When I Was Born, The Name For What I Was Did Not Exist

I recently finished reading Circe by Madeline Miller. This is my book club's June book. *POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT* Rating: 3.25/5 stars "In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child--not powerful, like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power--the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur, Daedalus and his doomed son Icarus, the murderous Medea, and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.

With unforgettably vivid characters, mesmerizing language and page-turning suspense, Circe is a triumph of storytelling, an intoxicating epic of family rivalry, palace intrigue, love and loss, as well as a celebration of indomitable female strength in a man's world."

Circe has found itself wrapped in all of the fluff and buildup and publicity of a typical ultra-hyped, big-named publisher release. Let’s be serious—most of us LOVE these kinds of releases and all the hysteria involved, even if we shy away from actually reading the hyped release itself. It can be a book lover’s dream--a book with all the fanfare of a blockbuster, silver-screen release. But, in the end, I couldn’t ride the Circe wave all the way through.

Let’s get one thing clear from the very start: Madeline Miller’s follow-up to The Song of Achilles is an epic in the years spanned but not necessarily in the execution. To me, it read far more like a long story than an “epic.” When I think of that four-lettered word, I think of a novel that’s monumental and moving. I think of The Odyssey. But Circe did not touch me in that way. In fact, there were moments—those times when the novel resorted to recounting the tales of the mythology we all know—when I was bored I wanted to skim the book. In Circe, pages upon pages passed of one character telling another a “story” of others’ happenings, travel, and wars: Telemachus telling Circe about Odysseus, Circe recounting the story of Hermes, and on and on. Who wants to hear second- and third-hand about the chronicles of these larger-than-life names within a novel that calls itself an “epic?” I’d rather feel and live the stories of these mortals and gods alike. Wouldn’t you?

Circe’s life is a true saga, and Miller’s research and background in the Classics shine through in this novel and serve her well. But, there are gaps between the breadth and notoriety of the mythology she incorporated here and the skill with which the novel was actually written. There is only so far that building a modern-day epic on the backs of known names and legends could go; Miller needed to take us the rest of the way to make Circe a contemporary wonder, to make this a saga all her own. This novel didn’t quite make it across that bridge for me.

Circe offered up a world full of color, a world of eternal life and leviathans, of clashing gods and witchcraft, all while tying in mythological tales that’s been handed down for ages. Perhaps it’s only fitting, in that case, that it was overwrought with linguistic hyperbole. This novel was full of both drama and melodrama, only one of which is necessary for a sweeping epic. Yet, I had to appreciate the scale of the story Miller told and the breadth of her knowledge of the Classics. Circe was a great story for sure, but I was never fully moved by how it was told.

It is with immense regret and massive trepidation that I must say...I don’t really get the hype. I really and truly don’t. Why do you guys like this book so much? I am going to go through one potentially good thing with one ultimately disappointing thing and see if any of them click.

1) Because it’s a cool retelling?

This is why I was excited about this, as someone who loves retellings. Recycled plots? Old-timey magic and revenge and mean dads and royalty and dashed love stories that make women turn witchy? Sign me the hell up! But this wasn’t really a retelling. It felt as if I were like “I’m going to rewrite American history but from the perspective of some random chick who happened to be there for/sexually involved in a bunch of it.” It didn’t feel like one cohesive story at all. It felt like me writing a series of vignettes about a woman who had a crush on multiple Founding fathers.

2) Did you all like Percy Jackson?

Is this Percy Jackson for the now-kind-of-grown-ups who once read Percy Jackson? Were you all the weird 11-year-olds who thought they were Greek mythology professors because they read about Logan Lerman’s quirky sea-based summer camp misadventures? (Sorry I mentioned the movie. I know you guys hate that.)

3) Let’s talk about Greek mythology except with one woman instead of a bunch of men?

This is another reason I was excited about this, because I cannot think of a single instance in which a single witchy woman is not a million jillion times better than 100 interchangeable White Men Of History Or Fake Magic History. Well, now I can think of a single instance. If that woman spends the whole book basically on one island, even if that island is near monsters, even if that woman gets the occasional visit from a minor god or two, that is so much more boring. Because even with some significant editorializing, that woman is still witnessing maybe 7% of what’s going down. And it’s not really the fun 7%.

4) Let’s talk about Greek mythology except make it feminist and take out the girl hate?

Another thing that I was excited about and then all of the excitement was brutally eked out of my soul over the course of the book. Circe f*cks a married man or two in this book, and uh. Last time I checked...not the most feminist? Also, she’s not exactly awesome to the spouses of these dudes. Double also, I feel like Penelope (Odysseus’ wife) was a pretty blank slate and could’ve been made into a real badass. Instead, she was boring as hell.

5) Because there’s a badass female protagonist?

This was like the single biggest selling point to me, and therefore THE MOST WRENCHING DISAPPOINTMENT. I truly feel -- and maybe I’m the only one who feels this way -- like this was not so much a badass female protagonist as a woman who spends an (immortal, neverending) lifetime with a series of men. I did not want a series of romances. I wanted a badass, vengeful woman with witchy magical powers.

Bottom line: What I wanted: Feminism! Mythology! Retelling! Badass cool protagonist! What I got: Boring. Island. More island. Check out Circe, and decide for yourself if this book deserves the hype it gets, or if it falls short. Happy Reading :)