Book Review & Recommendation: Circe (Madeline Miller)

Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.

Bringing to you the highly recommended novel Circe by Madeline Miller with a book review written by shl! If you love mythology, complex heroines, and a generous serving of fantasy, this is for you!

Note: Review is NOT spoiler-free!

Image result for Circe Madeline Miller

Title: Circe
Author: Madeline Miller
Series: None
Rating: ★★★★★
Re-readability: 4/5
Synopsis: Circe is a re-telling of the story of Circe, the sorceress in Greek mythology who lived in solitary confinement on the island of Aiaia (Aeaea), and was well known for being able to transform people who offended her into wild beasts, with the help of her potions and vast knowledge of herbs. Notable mention is made of her turning Odysseus’s crew into swine. (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Circe)

Miller retains her family background – daughter of Helios and Perse, granddaughter of Oceanus, sister to Aeetes (keeper of the golden fleece), Perses, and Pasiphae (wife of King Minos and mother of the Minotaur), and her connection with Odysseus, but she weaves other stories from Greek mythology with the thread of Circe’s life and makes it an entirely believable and enthralling cloth.

Review/ Thoughts:

From the first, Circe is presented as someone who seeks to understand herself and her place in her world. In many ways, the novel is a ‘coming of age’ story as she seeks and gains understanding. She is shown to be different from the callous Titans, Olympians and other immortals or demigods who throng her daily life from early on because she looks and sounds different – she is not beautiful, nor does her voice sound majestic and alluring, and no one notices her. Again, the difference is shown when she witnesses Prometheus being punished in her father’s halls. Going to speak with him when no one notices, he tells her,

Not every god need be the same.

Like Prometheus, Circe cares about mortals, and – it was inevitable – she falls in love with one, Glaucos, a sailor. She uses a magical flower to transform him to a god (her first sorcery, as it were) so she can live with him forever, but, once immortal, he passes over her plain looks and falls for the seductive Scylla. Hurt and jealous, Circe transforms Scylla into the monster she becomes (Scylla and Charydbis ring a bell, anyone?), and all hell breaks loose when she confesses her deed to her father. Revealed as a sorcerer, she is exiled to Aiaia.

There, she learns by will and hard work to use the herbs at her disposal, and it is there that her encounters with the rest of the world generally take place: Hermes, Medea and Jason, and, much later, Odysseus, Penelope and Telemachus. The widely known story of her turning men into wild beasts comes about as she, kind-hearted, hosts weary sailors, only to have them rape her. Thereafter, she feeds such sailors and turns them to swine, only excepting those who seem sincere. It is at this time that there is a sense of being her at loose ends. Having no anchor, as it were, she allows herself to behave as another (unfeeling) goddess would. Circe once again feels the brunt of being rejected – by her father, by her own kind, by the ones whom she would show kindness to.

When she makes a journey to Crete, to witness Pasiphae birthing a monster (the Minotaur), she encounters Daedalus and comes to a sickening realisation that many mortal lives are on her head, because of Scylla, whom she created. When she sees Scylla, she also sees that she has become a mindless monster. The guilt she feels on both counts yet again distinguishes her from the other immortals, who play with humans as if they are pawns, and don’t concern themselves with the effects on mere mortals. However, she finds that she is not alone. For example, Daedalus is similarly burdened by guilt as he made it possible for the Minotaur to be birthed and will therefore always hold himself guilty for the lives taken when it feeds. Because of their sympathetic understanding, she finds a moment of happiness with Daedalus:

But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.

Her later encounter with Odysseus brings her an idyllic happiness, a sense of rootedness, and a child, Telegonus. However, events play out as recorded in mythology (the gods get involved and she incurs the wrath of Athena), bringing Telegonus, Telemachus, and Penelope to her island home.

With each encounter, she learns more about men and about herself, about what it means to live, even with guilt. At the end, she decides to deal with her guilt by dealing with Scylla (so no more mortal lives are lost). Given a final hope of normalcy with Telemachus, she chooses to enact one last transformation spell – to make herself mortal.

I thought once that gods are the opposite of death, but I see now they are more dead than anything, for they are unchanging, and can hold nothing in their hands.

On the other hand, of herself, Circe says,

All my life, I have been moving forward, and now I am here. I have a mortal’s voice, let me have the rest.

The novel does not say if she succeeds and has the happy life with Telemachus she hopes for, but, by then, we all hope she does as well.

Miller writes so well. Her prose is lyrical, her descriptions are evocative but not overladen, and her main characters are well drawn. (I find that many modern novels lack evocative description, perhaps because they are so action-orientated.) Of course, most time is spent on Circe, and, well, the other gods and goddesses are all petty, callous and spiteful, so there isn’t much rounding out to do there! I think she did a particularly good job with the drawing of Daedalus. Odysseus, too, is brought to life well, but, then, so much has been written about him. Miller reminds me in some ways of Rosemary Sutcliffe and the richness of her prose. A melancholic strain wends its way through the novel as Circe’s longing is always made clear.

I do like the way Miler deftly inserts other stories from mythology into Circe’s story and makes it believable (although I should disclaim that my knowledge of Greek myths is limited to Roger Lancelyn Green), and I particularly applaud her inclusion of Scylla’s transformation here. In addition, Miller includes small observations and insights to add nuance to her characters.

Miller’s choice to present Circe from a first person point of view is instrumental to our understanding of her. Her struggles for understanding and resolution resonate with us as a result. Perhaps more strongly with women? It is not a limited presentation, though, as there is enough dialogue with other characters (e.g. Hermes, Pasiphae, Odysseus) for us to see how she is viewed by others. All throughout, Circe’s distaste for her immortal relatives is clear, as is her desire to figure out who she is and why she’s different, and what she wants out of life – not so different from any of us mortals.

Highly recommended.

This is an edited version of the review originally posted on liftingupmyeyes.wordpress.com