Glorious Exploits

Reviewed by Olivia Ackers

Ferdia Lennon (Macmillan Publishing Group: 2024) 

In 2024, Ferdia Lennon’s Glorious Exploits won the Waterstones Debut Fiction Prize, and it is no wonder why. The blend of dark Irish humour and Greek mythology uses a unique, almost absurd, voice in its storytelling. 

This novel depicts two unemployed potters, Lampo and Gelon, who amidst a war-torn Sicily, decide to put on a show. They aim to produce a performance offering to feed any Athenians who can recite words of Euripides, but soon, this passion project becomes larger than they anticipated, and a full-blown production of Medea is in motion. 

The first person narrative is quick-to-read and something completely unexpected from the premise. I went into this book believing it would have antiquated language but found myself laughing at the opening passage. This is something that Lennon balances well throughout the novel, the blend of the historical war-torn emotions and a breezy comedy. In this way, it feels believable that the reader is transported to Ireland through the colloquial tone, but simultaneously to Sicily in 400sBC. 

One of the main aspects to Glorious Exploits is the perseverance of people in times of war, and their coping mechanisms, often being in the form of the arts. It is something deeply entwined with the characters’ childhoods, both Gelon and Lampo have a passion for poetry. After selling their families’ goods (and getting in a lot of trouble for it) they read the first book of The Odyssey, and ‘for a while I didn’t care I was poor, or that Ma and I were alone ‘cause my da did a runner, [...] I didn’t care about anything but the words he was saying.’ (p. 78). This formative moment highlights the importance of art, not only to the characters and their friendship as this flashback determines Lampo following Gelon to the ship, but also that this is an integral plot element to the novel.

This love for the dramatics is embodied in Lyra, Lampo’s love interest (and Dismas’s slave). Her song on pages 156 to 157 emphasises the ties that Lampo feels between life and art. Lampo being the presumed mouthpiece of Lennon, he writes: ‘The voice isn’t beautiful, and at first, I’m disappointed, yet as the words tumble out, I feel a tingling on my skin because there’s a wildness to it–an uncommon thirst for life and other things.’ (p. 156) This quote elucidates that art doesn’t have to be perfect to be felt, and that most of the time, when it is the most authentic, it feels the most passionate. For, ‘It’s not the moon moving them, but the mad shepherd who’s forgotten who he is,’ represents Lampo, the unemployed potter becoming a producer because he feels the call to art when there is a time in need of it.

As for the war elements of the novel, this is demonstrated through the complexities of putting the play on in an area that despises Athenians. Through Numa’s performance of Hecuba, he is attacked by an onlooker, Biton, and alongside other performers, is killed (pp. 207-208). This devastating shift from laughter at the failures of the actors, with mocking jokes like: ‘Look, there are the Athenians, and they’re shite!’ (p.199) to full-blown violence against them eight pages later, came as a shock to me, as although the hatred of one another was clear, the Athenians being banished to the quarry in the first place was an indicator of this, but the on-page attack was sudden. 

Overall, I was surprised by this book and my almost-instant connection to the characters. The clear love for the dramatics as well as Greek Mythology and storytelling was clear, and I really liked Lennon’s original approach to this. The tone’s balance was in sustained equilibrium for the duration of the novel, and I found a ‘tingling on my skin because [...] [of the] wildness to it’. 

Ferdia Lennon will be talking to Suffolk Book League at an event on 12th February 2026.

You can buy tickets here: 

Ferdia Lennon | Suffolk Book League