Book Review: Wearing the Lion by John Wiswell

received a review copy from the publisher. This does not affect the contents of my review and all opinions are my own.

Wearing the Lion by John Wiswell

Mogsy’s Rating: 4 of 5 stars

Genre: Fantasy, Mythology

Series: Stand Alone

Publisher: DAW (June 17, 2025)

Length: 384 pages

Author Information: Website

After my first experience with John Wiswell ended up being a bust—I actually DNFed Someone You Can Build a Nest In—I wasn’t sure his style was going to work for me. But Wearing the Lion caught my attention with its Greek mythology inspiration, and I’m glad I gave it a shot because this one definitely clicked!

A reimagining of the Heracles myth, the novel follows both Heracles and Hera in alternating POV chapters. Hera, long fed up with Zeus’s endless affairs, reaches a breaking point with the birth of the infant demigod Heracles, who is yet another reminder of her husband’s philandering ways. Unable to punish Zeus the way she wants, she decides to channel her resentment toward his favored newborn son instead. However, the irony is that Heracles would grow up to become one of her most devoted followers, believing her to be the only deity worthy of his worship.

Yet Hera remains unappeased, growing increasingly agitated each time Heracles manages to survive her schemes or turn them to his advantage. Eventually, in a moment of impulsive cruelty, she goes too far. Heracles is driven temporarily mad due to her actions and, in his confusion, kills his own children. Devastated and desperate to understand why this happened to him, he sets off in search of answers and revenge, certain only that a god is responsible, though he would have never suspected his beloved goddess. Racked with guilt but unable to own up to her mistake, Hera tries to mislead him by sending him on a wild goose chase to slay a bunch of monsters. But Heracles, heartsick and unwilling to take any more lives, defies expectations and makes them his allies instead. Together, he and his team of monsters set out to uncover the truth behind what happened, even as Hera runs out of reasons and ways to take responsibility for what she has done.

Rather than simply rehashing the familiar tale of Heracles’ Labors, Wearing the Lion offers a fresh and fascinating reinterpretation of the myth, turning it on its head. Instead of embracing the violence and brute strength typically associated with the hero, this version of Heracles chooses empathy over rage, forging unexpected bonds with the very creatures he’s been sent to destroy. But the book also invests a great deal of time and attention at the beginning to help readers understand why Heracles might approach his tasks this way, using them as a path to process his overwhelming grief and guilt. The result is a story that feels both tender and subversive, bringing warmth and introspection in a way that’s often comforting, yet at times the emotional weight can also make this novel heart wrenchingly difficult to read.

Perhaps that’s why I found the amount of humor surprising—because there’s actually quite a lot of it. From the very beginning, Wearing the Lion adopts a wry, knowing tone that adds a layer of lightness to an otherwise heavy narrative. Hera’s voice is particularly sharp, sardonic, and often hilarious, especially when she directs her exasperation towards the other gods, including Zeus, whom she refers to as her “dipshit husband.” In contrast, Heracles’ POV is much more grounded and subdued, reflecting the weight of the sorrow he carries, but even then, there are moments of levity peeking through. The Nimean Lion named Purrseus, anyone?

That said, the novel wasn’t without its rough patches. I found the middle section to be the weakest, where Heracles’ spiraling grief and Hera’s ongoing guilt and denial started to feel repetitive. The plot stalled a bit during this stretch, spinning its wheels around the same topics without much forward movement. Additionally, much of the book is written in second person, which I confess is not always my cup of tea. With the dual POVs and the occasional ambiguity around which “you” the characters might be addressing, it frequently got confusing.

Even so, I admire John Wiswell’s willingness to take risks and get a little weird. Balancing grief with humor is no easy feat, but Wear the Lion somehow pulls it off with heart and creativity. Greek mythology being the crowded field it is, there’s no shortage of traditional retellings if that’s what you’re looking for. But for something quirkier and more emotionally nuanced than the usual fare, you might want to check this one out. With its emphasis on found family, compassion, and healing over conquest, it’s a refreshingly offbeat take on an old story.