How Often Do You Think About the Riordan Empire?

Few book series have defined my generation with such outstanding popularity and longevity as “Percy Jackson and the Olympians” and the four spin-off series set in the same universe. The books follow the children of the Greek gods as they adventure across America to fight primordial evil, mixing wit and contemporary culture with antiquity in a surprisingly cohesive and delightful series of novels.

Fans of the Riordanverse — as the collection of books, supplementary materials, and fanfiction is affectionately referred to — are currently in a state of wary anticipation ahead of the December release of the new “Percy Jackson” streaming series on Disney Plus. As fans of the young adult book series, we’ve been burned before: The disloyal portrayals and downright disasters that were the movie adaptations of “The Lightning Thief” and “The Sea of Monsters” have left fans nervous about seeing the beloved series on screen again.

However, the new project seems promising, considering Riordan’s heavy involvement in both the screenplay and casting, and the attention to detail afforded by the episodic format. Furthermore, as fans have lauded, the actors cast to represent the adolescent protagonists are, unlike in the film franchise, the same age as the characters themselves.

The expansiveness of the Riordan empire is one of the most impressive parts of the author’s oeuvre. Like its source material, its imperial might is only growing — first Barnes and Noble, onwards to Gaul. From dozens of books to fanfiction, fanart, movies, an Off-Broadway musical, and now a streaming franchise, the entry points to the Percy Jackson adventures have grown more numerous than ever. You can literally live Percy Jackson if you want to — there are summer camps that bring to life the setting of the stories.

Like any good bildungsroman, the Percy Jackson books marry adventure and style to produce a fantastical yet compelling depiction of adolescence. We simultaneously empathize and relate to the main characters while desperately wishing our lives were half as exciting as theirs. Riordan knows it from the first page of the first book: Just like Percy, you wish you weren’t a demigod. Of course, this is immensely ironic — we are all just waiting for someone to tell us we are chosen and special. In weaving the classical hero’s journey through the streets of New York, Riordan leaves us with the pipe dream that maybe we, too, will be called upon by the gods.

In a genre increasingly defined by angst and the essentialization of identity, Riordan never compromises adventure, wit, and humor. Middle grade and young adult fiction does not have to be boring or uncomplicated — the creativity of the storylines and distinctive character voices win over readers of all ages.

But what is most impressive about the Percy Jackson franchise is how it has inspired a generation of readers to feel passionate about mythology and the classics. What Riordan accomplishes, to the applause of history teachers, is making the classics feel relevant and modern. He accomplishes this by capitalizing on the “realness” of these ancient myths, highlighting the fact that these deities and stories have power based not only in the authority of the writer, but in the actual prayer and belief of centuries of ancient people.

In his books, the ancient Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse gods have moved to America, because that is where their power is most consistently invoked. It only takes the barest consciousness of this fact to start seeing hints of the ancients everywhere — from the architecture of Washington D.C. — neoclassical temples, giant Egyptian-inspired obelisk, and all — and the eagle on the United States crest to ubiquitous brands like Nike or Trident gum.

The prominent influence of the ancients in our culture is evidence of a Western imperial hegemony that romanticizes ancient cultures with complicated pasts. The Percy Jackson books lean into the fact that by the time someone is old enough to read these books, they have already been exposed to some of the stories, motifs, and themes by nature of living in America. At the same time, Riordan treats this legacy with the irreverence of a teenage boy. Percy’s voice, and in later books, the cycling perspective of a myriad of different characters, is often critical of the gods and their antics.

The characters’ simultaneous parody and admiration of the antiquities lends the gods an indelible, distinctly American realness. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, is portrayed as a movie star in one of the books, while Iris, goddess of the rainbow, is the owner of a crystal and herbal remedies shop. The sea god becomes a beachcomber, and the furies of the underworld work as evil substitute teachers as a side gig. Their flaws, off-kilter jokes, and distinctive type-cast caricatures fit them into who our society gives inordinate attention to: the celebrities, the bombastic politicians, the goop gurus, and the drama queens. Out of old models are fashioned new American gods — and their power is palpable.

But the gods of Percy Jackson are imminently fallible. Though they can shake the earth, cause storms, and control the weather, it is their petty fights and obstinance that put the world in peril. Buried in Percy Jackson’s irreverence is an important message — it is our prerogative to demand better from those in power: gods, parents, and godly parents alike.

—Staff writer Serena Jampel can be reached at serena.jampel@thecrimson.com.