59 pages • 1 hour read
Rick RiordanA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
For the ancients, mythology and history were two ways of remembering important lessons about the world. In his Poetics, Aristotle explains that the difference between mythology and history transcends issues of meter versus prose. He argues that if the works of historian Herodotus were rendered in meter, he would still be “learning by inquiry,” which is the meaning of the Greek word historia—the origin of the English word history. Similarly, the word poetry also comes from the Greek word poiesis, which gradually came to be associated with poetry, the art of metered language, but initially referred to works of craft more broadly—weaving, songs, pottery, and others—all of which could depict mythological narratives.
The meaning of the words highlights the difference that Aristotle describes between “history,” which recounts past events, and ‘poetry,’ which conveys mythic narratives. Aristotle believes that history and mythology offer different kinds of knowledge; the first deals in factual events, while the second delves into eternal truths. He contends that both must be remembered because both convey essential knowledge; history conveys knowledge of the past, and poetry conveys knowledge of past, present, and future potential.
By drawing on Greek and Roman mythology and history alike, Riordan draws on this Aristotelian difference to develop the narrative and the various character arcs of The Burning Maze and the Trials of Apollo series as a whole. Significantly, Apollo himself is an avatar of eternal truth, for he is the god of music and poetry—the vehicles through which mythic ideas have always been conveyed, and his words at the end of the novel confirm this. By claiming that he will “be Apollo” and “remember” (419), he is not claiming that he will return to Olympus as a god. Instead, he is recognizing the eternal power of poetry (a form of memory) within the mortal world, and his declaration implies that even eternal memory cannot exist without specific people to do the remembering.
The Burning Maze also emphasizes the fact that remembering can be painful for mortals, and this dynamic is illustrated by Apollo’s initial resistance to telling his own story, mainly because it includes the humiliation of confronting his mistakes and the heartbreak of losing Jason and Crest. The pain of remembering is also evident in Apollo’s memories of having failed Helios and Herophile in the distant past. His failure to honor Helios contributed to the Titan’s evolution into a malevolent force that Medea could then harness for purposes of destruction. Similarly, his neglect Herophile contributed to the loss of her singing voice and the failure of her prophetic talents. By confronting his past memories, Apollo becomes inspired to save Herophile and release Helios, restoring balance to the natural world.
Early in the novel, when Apollo is tempted to run away rather than face Caligula, he remembers that the dryads do not have the option run away because they are “rooted, quite literally to the land in which they grew” (88). Their rootedness is a metaphor for the relationship between humans and the past. The past is the soil out of which each successive generation grows. Because they cannot escape it, they must learn how to embrace it productively, as Apollo learns to do by the end of the novel.
In the ancient Greek world, the oral performance of poetry preceded written language. Before the ancient Greeks gained the ability to preserve mythological narratives in writing, they used poetry to convey important ideas and cultural elements. Thus, poetry’s true staying power was found in its role in aiding memory before written language could do so. Furthermore, the earliest ancient Greek sources—Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey—describe epic poems being performed with the accompaniment of a lyre. Thus, the power of poetry and music converges in the figure of the god Apollo.
In support of this theme, each chapter of the novel opens with a haiku, a poetic form that originated in 13th-century Japan. Composed of 17 syllables divided into three lines in a five-seven-five pattern, the haiku is traditionally intended to convey a sense of transcendent unity. By this lofty standard, Apollo’s own haiku are quite badly composed, and Riordan imbues them with a distinct sense of the ridiculous in order to lighten the tone of the otherwise serious quest. To enhance this comedic effect, the inherent awkwardness of Apollo’s haiku is explicitly addressed in the narrative itself. For example, when Apollo attempts to appeal to the pandai by offering to teach them how to write haiku, Jason gestures in the negative, much to Apollo’s confusion. However, although Apollo’s haiku are designed to appear silly, they are also thematically connected to the chapters they introduce.
The whimsical nature of Apollo’s poems can be found in the absurdity of their modern context. For example, the haiku that opens Chapter 23 reads, “It’s a beautiful | Day in the neighborhood—Wait | Actually, it’s not” (211); the verse alludes to the opening song of the childhood television series, Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood (211). However, the allusion to Mr. Rogers also evolves during the chapter to deliver a more serious message as well. When Jason and Apollo have a private conversation about Herophile’s prophecy and Jason’s intentions, Jason takes his time to answer Apollo’s question, and Apollo compares Jason’s deliberate movements to those of the show host, Fred Rogers, who “radiated the same calm centeredness” (211). This description foreshadows Jason’s steadfast acceptance of death with calm and focus; rather than trying to escape his fate, he remains clear in his intention to save Piper and Apollo. In this context, even Apollo’s whimsical haiku gains a more serious edge, for it is clear that Apollo cannot remember the day as being beautiful because it is the day that seals Jason’s fate. Thus, the underlying message of the opening haiku channels the effect of Jason’s sacrifice.
