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VERTIGO & GHOST AS A TRAUMATIC RESPONSE TO THE PATRIARCHY

Abstract:

Fiona Benson’s Vertigo and Ghost critiques patriarchal violence and its traumatic legacy through reimagined Greek myths that amplify silenced female voices. By reframing stories like Callisto’s and Leda’s, Benson exposes the normalization of sexual violence and challenges victim-blaming inherent in traditional retellings. Through visceral imagery and innovative form, she highlights trauma’s cyclical nature and explores transformation as both victimization and resistance. Connecting ancient myths to modern issues like #MeToo, Benson underscores the persistence of systemic harm while reclaiming silenced narratives and advocating for dismantling patriarchal structures.

Fiona Benson’s poetry collection Vertigo and Ghost boldly interrogates patriarchal structures through a feminist lens, exploring themes of trauma, transformation, and inherited pain. Meera Atkinson defines trauma as an ‘experience that occurs too quickly or suddenly to be processed, that alters brain function and other aspects of subjectivity’ (Atkinson, p. 5). The first half of Benson’s collection rewrites mythological sexual assaults, most of which are perpetrated by Zeus, while the second reflects on trauma’s cyclical legacy through women as mothers and daughters. Benson’s work reimagines Greek mythology to foreground the often-ignored voices of women harmed by patriarchal violence, reframing these stories to expose the systems of power that perpetuate harm. By juxtaposing the visceral imagery of sexual violence with the cyclical nature of generational trauma, Vertigo and Ghost invites readers to reconsider these myths that have long upheld patriarchal structures.

The story of Callisto in Ovid’s Metamorphoses exemplifies patriarchal storytelling, portraying Zeus’s violence as inevitable and reducing Callisto, a devotee to the goddess Diana, as an object of divine punishment. Disguised as Diana, Zeus rapes Callisto, leaving her pregnant. Diana, discovering her pregnancy, banishes her. Hera, enraged, transforms Callisto into a bear. Benson’s retelling begins with an image of dystocia: ‘Split urethra, fistula, stitched rectum. / Infant removed for its own protection’ (lines 1-2). Here, Benson does not shy away from the physical devastation caused by Zeus’s assault, emphasizing Callisto’s humanity and maternal grief. In her cave, Callisto’s fleeting moments of safety are interwoven with the anguish of her lost child, whom she refers to as a cub:

There are moments in her cave

When she almost feels safe, and sleeps to dream

Of the cub who mewed at her briefly before he was taken (lines 34-36)

Callisto’s hope and loss create a haunting juxtaposition, underscoring the cyclical nature of trauma through an uncomfortable contrast of internal emotions all at once. Benson highlights Callisto’s victimization rather than her ‘punishment,’ though she still is left suffering and distrusting. Themes of distrust recur in another character’s voice in ‘[surveillance]’: “All round me / in the heavy air/ watching, Zeus” (lines 13-15). The unease of living under the constant threat of re-victimization reflects the lingering presence of trauma. Atkinson writes about the "multiplicity of wounding" which exposes trauma through a variety ‘of hypersensitivities, [or] seemingly nonsensical reactions’ (p. 75). Even if the victims are recognized for their victimhood, there is a tragedy in their loss of safety. They didn’t deserve the abuse they faced, as Benson agrees, and yet are constantly in fear of reliving it once again. This nuanced depiction contrasts sharply with Ovid’s detached tone in Metamorphosis, where Callisto’s narrative shifts the focus from her unjust transformation to the systemic silencing of her voice and experience. Ted Hughes translates this section of the myth: ‘But favourites have to fall.’ (Hughes, ‘Callisto and Arcas’, line 18), with specific emphasis on ‘have to’. John Heath writes on Metamorphoses ‘Ovid does not wait for the story to reveal the motivations but tells us explicitly before the action begins: …an error is to blame’ (Heath, p. 239). The important note is that Ovid emphasizes the inevitability of rape and the passing of blame to status, through various stories. Benson, however, challenges this patriarchal mindset, rejecting the normalization of violence. She argues that accepting rape as inevitable for one victim perpetuates the belief that it is inevitable for all women.

Within the poem titled ‘[transformation: Nemesis]’, Benson critiques patriarchal narratives through the story of Leda and the swan. The poem is seemingly named after Nemesis- the goddess of vengeance, which invites readers to interpret Leda’s experience, after being raped by Zeus disguised as a swan, as an embodiment of trauma. Benson seems to imply that, although Leda was unable to control her circumstances, she gains power in its aftermath by reshaping her identity into Nemesis. The reading critiques the patriarchal structures that demand women endure trauma without recourse while offering an alternate version of female agency and justice where there seemingly is none.

