A strange comparison between Greek drama and a current short story

Sometimes when I'm reading a few different literary works on and off at the same time odd juxtapositions of themes and ideas appear. On and off I've been reading the Oresteia (sp?), the Aeschylus trilogy about the tragedies of the House of Atrius (sp?). Why would I be reading this? A recent conversation among friends, several of whom have advanced degrees in lit, showed me how little I recall about the Greek epics and dramas - couldn't remember what exactly started the Trojan war and little or nothing about the fate of the combatants other than the wrath of Achilles and the travels of Ulysses. OK, so I went back to the source and have been reading Agamemnon and The Libation Bearers on and off for a few weeks, including yesterday. Plus, yesterday I picked up the 2018 O.Henry Awards collection and read the first story, the oddly title The Tomb of Wrestling, by Jo Ann Beard (I don't know anything about her other work). This story is bone-in-the-throat engaging and difficult, describing in excruciating detail how a middle-aged woman fights off a brutal attack by an intruder, told in small segments, some of which tell of her difficult upbringing and some of which tell of his, including much sadism. Very hard to take this story, impressive though it may be, and I wonder about the effect of it: Is it empowering to women, showing how through their strength and guile they can survive a battering? Or in some way, obviously not intended by Beard, does the story promote victimization, dwelling lasciviously on the gory details of the assault? Put another way: Could a man have written this story and won an award for it? That said, I found myself comparing this story with Agamemnon, which, in case you like I had forgotten, the King returns from the war on Troy to be greeted by his wife, Clytemnestra, and than, lured into the palace to relax after battle and sea voyage (cf the Odyssey) she stabs him to death while he's in the bath and anoints her long-time lover as the new king. Amazingly, compared w/ today's literary conventions, the assassination and all of the attendant gore takes place off stage; the play is made up of many lamentations, prophecies, cries of anger and vengeance - every line is great and powerful - it's like a  poem start to finish - but as a drama, well, we can see why it's seldom performed today (not counting adaptations). The power of the Aeschylus drama come in large part from its suggestion of brutality rather than its depiction: We fear and tremble at that which is hinted and suggested, more than at that which is depicted.