choice but to act as any mother would, and sacrifice her own life to save her son's. When you look at it that way, the gods may have been using a mother's love to propel Percy into a situation where he was forced to go on a quest and do their bidding.

But why would the gods even bother to lure Percy into their world and make him their own go-to guy?

The gods have a problem. As Chiron tells us, they can't cross certain borders or trespass on each other's realms; heroes, however, can go wherever they want. So when the gods' squabbles lead them into other gods' territories, they need heroes to do their dirty work. Heroes are made weapons of the gods, vehicles through which the gods wreak their vengeance. Keeping that in mind, it makes sense that the gods would throw Percy and his mother into a no-win situation if they thought it would motivate Percy to help them out.

So the gods saved Sally at the last moment in order to motivate Percy, whose love and loyalty to those closest to him underscore almost every crucial decision he makes—whether it be brilliant or disastrous. Does Percy have a choice when it comes to what Athena tells him is his fatal flaw—personal loyalty? All of us have flaws, though maybe all aren't exactly fatal. Fear, pride, over-optimism, jealousy, greed, a too-trusting heart—these are all flaws I know I've glimpsed some in family and friends. (As for myself, I'll take the Fifth.) The problem is these flaws limit the range of choices we can make, and so the gods can use them to manipulate us.

When it comes to flaws, the Greek gods themselves seem to be full of them. Unlike the Egyptians or Babylonians, “the ancient Greeks made the gods in their own image,” Edith Hamilton tells us. And since these gods were supposed to resemble mortal everyday Greeks, gods are far from perfect. In fact they often behave like noisy, sometimes nasty, mortal neighbors.

If Mr. Greek Everyman and his wife had a particularly loud marital spat, they'd shout accusations and threats at each other. Maybe the guy was as capable of domestic abuse as Percy's creepy stepdad, Gabe. Gods made in the image of the guy-next-door mirrored the
same set of seriously bad but woefully familiar very
human
behaviors. Except if Hera caught Zeus on a date with his latest fling and hurled threats at him, he could choose to hurl his thunderbolt back, or remind her of how he punished her once by dangling her upside down in the clouds. Same spat, but on a mega-scale.

Though the Greek gods were basically souped-up versions of Ancient Greek mortals themselves—warts and all—those warts generally were on their characters and souls, NOT on their faces. The Greeks saw their gods as
more
—not only more violent or vengeful, but also more beautiful or brave or fierce or powerful versions of themselves. They always gave them physical, and sometimes psychological, qualities which they admired and to which they could also aspire. The gods were not there just to entertain and instruct through bad tabloid-worthy antics but to inspire their devotees to reflect the occasional divine goodness in their own mortal lives.

One of the “better” qualities of the Greek gods was their extraordinary physical beauty. This should not surprise us—after all, everyone loves looking at a pretty face. However, as much as (if not more than) our own modern Hollywood-inspired culture, the Ancient Greeks valued a beauty crafted from ideals of physical human perfection.

Whereas divinities of other ancient cultures are often depicted as fantastic semi-monstrous figures made up of creative assemblages of animal parts, the Greek gods were depicted as extremely beautiful (in the case of the goddesses) or well-toned and muscular (in the case of gods). I bet they would have laughed the goddess of wisdom out of town if she'd looked more like a goddess of another, perhaps earlier, culture. Imagine their reaction if, instead of the elegant, self-possessed Athena, wisdom manifested itself as a cross between a crocodile and a koala bear. (I know—there were no koala bears anywhere near Greece. Still, it's an interesting combo!)

If you tried to imagine a super-hyped version of you now, in the twenty-first century, you'd probably picture a supermodel or pop
star or big-screen hunk. Today we expect our own small- or big-screen “gods” and “goddesses” to reflect our current standards of beauty. Perfect features, glowing tresses, complexions to die for, and physiques that are—well, let's just say they are generally the source of elite personal trainers' fame and fortune. We call these stars “screen idols” and even talk about
worshipping
them.

