Burton pitches a female counterpart to the “Hero’s Journey” story structure in this craft book and writer’s guide.

The author, a writer and speaker, was deep into writing his first novel, Far Away Bird (2020), when he noticed a problem. He’d long relied on the “Hero’s Journey” structure coined by mythologist Joseph Campbell, who famously used a theory of primordial archetypes to identify a “universal” story pattern of a central hero leaving home and crossing a threshold into an unknown world to defeat evil. Burton found that in many woman-led stories, protagonists didn’t leave their home or “native culture” to confront conflict, but rather moved deeper into it, uncovering its labyrinthine secrets. From this key difference, Burton argues, an entirely different story structure unfolds, one that “exists now, has always existed, and will continue to exist for as long as there’s still a heroine to write about.” This “heroine,” while generally female, can be any protagonist whose story follows this “inward” journey. Burton guides us through what he has identified as key “heroine” archetypes, presented not as inviolable, linear story beats, but in the more “intuitive” form of overturned tarot cards, creating “a loose story structure for your imagination and creativity.” The archetypes, including figures like the charming but villainous Masked Minotaur and story beats such as the Captivity Bargain, are grouped under three linear acts: Orientation (Immersion), Exploration (Self-Realization), and Permutation (Rearrangement). Each chapter ends with a deft, bullet-pointed summary of the archetype and its function in the “Heroine’s Labyrinth,” as well as a series of writing exercises encouraging the reader to identify the archetypes for themselves in popular movies and TV shows (The Hunger Games series, Moana, and Ex Machina feature prominently). A final rundown of popular genres from horror to memoir notes which “Heroine’s Labyrinth” archetypes may be more or less prominent within them.

Burton’s prose is accessible, lucid, and concise without sacrificing detail: He moves quickly through the traits that make up his “Heroine’s Labyrinth,” substantiating his theories with more than 200 examples from texts, from the Bible to Barbie. The book can be useful for developing and conceptualizing structure, even for readers who don’t subscribe wholesale to archetypal theory. The book occasionally runs the risk of taking a gender-essentialist approach to its story structure. Luckily, Burton largely sidesteps this trap, noting that the “heroine” structure can apply just as easily to some stories led by men (Amadeus, The Dark Knight, and Fight Club, to name a few) and repeatedly emphasizing the first rule of the labyrinth: “Even under the most oppressive, worst-case scenarios, we must see the heroine as the sovereign being.” His work smartly illuminates the way that the same “home” that serves as comfort for Campbell’s male hero figure may be both cage and battleground for protagonists subjugated by the society they live in. The result is an incisive, highly quotable work that doubles as both applicable writing advice and sharp cultural critique.

A readable, refreshing entry in the cluttered world of writing advice.

Burton’s debut historical novel, the first in a series about the Byzantine Empress Theodora, charts her journey from destitution to the throne.

The novel opens in Constantinople in the year 512. A rebellion is brewing in the city, and 14-year-old Theodora, along with her sister, Comito, is searching for their father, a bear-keeper named Acacius. The following morning, the siblings tragically discover that he has been killed in the unrest. Magister Origen, a local judge, suggests that their mother, Maximina, marry Samuel, a candidate for the bear-keeper post, in order to keep the profession in her family. Maximina agrees to this course of action, but she puts her foot down when the magistrate also recommends that both of her daughters be sent to dance school, where they’ll learn how to entertain men as actresses—and as courtesans. Despite her mother’s protests, Theodora agrees to attend the school, declaring that she wants to be “on stage for all to see. Someone beautiful and important.” Theodora goes on to fall in love with the Hippodrome and theater life in general. This idyllic existence ends, however, when Magister Origen rapes her, and one night, she slashes him with a knife and flees for home. The magistrate then withdraws financial support for the family, and soon they face dire poverty. Their savior comes in the form of a handsome Roman officer who’s later revealed to be an important figure. He asks 19-year-old Theodora to work for him as a spy to get information from various men in power, by whatever means necessary. However, she later finds that she’s falling deeply in love with her new employer. Over the course of this novel, Burton offers an elegantly written historical tale in which he effortlessly weaves sweeping emotion and fine detail into compact sentences: “Maximina pulled her daughters in closer, forming a protective embrace. Theodora saw how the white gowns spilled down like milk upon the dark brown of the track, her mother rising above.” He also smoothly supplies accurate historical details as the story goes on, as when the aforementioned Roman officer gently corrects Theodora regarding the identity and occupation of his powerful adoptive father: “But yes, he’s Count of the Excubitors.” However, the author also sometimes offers occasional moments of physical description that can be a bit off-putting, as when he notes that “Theodora rubbed her teeth against her bottom lip.” British author Stella Duffy’s 2010 novel Theodora, which deals with the same main character, is far more brazen in its depictions of sex scenes than Burton’s is, although some readers will likely prefer the latter’s relatively genteel approach, which mostly veers away from sensationalism and focuses more on characterization. Theodora, in particular, is revealed to be a charming and strong-willed yet emotionally conflicted young woman, and she engagingly endeavors to exert her influence in a male-dominated society. The overall storyline is generally strong and compelling, and the writing is, for the most part, sharp and learned.

A well-researched rags-to-riches tale that’s told with confidence and enthusiasm.