When I was in secondary school, I took Latin as an extra course curriculum. And though, I neither excelled nor was interested in learning Latin, I was drawn to the Latin myths, legends and epic poems of ancient Rome. I believe that most of my classmates, to the exception of some, had the same mindset as I did, in the sense that, we were more captivated by the stories than by translating texts from Latin to French or French to Latin. That is why, our teacher gifted us with myths, poems, and legends that were either extraordinary, terrifying, and/or bewitching but also dramatic about gods and goddesses, titans, and demi-gods as well as nymphs and monsters. I read Virgil’s Aeneid, extracts from Livy’s History of Rome, and Ovid’s Metamorphosis but also parts of Homer’s Iliad and The Odyssey and Apollonius of Rhodes’s Argonautica as well as excerpts from Hesiod’s Theogony. In these stories, demi-gods and male heroes were at the front and centre of these epic poems, creating their own legends through war, challenges, and adventures. However, female protagonists, such as Circe, were not being given the same honours and, as depicted in both Homer and Ovid’s accounts, Circe became known as an enchantress who transformed sailors into pigs for her own pleasure, who fell madly in love with Odysseus and did anything in her powers to prevent him from leaving Aeaea because, even though she was a goddess, she was still a woman; and a woman could only be driven by violent and extreme emotions. Ariadne, Medea, and Dido as well as Calypso; women in these ancient epic ballads were often, if not always, behind the successes of male heroes, and yet, in bards’ songs, these women would always end up being feared and vilified before being defeated, subjected, and sometimes even killed to further these men’s destiny.
“When I was born, the word for what I was did not exist.” Circe, Chapter I, p.1
Madeline Miller’s novel Circe wants her story to be an ode to the character of Circe and aims at shedding a new light on the mysterious and powerful witch of Aiaia, first child and daughter of the Titan Helios, god of the sun, and the ocean nymph Perse. Ever since the moment she was born, Circe was different from the rest of the nymphs (naiads, nereids and Oceanids alike) and different from the rest of the gods and goddesses for she did not possess neither the voice of an immortal being nor the powers of one but also because she lacked the ethereal beauty of her people. Considered and labelled not goddess-like, Circe is rapidly put aside by her less than loving parents and her conceited and ambitious siblings: Pasiphaë, Perses, and Aeëtes. In the first quarter of the novel, Circe’s unhappy childhood has made her so detached and uninterested with the world around her that it leads her to follow her impulses; impulses which she will reflect upon and come to regret later on leading her character to continuously evolve and improve herself. And in that aspect, Circe differentiates herself from the other gods and goddesses for she possesses kindness, empathy, and will. And this, in my opinion, makes Circe a remarkable piece of character work.
Nonetheless, I think it is important to note that, at times, Madeline Miller’s novel falls into pathos which affected my capacity in understanding Circe, in relating to Circe’s experiences, and in showing empathy to Circe. In other words, there were too many tragic, depressing, and heart-wrenching moments which impacted my view of Circe and made me question the evolution of her understanding of the world and herself. There were moments when I found that Circe was static, always reacting to events instead of being at the heart of them as though she was nothing but a side character in someone else's story. And yet, I believe that this was a deliberate and well-thought decision on the author's part as it showed how Circe played an important role in many Greek myths and legends such as: the Minotaur, the Argonauts, and Odysseus's stay on Aiaia, etc.
“We landed with a jolt. I opened my eyes to see a high soft hill, thick with grass. My father stared straight ahead. I felt a sudden urge to fall on my knees and beg him to take me back, but instead I forced myself to step down onto the ground. The moment my foot touched, he and his chariot were gone.” Circe, Chapter VII, p.67
As she remained on Aiaia, the island she was exiled to by her father Helios for having turned the nymph Scylla into a sea monster, she found herself content with her new found independence as it offers her the space and freedom to work on her witchcraft and surpass her siblings in spells, transformations, and illusions through challenges and hard work as well as through loss, pain, and love.
“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.” Circe, Chapter XXVII, p. 333
In her characterisation of Circe, Madeline Miller is set on showing the reader how profoundly human the sorceress of Aiaia is compared to the Olympians, Titans, and other lesser gods and goddesses. And honestly, having Circe being the better person in the room wasn’t hard for the author to achieve especially when all the Greek deities are being portrayed as narcissistic sociopaths who love torturing humans to entertain themselves. This, in fact, constitutes one of the main criticisms I have regarding this novel. But I know that this is mostly due to the fact that I disagree with how negatively modern authors portray the concept of immortality and, as I was reading the last chapters of Circe, I kept hoping it would have a somewhat similar ending to Eugammon of Cyrene’s epic poem The Telegony but it did not, and I found myself disappointed.
Miller, M. Circe. London, Bloomsbury Publishing, 2019.