It's not too often, unfortunately, that our own subjects of worship are good behavior models, either (except maybe the stars, starlets, and rock musicians who lend their names, efforts, and finances to support and publicize worthy national and international causes). But there are moments at least when the gods of Riordan's series act in ways that should inspire us. Like the Ancient Greeks we joke and giggle and sneer at some of the immoral and outrageous actions they take in Percy Jackson and the Olympians, but we also find ourselves surprised at the gods' better qualities. Who would have believed after Dionysus' consistently negative attitude toward Percy that the god would come to our hero's aid and actually save him by destroying the Manticore in
The Titan's Curse
?

Also, in spite of his conflicted reactions to having Percy as a half-human son, Poseidon frequently helps our hero: He stirs up the ocean waters several times during Percy's adventures, saving Percy from certain death. When he begs his father for help, though Percy is never sure Poseidon will come through, he usually gives it.

Toward the end of
The Lightning Thief
we are given two glimpses of gods not just helping mortals, but being genuine good guys. Poseidon takes Percy aside on Mount Olympus and with a “fiery pride in his eyes” tells Percy outright that he's done well. A few pages earlier, all-powerful Zeus softens his attitude toward Percy, thanks him, and spares his life—with conditions, of course.

So even if those Ancient Greeks and their gods could be as mean-spirited, bullying, or prideful as anyone we know today, they could also be as kind, loving, joyful, forgiving, and compassionate. When we read stories from
The Iliad
and
The Odyssey
and re-read
the Greek myths, we find ourselves recognizing the good and bad qualities possessed by gods, demigods, and heroes alike. Their flaws are not mysterious but disturbingly familiar. We sometimes feel as if by looking at their exploits we are looking into a mirror, and when we do, a hazy distorted version of our own selves looks right back at us.

Because, as we learn from reading myths, the qualities, good and bad, possessed by the gods are part of our own nature. We may share their flaws, but we also partake of their amazing powers and goodness.

Indeed, the gods are always among us, whether we are in the world of Percy Jackson and the Olympians or not. And those gods are not just hovering over, eavesdropping on, or wiretapping the phones of the half-blood next door. Veiled to our sight they dwell in our world and within ourselves. Thanks to them we have within us strengths (and maybe some weaknesses) we don't even suspect.

Sure, the gods often toy with us by throwing us one or more of life's wicked curve balls. But in the quirky way of those old Greek gods, they don't necessarily leave us to flounder on our own. . . . Even if they are the source of some of our troubles, they never really abandon us: Those same nosy, interfering, annoying gods are also on standby, ready to inspire us, bolster our resolve, and lend us courage, much as 9/11 emergency workers were inspired to superhuman efforts to rescue the thousands of people who escaped those Twin Towers. The news and current history tend to focus on the tragic souls who didn't survive. But due to the deep inner strength and courage of those who rushed into buildings to help, many more lives were saved than were lost. Superheroes and demigods in the guise of ordinary very brave men and women walked the city that day, and I am sure they still do.

Hendricks, Rhoda A., ed. and trans.
Classical Gods and Heroes: Myths as Told by the Ancient Authors
(New York. Morrow Quill Paperbacks, 1974).

Grant, Michael.
Myths of the Greeks and Romans
(New York and Scarborough, Ontario: New American Library, A Mentor Book, 1962).

Hamilton, Edith.
Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes,
(New York: New American Library, A mentor Book, 1942).

Elizabeth M. Rees is a visual artist as well as an author of numerous middle grade and young adult novels, including Heartbeats, her original six-book series published by Aladdin from 1998 to1999. Her latest work of fiction,
The Wedding: An Encounter with Jan van Eyck
, was published by Watson-Guptil in 2005 and was listed on the New York Public Library's Best Books for the Teen Age, 2006. She lives and works in New York City.