While Apollo’s approach features poetry, the power of music is most prominently represented in Grover’s songs of opening, healing, and nature, which have the power to preserve and protect those close to him. A song of opening enables him, Apollo, and Hedge to escape the inferno in Macro’s military supply store and, later, his melodies help them to access to the maze, where Apollo and the demigods foil Medea’s plans and bring her destructive blazes to an end. Additionally, Grover’s songs of healing can help restore injured dryads and demigods, and his song of nature fuels Apollo’s resistance to Medea in the maze, inspiring Meg to join in, thereby summoning the Meliai.
The power of music and poetry to convey a sense of transcendent unity is most forcefully illustrated when Apollo and Piper encounter the many Cyclopes and mercenary guards during the search for Caligula’s shoes. In this moment, Piper begins singing Joe Walsh’s “Life of Illusion,” and the power of her performance enables her and Apollo to walk through the mass of guards untouched. As Piper pours her heart and soul into the song, its lyrics suddenly encompass the many traumas of her childhood, her conflicted emotions over her demigod status, and her lingering pain over the end of her relationship with Jason Grace. As Apollo admits, “I didn’t understand it all, but the power of her voice was undeniable” (259). Thus, although Walsh’s song does not ostensibly tell Piper’s story, it holds the essence of her origins nonetheless, and upon singing it with such force, she gains the power to captivate her audience and prevent them from harming her. In this hyperbolic fashion, Riordan uses the power of music as a crucial plot device to propel the heroes along on their quest.
In the ancient Greek narratives penned by Homer, the harmonious interconnection of the elements is recognized as being essential to the stability of the cosmos. Although Zeus is the leader of the Greek pantheon, the one who takes charge of negotiations and is tasked with ensuring cooperation, each god and goddess is essential to the productive functioning of the whole, and they must all be incentivized to fulfill their responsibilities toward one another. This model of stewardship is one in which the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
By his own admission in The Burning Maze, Apollo failed to fulfill this social contract when he was a god, for although he enjoyed the pleasures and privileges of godhood, he failed to accept the responsibilities. This failure is most prominently expressed in his memories of Helios. With regard to Helios, Apollo’s failure was one of omission. He did not actively seek to supplant the Titan, but he also did nothing to honor him. This is one of the reasons that Apollo blames himself for the current situation, for he realizes that if he had fulfilled his responsibility to Helios, Medea would never have been able to harness the Titan’s lingering anger and “desire for revenge” (167).
In Chapter 44, after Apollo and the demigods have defeated Medea, Apollo addresses Helios and acknowledges his “right to be angry” (392), and for the first time, he acknowledges the Titan’s “brilliance,” “warmth,” and “friendship with the gods and the mortals of the earth” (392). With this attempt at reconciliation, Apollo pledges that when he regains his godhood, he will ensure that Helios is honored and remembered. As he says, “I will keep your old path across the sky steady and true” (392). Finally, he reminds Helios that he was not meant “to destroy the land, but to warm it” (392). His words ultimately move Helios, whose ichor vanishes, releasing the earth from his fiery fury. With this exchange, Apollo demonstrates his newfound understanding of his own responsibility to make amends and keep promises for the good of the world around him.
For Helios, as for Jason, fulfilling his stewardship role means benefitting the whole, even if doing so requires sacrificing his own life. Destruction and creation are thus inextricably interwoven, and this dynamic is also evident in the powers wielded by Demeter, the Meliai, and Meg. As the narrative implies, the productive functioning of the natural world (of which heroes are a part) involves both death and birth, destruction and creation. Both are necessary, and each thread in the cosmic fabric—whether plant, animal, or mortal—has a role to play and a responsibility to fulfill.
Meg realizes the magnitude of her double-edged responsibility when her command to the Meliai prompts them to destroy the pandai and Incitatus. Similarly, through Jason’s sacrifice, Apollo learns to accept the difficult truth that loss and gain are interconnected. At the end of the novel, Apollo reflects on what it means to be human and concludes that it consists of “watching mortals load the body of a friend and hero into the cargo hold, knowing that he would never come back,” and it is “[s]aying goodbye to a grieving young woman […], and knowing you could never repay her” (411). Rather than prompting Apollo to long for immortality, Jason’s death inspires him to understand his responsibility as a god of poetry and music, and with these human experiences, he gains the empathy to preserve the memory of humanity’s eternal truths.
By Rick Riordan