Books: Things Homer Never Knew

VENUS, THE LONELY GODDESS (155 pp.) —John Erskine—Morrow ($2.75).

Whatever the ancient Greeks may have thought, life among the gods up there on Olympus wasn’t always a bowl of nectar. Take the case of Venus, or let Author Erskine take it. Her mother-in-law Juno was a suspicious, embittered shrew. Sister-in-law Minerva, an athletic type, tried to knife her as soon as her back was turned.

Venus’ husband, Vulcan, was a good guy and the god of fire besides, but he was so jealous he couldn’t stand to have her out of his sight; his idea of fun for his lovely bride was to have her hang around his forge while he pounded out odd jobs. Anyone but a god would have known that a Venus was bound to get fed up.

Animal Implications. A quarter century ago, with another cast of characters dredged out of mythology, Novelist John Erskine zoomed into bestsellerdom with The Private Life of Helen of Troy, a smooth, sophisticated novel which gave Helen & Co. the immediacy of next-door neighbors. Erskine is now 70 and a professor emeritus of Columbia University, but he appears to have lost little of the confident urbanity and slick malice that became his literary trademarks. Always gallant, his defense of his Venus is both tolerant and graceful: “Her infidelities were only apparent, they were never more than intermittent, and she always went home as soon as she could.”

Actually Erskine’s Venus had a rather exalted idea of love. She wanted it to be “creative” and became quite embarrassed when her sexy brother-in-law Mars talked about its “animal implications.” At the same time, she got a great kick out of spying on Achilles and Polyxena as they made love in a grove outside the walls of Troy. It was also true that looking at her musclebound Vulcan after he bathed made her forget supper and the problems of the world.

Dirty Looks. Venus had some right to feel dissatisfied with life on Olympus. Juno was forever quarreling with Jupiter, and whenever the conversation got lively she was apt to interrupt with, “Would you mind, all of you, finishing your soup before it’s cold?” or “Don’t forget that the domestics have their rights. They wish to remove the dishes. . .” When Venus dropped down to earth with Mars, the whole godly clan gave her dirty looks. Vulcan ran to father Jupiter like a spoiled brat crying, “I want Mars to keep his hands off her! If he doesn’t, I’ll break his neck!” Actually, Vulcan had nothing to fear from Mars. The god of war was better looking, but Vulcan had all his hair. Venus’ real weakness was not gods but men, something her mother-in-law was shrewd enough to suspect.

Nostalgia alone may endear Venus to the aging generation of readers that chuckled over Helen. But literary tastes change even if the authors of taste do not. Venus is not so clever as Helen; even if it were, the quarter century between them has probably depressed the market.