Traditionally, W.B. Yeats’s ‘Leda and the Swan’ subtly suggests Leda’s complicity in the act portraying Zeus’s assault as inevitable. The sensual imagery—her ‘loosening thighs’ (Yeats, line 6)—insinuates desire rather than victimization, effectively minimizing Leda’s trauma. Benson rejects this portrayal, writing: ‘He was swan, I was pinned’ (line 20). This directness confronts Yeats’s romanticized portrayal, presenting Zeus’s violence without euphemism. The line ‘His shame, not mine’ (Benson, line 24) explicitly rejects the victim-blaming implication in both mythological and contemporary narratives of sexual violence. In Yeats’s version of the narrative, he writes: ‘So mastered by the brute blood of the air, / Did she put on his knowledge with his power?’ (Yeats, lines 13-14). As mythology goes, Leda and Zeus are the parents of Helen of Troy, the face that launched a thousand ships, whose very existence is blamed for causing the Trojan War. With these lines, Yeats questions whether Leda is too overpowered by her offender to realize the greatness she will create. The poem seems to revel in the sensuality of Leda, who, much like her daughter Helen, is thought of as such a sexualized being she must have somehow wanted the assault to take place. Yeats’s framing further portrays Leda as overpowered yet complicit reinforcing the patriarchal idea of women being vessels for male ambition.

One of Benson’s critiques of male patriarchy lies in her exploration of transformation as both a tool of dominance and a site of resistance. Zeus’s ability to transform- whether that be into a bull, a swan, or Diana herself- is emblematic of his unbodied power. In contrast, women’s transformations are forced upon them as a form of punishment or erasure: Callisto into a bear, Leda into a symbol of vengeance, or even Diana into an unwitting enforcer of Zeus’s violence after exiling Callisto. Transformation becomes a site of both victimization and defiance. For instance, in ‘[transformation: Nemesis]’ Leda’s assumed identity as the goddess of vengeance reclaims her narrative, offering a vision of defiance within systems designed to silence her. However, even this reclamation is fraught with ambiguity, as Zeus’s inescapable presence underscores the difficulty of achieving true liberation within patriarchal constraints. The formal structure of Benson’s poetry mirrors this tension; paralleling a race between the victim and Zeus, as her lines are far more indented, but not free from the overlapping top text describing the masculine shapeshifter. Disguise is both used for protection and used for assault, making the reader question where safety lies for women, even when equipped with the same resources and tools as their male counterparts, especially when living in a male hegemonic state.

The form is another crucial aspect of Benson’s patriarchal critique. Zeus’s speech is rendered entirely in capital letters symbolizing his domineering presence. Contrasted with the victims’ ‘gentler’ voices, as they speak (or are written) in grammatically correct sentence structure (i.e., the appropriate uses of capitalised letters). Zeus’ disregard for communicative norms reflects patriarchal dominance, while the victims’ adherence to “rules” underscores the imbalance of expectations. The visual disparity reinforces the silencing of female voices. Zeus takes up more space on the page and is bolder and brasher than all other characters. This juxtaposition of feminine voices shows the undervalued approach to such patriarchal systems and visually reinforces male dominance projected at the expense of female agency.

Benson’s reimagining of mythology serves as a powerful critique of ancient and modern systems of oppression. Her reference to Zeus’s eventual imprisonment (seen in the poem ‘[translation from the annals: Ganymede]’) draws a parallel to the conviction of Harvey Weinstein, a momentous, though incomplete, reckoning within the #MeToo movement. Weinstein’s trial followed allegations from over 80 women in Hollywood, accusing the producer of sexual assault spanning decades. Although his 2022 conviction addressed only a fraction of these accusations, it marked a significant step toward holding powerful men accountable and validating victims’ voices (Diaz). This connection invites readers to consider the broader implications of patriarchal systems that protect perpetrators while silencing victims. Benson’s portrayal of Zeus’s power—his ability to transform and dominate—mirrors the way patriarchal institutions shape-shift to evade accountability, whether through legal loopholes, cultural complicity, or the enduring stigmatization of survivors. Christopher Trinacity observes that myths have historically been used to reinforce societal anxieties and assert dominance (Trinacity, p. 497) as Ovid portrays within the literary tradition. Benson not only recognizes this tradition from ancient Greece but also draws its parallels with Yeats and Hughes, offering a critical and necessary 21st-century perspective that reclaims these narratives for the modern audience. Moreover, the collective nature of the #MeToo movement resonates deeply with the themes of Vertigo and Ghost, as Benson’s focus on trauma reflects the ways in which survivors’ voices, when shared in solidarity, can create ripples of change. The collection’s emphasis on reclaiming silenced narratives aligns with the movement’s efforts to amplify stories long buried under the weight of societal shame and fear.

