One of America's most brilliant bloggers, Molly Ivors says that: all women's romance novels are based on either Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, or Pride and Prejudice. Molly reminds me of the sexist mistake behind the famous notion that there are only two stories in all of literature: A Young Man Goes on a Journey and A Stranger Comes to Town.
Me, I was always falling madly in love with the Heathcliffs.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."