Book Review: Circe
Time to circle back on a book I first reading during the Great Hiatus and recently re-read in the past few months: Circe by Madeline Miller, a retelling of Greek myth focused on that mysterious witch from The Odyssey, who turns men into pigs. Surely, there is more to tell.
Circe, daughter of the sun god Helios, grows up in his court, naive and innocent, until the discovery of her witchcraft and its potency angers the gods. Exiled to an island by her father, Circe attempts to craft a fulfilling life for herself despite the meddling of the gods, her siblings, and errant visitors.
This is, in essence, Circe’s life story, told in first person and explicitly through her eyes. Like many woman and witches in myth and legend, Circe’s reputation is not a nice one; after all, she’s best known for turning men into pigs and delaying Odysseus’ return journey home. But here, Miller gives Circe the room to breathe, the room to show us the why and the how of that Circe we’re all familiar with — and then takes it beyond The Odyssey, to tell us what happens after.
As such, it is a quiet and literary sort of novel. Things happen, to be sure, as we see Circe exiled to her island, receive various visitors, even make the occasional trip herself. But every single event is viewed through Circe’s lens — what it teaches her, how it influences her, and the changes it causes to her everyday life. If you are looking for a big plot focus, this won’t be the book for you, and it will may read slowly as a result.
Where it’s power truly lies is in the reframing of how we think about the Greek gods. The Greek gods can never truly be considered kind or even nice, but we tend to view them through rose-colored glasses anyway. Miller’s Circe strips those glasses off quickly and forces us to confront the reality: the male deities holding most of the power; all the gods in it primarily for their own enjoyment, amusement or personal gain; and the terrible, terrible toll that takes on the people (and gods) who get in their way.
That includes Circe, who comes off as a victim for a solid third of the book. It’s only after she is exiled that she begins to grow into herself, to decide who and what she wants to be, and to contrast the gods against mortals and find the gods wanting. (Which is not to say there aren’t terrible mortals — that is, indeed, the whole genesis of the pig thing).
That comparison of gods vs mortals come up again and again, recurring in ways large and small over the book’s course. There is Circe herself, a minor goddess with the voice of a mortal. There are Circe’s siblings and their mortal spouses and children. There are Circe’s lovers, divine and mortal alike. It’s all a big long chain of foreshadowing, leading up to a decision Circe doesn’t even know she is making until right at the end.
And this book doesn’t just give voice to Circe. It also gives voice to other women of Greek myth who get passed over or dismissed, like Pasiphae (quoted below) and Penelope. They, too, get the chance to stand on their own as more than just “the mother of the minotaur” or “Odysseus’ poor beleaguered wife.”
I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention how enjoyable Miller’s portrayal of witchcraft is as well. Witchcraft here is work, and it is will, and it does not work unless you’re willing to put in both. Moreover, it is intuitive and influenced by the caster; Circe’s form of witchcraft is quite different from her brother’s grand gestures or her sister’s poisons. It’s also distinctly closer to the realm of mortals; the gods are unlikely to put in the effort required.
For me, the ending of this book is almost perfect — it caps off Circe’s life journey and gives her the freedom and choice to be who she wants to be, to do what she wants to do, and to count herself where she wishes to be counted. Greek myth familial relationship squidgy-ness aside, it leaves a sense of contentedness behind.
It also makes me want to read more of Miller’s work, so there’s that. Apparently she’s working on a retelling of The Tempest, my favorite Shakespeare play, so…I’ll keep my eyes peeled.
To sum, if you enjoy a more literary take on speculative fiction, or if you’re interested in seeing minor mythological characters get the space needed to tell their own stories, this one shouldn’t be skipped.
Grade: 4.25/5 stars
Memorable Quote:
““Let me tell you a truth about Helios and all the rest. They do not care if you are good. They barely care if you are wicked. The only thing that makes them listen is power. It is not enough to be an uncle’s favorite, to please some god in his bed. It is not enough even to be beautiful, for when you go to them, and kneel and say, ‘I have been good, will you help me?’ they wrinkle their brows. Oh, sweetheart, it cannot be done. Oh, darling, you must learn to live with it. And have you asked Helios? You know I do nothing without his word.”
She spat upon the floor.
”They take what they want, and in return they give you only your own shackles. A thousand times I saw you squashed. I squashed you myself. And every time, I thought, that is it, she is done, she will cry herself into a stone, into some croaking bird, she will leave us and good riddance. Yet always you came back the next day. They were all surprised when you showed yourself a witch, but I knew it long ago. Despite your wet-mouse weeping, I saw how you would not be ground into the earth. You loathed them as I did. I think it is where our power comes from.””