Generational trauma is a recurring theme throughout the collection. Atkinson writes about a concept of transgenerational trauma that she deems “cyclical haunting”, which suggests trauma being transmitted across generations. This kind of trauma can affect individuals who are unconsciously aware of their ancestral traumatic pasts (Atkinson, p. 9). In ‘Meningitis’ Benson reflects on her grandmothers loss of a child when she writes: “And this is my inheritance. This heirloom of grief” (Benson, line 24), so that when she writes ‘the way my daughters’ fever crush me’ (line 25) the effects of this trauma are displayed on the contemporary mother. This inheritance parallels Helen of Troy’s burden as the daughter of Leda. Similarly, Callisto’s fleeting connection with her cub reflects the maternal sacrifices demanded by patriarchal systems.

In the final poem ‘Eurofighter Typhoon’ Benson connects this generational pain to contemporary fears, depicting a mother unable to shield her daughters from danger. As her daughters come to her terrified of a plane flying overhead the poet writes,

and it’s all right now I tell her again, and again,

but it’s never all right now – Christ have mercy—

my daughter in my arms can’t steady me—

always some woman is running to catch up to her children (Benson, lines 29-32)

Her children are terrified of unknown danger, and she, as a mother, feels betrayed by her inability to protect them from this fear, as well as the fears they will inevitably face as they grow older. Mirroring Callisto, the speaker finds no solace or comfort from her children, as seen in the last line. Her inability to shield her daughters from danger reflects a universal maternal anxiety amplified by patriarchal violence. She calls out to Christ for mercy, though her doubt in his compassion suggests a deeper disillusionment. The plea to Mary in the final line— ‘Mary Mother of God have mercy, mercy on us all’ (line 34)—functions as a critique of the patriarchy, implying a lack of faith in Christ as a saviour, likening his untouchable power to that of Zeus, though not his actions. Turning to Mary, the ultimate maternal figure, Benson suggests a desperate hope that divine intervention might come from the mother of God herself. This poignant plea raises questions: Is Mary more powerful than God? Can trust reside in the maternal when the paternal fails? Despite these uncertainties, a threatening presence looms over the speaker's life, reminiscent of the unnamed speaker in ‘[surveillance]’, Callisto, and the other victims of part one. The motif of pursuit—a woman always running, seeking protection but never finding it—threads throughout. Safety remains elusive, as the act of running becomes her only refuge, leaving her perpetually chased or chasing, forever unable to reach the sanctuary. Going back to the metaphorical ‘heirloom of grief,’ Benson underscores the passing of trauma not just through lived experience but societal structures that shape women’s roles as protectors yet leave them powerless against systemic harm. As Benson yearns for Mary, she yearns for maternal divine intervention that might possibly offer her salvation where paternal figures like Zeus or even Christ fail.

It is through Vertigo and Ghost that Benson can reframe ancient myths to expose and critique patriarchal violence, offering profound commentary on trauma’s enduring legacy. Her poetry dismantles the normalization of sexual violence by highlighting the humanity of its victims and presenting their stories with raw emotional depth. By contrasting the dominating presence of Zeus with the resilience and agency of his victims, Benson not only challenges oppressive structures of the past but also draws attention to their echoes in contemporary society, seen in part two of the collection, as it expands this critique by focusing on the maternal experience and the cyclical nature of trauma, emphasizing how generational grief is inherited and perpetuated. Her work stresses the necessity of reclaiming silenced voices, bridging ancient narratives with modern feminist discourse. In doing so, Benson crafts a powerful call to action: to recognize and dismantle the systemic harms that continue to shape women’s lives today.

 

Bibliography

Benson, F. (2019). Vertigo & Ghost. Random House.

Diaz, J. (2022). Where the #MeToo movement stands, 5 years after Weinstein allegations came to light. NPR. [online] 28 Oct. Available at: https://www.npr.org/2022/10/28/1131500833/me-too-harvey-weinstein-anniversary.

Heath, J. (1991). Diana’s Understanding of Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’. The Classical Journal, [online] 86(3), pp.233–243. Available at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3297428 [Accessed 12 Dec. 2024].

Hughes, T. (1997). Tales from Ovid. [online] London: Faber & Faber Poetry, an imprint of Faber & Faber. Available at: https://www.scribd.com/doc/87720236/Tales-From-Ovid [Accessed 12 Dec. 2024].

Atkinson, M. (2017). The Poetics of Transgenerational Trauma. New York Bloomsbury Publishing Plc Bloomsbury Academic.

Yeats, W.B. (2020). Leda and the Swan by William Butler Yeats | Poetry Foundation. [online] Poetry Foundation. Available at: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43292/leda-and-the-swan.

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