Mac is an epic punk. No wonder: after his dad went off to fight in the Trojan War and never came back, Mac spent his childhood evading his mom’s scumbag suitors—all one-hundred-and-eight of them. Of course, he turned out this way—a moody, friendless sixteen-year-old who blows off work, alienates everyone at school, and pulls pranks. But when he trains a flock of birds to defecate on the headmaster, Mac (short for Telemachus) goes too far. The administrators give him an ultimatum: prove that he’s truly the son of Odysseus by doing something heroic—or get out. A school story that just so happens to take place 3,000 years ago, Labors of an Epic Punk is a tale of friendship and transformation, regret and redemption, and a reminder to us all that even heroes need to survive adolescence.
No one on the field that morning had any idea that all Hades was about to break loose.
Well, one person did.
The stands were over-crammed with students, all chirping away about their summer travels, each one trying to out-fabulous the other. But Mac wasn’t talking to any of them. (No surprise there.) Instead, he just stared at the empty stage in fist-clenching anticipation. For the entire morning, the entire summer, the entire two years he’d wasted at this gods-forsaken school, he’d been waiting for this moment. His moment of glory, of genius. The moment when he’d finally and irretrievably cross The Line— that hard-to-define boundary between tolerable and intolerable. Between a week of detention and expulsion. All he needed was for Headmaster Gurgus to blow on that shell.
Just when he thought he couldn’t wait any longer without throwing up, Mac heard the band play the opening notes to “Yielding Never,” Pieridian Academy’s absurdly overblown fight song. The Opening Ceremonies were officially underway. From his seat high up in the stands, Mac watched intently as the members of the so-called Grand Procession marched onto Garthymedes Field: the entire faculty and staff, wearing shiny red gowns and smiles full of phony reverence; followed by the honored students, also in ritualistic red, condescendingly waving at the crowd; followed by a grotesque, nine-headed Hydra.
Lastly, waddling ten paces behind the Hydra, in all his roly-poly, four-hundred pound glory, was Headmaster Gurgus.
Review
Move over Percy Jackson and co. There’s a new Greek kid in town. Mac’s the name (short for Telemachus), and while he may not be the child of a god, he’s the son of a hero, which is just as tough.
When I switched my college freshman seminar from something vaguely societal-sounding and “easy” to Homer’s Epics, my counsellor looked at me like I was nuts. “Why?” she asked. My response: “Because I love Greek myth.”
In short, I also loved this book. Mac’s transformation is fantastic. His entire character makes sense, and his relationship with his mom is the most beautiful parent-child relationship I’ve read in a long time. As the book’s description says, this is a school story that just happened to take place 3000 years ago. It’s ancient but modern, serious but funny. It’s everything I remember about every “I’m not good enough” teenage feeling I ever had, times a thousand. Mac’s under the ultimate pressure. It’s bad enough living up to normal standards. He has to live up to a great war hero’s image. It’s huge, and yet, while it was times a thousand, it was all just so normal. I could relate to Mac’s situation as clearly as if it were happening today.
I love Mac’s friend’s, too. Homer (yes, that Homer) is the friend who wants Mac to succeed but also to live vicariously through Mac’s heroism. Outgoing Theo and caring drama student Calliope are twins but so distinct as characters. Their sibling relationship comes off so well, too. And Andie. Oh, Andie. She has a special place in my heart. She has just as many emotional struggles as Mac, and I loved how their situations kind of mirrored each other. I loved watching their relationship blossom and grow into something truly spectacular.
The narration flows great. The dialogue is fresh and snappy. There’s plenty of action that’s set off by slower scenes of Mac and his crew learning to be a group of friends. I saw myself in some of these characters and was able to identify with them easily.
To sum up, I could probably think of something to criticize, but I’d have to really sit here and think—maybe read the book again and search for missing commas or something. This is the high school story about Odysseus’s son I never knew I wanted. The end ties everything up, which makes me a bit sad. I want a sequel so badly.
For many years Mark, a high school English teacher, and Sheri, a freelance writer and blogger, wrote independently. No matter the writing project—newspaper articles, retreat talks, college recommendation letters, fan-fiction, blog posts on spirituality or 80s pop songs—they tended to work alone. Separate rooms, separate computers. But raising their twin sons helped them discover an important truth: All Good Things Come in Twos.
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All the opinions expressed in this review are my own. Read the full disclosure here.