Circe, by Madeline Miller
Another Madeline Miller! I thoroughly enjoyed her debut The Song of Achilles when I read it in the summer, so I had high hopes for this one. And I was not disappointed. I found it to be incredibly well-written, which made it quite a compelling page-turner that was over way too fast. The other thing I relished about it was its undeniable feminist oomph. I know that's not a particularly intelligent way of phrasing it, but it really did pack a punch with its powerful female characters. Circe herself was quite the girl-boss.
This book is a retelling of a Greek myth. The original features Circe the sorceress: an infamous villain known for turning men into pigs, and a background character in the story of Odysseus. What Miller has done is re-spun the tale, re-casting Circe as the main character and painting her in a completely different light. We see Circe's untold side of the story, which enables us both to sympathise with her, and to notice the patriarchal nature of the world of Greek mythology which she so powerfully defies.
One thing I enjoyed about Miller's re-telling was the inclusion of so many different characters, and allusions to so many different myths. I cannot claim to be an expert on Greek mythology - far from it! - but I do have some knowledge of a few myths. The bit that I found especially exciting about this book was the way they intertwined, and how the characters knew each other.
This book had the Minotaur in it. It had Medea and Jason in it. It had Scylla the multi-headed sea monster in it. It had Odysseus talking about the Trojan War in it. All of the above were familiar to me, but what I didn't realise was that they were all linked together by Circe. Circe's sister was the mother of the Minotaur, and Circe was the midwife who delivered the beast. Circe was the witch who cleansed Medea of a murder. Circe created Scylla. Circe was Odysseus's lover. It was a really interesting perspective-flip to see all these characters as cameos in Circe's story, rather than the other way round.
This leads me nicely onto the other thing I enjoyed about the perspective: the fact that it was told from the point of view of a god. This had a fascinating impact on the time-span - I don't think I've ever read a novel that spanned several centuries. We see mortals born, and we see them grow up into adulthood, we see them die of old age. And Circe remains constant throughout. She doesn't age, she doesn't get injured, or require sleep, or get sunburn. Miller peppers the book with little reminders that Circe is immortal, and the differences are especially clear when she interacts with mortals: she always notes their fragility and frailty.
The things that plague Circe are not mortal problems like hunger and age, but issues like the Fates and the vengeance of gods. The way Miller writes about these as though they are so normal is very effective, because it fully immerses you in the mythical world - we become lost in Circe's universe. Also on setting, a large proportion of this book takes place on the island of Aiaia where Circe spends her exile for a few hundred years. It was surprisingly relatable for a reader who has recently experienced a country-wide lockdown; Circe's reaction to seeing other people after so many years alone with her nymphs rung true to my experience of emerging from lockdown and socialising again for the first time (of course, our lockdown seems measly in comparison to Circe's exile which lasted literally ages, but we are mere mortals...).
Overall, Circe left me with a sense of viewing a known story through a different window. A story of male heroism became a story of female empowerment. The main characters became bit-parts and the background character became the protagonist. My mortal perspective was cast aside as I was drawn into the life of a goddess. I really, really enjoyed it.