Circe: The Witch Tells Her Story

"Modern retellings of the lives of women from Homer's epics" is quickly becoming my favorite literary genre. Hyper specific? Yes. But insanely good? YES. After reading The Silence of the Girls upon the recommendation of Barrie Hardymon on NPR's Pop Culture Happy Hour, I picked up her next recommendation, Circe, by Madeline Miller. And damn, who knew a book about a divine sorceress that spans epochs could be such a page-turner?

You may remember Circe as being the sorceress who turned Odysseus' men into pigs and then fell in love with him and allowed him and his men to stay on her island for a year. She provided advice on how to get back to Ithaca (which the sailors promptly disobeyed, natch), and is generally considered another minor character in the hero's journey that is the Odyssey. However, in Circe, the witch gets her own epic, a biography that begins with her birth as daughter of the Titan, Helios (aka the Sun). She is derided by the other gods and nymphs, everyone considering her to be ugly with a reedy voice, and utterly powerless. She lurks about the palace, observing everyone else, trying to avoid their scorn, but also trying to divine what it means to be a goddess.

Circe's brothers and sisters initially seem like uninteresting characters, but as the book progresses, you realize this motley extended family has been involved in many of the most famous Greek myths. Her sister Pasiphae marries King Minos and Circe is present at the birth of the monstrous Minotaur. Her brother, Aeetes, is the father of Medea, and keeper of the Golden Fleece, which means Circe gets involved as Jason and Medea make their escape on the Argo. Every time a ship would stop by Circe's island, I would perk up thinking it must be Odysseus, but then I got an even better Greek myth instead. When Odysseus shows up in the last third of the book, you've already gotten a robust view of the incredible Circe, and come to understand Odysseus is just a very minor character in her own epic tale.

Circe is a gorgeous novel, replete with all of your favorite gods and goddesses of Greek myth, but also many seemingly minor characters that you then realize had a huge part to play in the stories that have been passed down through the ages. Madeline Miller deftly weaves together all of these stories to reveal how one goddess wields such power and influence, but ultimately the glory only goes to the famous men in the stories. In fact, her encounters with Jason and Odysseus recalled to my mind a discussion I had in college about the Greek definition of "hero." While the modern definition implies a goodness of character and doing things for the benefit of others, to the Greeks, a hero was someone who sought glory, displaying their courage, strength, or wiles. Classical heroes were not "good;" they were famous and powerful. Circe instantly notices this about Jason and Odysseus - they are men who have done many great deeds, but they are also terrible men, with quick tempers, disdain for those around them, and no real interest in being good or kind. In that sense, Circe is much closer to our modern definition of a hero.

To me, the greatest revelation in Circe is the story of why she turns the sailors who come to her island into pigs. I never thought to ask why when I read the Odyssey. It was just a given, "witches be crazy, right?!" But here, we get a remarkable story that serves to illustrate how delving into the backstory of seemingly minor mythological characters can provide rich and moving narratives that keep their stories alive for generations more. I had thought my love for classical mythology peaked in college after reading scads of Homer, Euripides, and Sophocles. But if authors like Madeline Miller and Pat Barker keep churning out books about the women in the background of these epics, I will be devouring these stories for many years to come.