CIRCE: An anthem for the silenced women in Greek mythology

Madeline Miller’s Circe treads the line between gentle and ferocious. It tells a tale about the grit and grind of womanhood and godlihood – which, perhaps, have more in common than one might think. Miller has written a sweeping reinvention of the epic, filled with stories of adventure, magic, monsters, and mortals. Where the classic epic centres around a man who seeks godliness, Circe reverses this structure to remark upon the feminine strength of a goddess who is enchanted by mortality. From a quotation that reminds me of Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, this reinvention of a traditional narrative is best described in Circe’s own words: “Beneath the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two.”

“Later, years later, I would hear a song made of our meeting. I was not surprised by the portrait of myself: the proud witch undone before the hero’s sword, kneeling and begging for mercy. Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.”

Circe is the witch daughter of the Titan Helios, god of the sun, and a constant source of disappointment for her family. After unlocking her powers and committing a heinous act in her father’s halls, Circe finds herself banished to the island of Aiaia, where she is condemned to spend the rest of her eternity. On Aiaia, Circe learns to control her occult powers, makes a home for herself amongst the creatures on her isle, and encounters figures such as the man-beast Minotaur, clever Daedalus and his son Icarus, the love struck and murderous Medea, and, of course, the great hero Odysseus.

A wonderful book and a gorgeous cover to boot.

This book is enchanting; it cast a spell upon me as I read it, enveloping me within its pages and delivering both a timely and timeless epic. It flicks through centuries with ease, telling stories that feel both enormous and personal. The prose is elegant and simplistic, suited to Circe’s character and the book’s tone, and I was invested in both the immortal problems of the gods and the vicious whims of mortals. There is no structured plot to follow in Circe – not in the traditional sense. Rather, Miller offers a portrait of growth for a minor character whose original author(s) wrote her in one dimension. This is a book about reinvention. This is a book about creating a home for oneself, and finding self-worth from within. It did take around two or three chapters for the characters and setting to grab hold of me – but once I was in, I was in. I devoured this novel within 48 hours, and it would have been less if I didn’t need to sleep.

“It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures – flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment’s carelessness. If I had ever believed it, I no longer did.”

I want to add that, in the wake of the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, this book feels like it came right on time – but it also feels like I’ve been waiting for it forever. In an interview, Miller commented on the impact of Circe’s tale on the modern social landscape, and observed that: “Witches are women who have more power than society says they should”. In a world that has so often neglected the stories of powerful women, Circe shines as bright as the sun. It is a story that demonstrates the complexities and darker themes of womanhood, while also emphasizing the value in love and compassion – traits that are so often overlooked when we talk about what it means to be a strong female character.

Beautifully written, wonderfully unique, and well worth the read.

RATING

Content warnings: violence, gore, rape, torture, graphic childbirth scenes