A wonderful retelling of the Greek myth of Circe, by Orange Prize winning author Madeline Miller. Daughter of a sea nymph and the God Helios, Circe is neither a god, nor human. After an unhappy childhood growing up in the halls of a god, Circe is banished to an island after casting a dark spell to entice a lover, where her talent for witchcraft thrives. Throughout her exile, many pass the island, including Hermes, Daedalus, and most importantly, Odysseus. Many Greek myths are mentioned throughout the book – some in passing, some in detail, all involving Circe in on way or another. Miller always manages to make a myth many of us already know, to be even more interesting and fascinating, since they are woven into the story rather than being presented separately. I have waited a long time for another book by Madeline Miller, and I was not disappointed.

I dived into Circe believing to be fully prepared for it, all because I had read and re-read, loved and re-loved The Song Achilles. Now I know that was a foolish notion for me to entertain.

In fact, I soon learned the hard way that no matter how well you think you know her and her writing, you are never prepared for what Madeline Miller's pen is going to deliver. This because the key word, where her work is concerned, is “different”: therefore, o future readers, come now to terms with the fact that a story Madeline Miller has woven will be different from what you expect, from what you think you know, and also (maybe I should say especially) from the original sources she draws from, and said distance is most likely its very raison d'être. And nothing more than this could make me grateful, because Madeline Miller's mind working on a well-known story never means impoverishment, or theft, or trivialization, nor any other kind of demeaning operation. What she does, and masterfully at that, is enrich, make brighter, give consistency and meaning to what before was bare, dull, plain.

In Circe, as in The Song of Achilles, each and every character is almost eerily well-rounded, even the minor ones, even the ones with the most marginal roles. And Circe is the cherry on top of it all, so much so that any praise I can think of seems like an understatement. Circe is proud but never haughty, and she is true to herself even when she doesn't know who, or what, she is. She evolves and makes her weaknesses evolve with her, but in spite of this she never forgets what being weak, or having a weakness, feels like, which is, I believe, one of her greatest strengths. She is acutely aware of her situation and what it entails, of what is or isn't beyond her reach, but even from her position of non-power she retains an aura of regality. She is suspicious because she has to be, but she has such immense goodness in her heart as to be completely disarming.
This last point in my list may sound naive, but I ask you to think of all the books you've read in your life, of all your favourite characters, and ask yourselves Which of them do I love because of their kindness? We do not seek kindness in our heroes. Kindness too often results in self-righteousness, if not from the characters themselves, then from the penman, and I surely don't need to spell out to you how irritating that air of superiority can be. Kindness is not an easy tale to tell, but Madeline Miller did it with her Circe, a character who is most definitely not widely known for such a trait, which only makes this feat all the more admirable.

Circe is troubled by the mismatched pieces of her identity, by the whirl of guilt she gets captured in early on in her life, by the world inside of her that keeps her from fitting in the world outside. Circe floats through the centuries as a creature of both worlds, mortal and divine, and of neither at the same time, which puts her in a unique position. Her standpoint is three times significant: she is, in a sense, both internal and external to her story, she is living and telling at once. She spins her threads at Daedalus's loom and her spells at her worktable (she herself points this out as one of the symmetries poets love so much) but she also is the spinner of a story, hers. The whole novel, I think, is the narrative of Circe's fight for the right to spin her story by herself. She doesn't accept the gods' authority, she doesn't accept her grandfather's court's meanness, and she doesn't accept the submission men demand of her as a nymph and as a woman.

Needless to say at this point, Circe was everything I had hoped for and more. If The Song of Achilles didn't hold such a special place in my heart, I'd even say Circe outshines it, with its spotless writing, its majestic protagonist, its charm and beauty and impressive grandness. I will, time permitting, read it again once it hits the shelves, ready to be awed over and over again.

If you’re familiar with my blog you’ll know that if I had to stan any book, I would choose Song of Achilles, always. I love the writing, the setting, the characters. Everything. So, when I saw that Madeline Miller was finally releasing a novel on the life of another person from Ancient Greece I was OVER THE MOON. OVER THE GODDESS CELENE HERSELF.

Circe is considered one of the first ‘witches’ of western civilisation, the goddess of witchcraft and magic, if you will. I know absolutely nothing about Greek mythology and seemingly only get my education from Miller’s novels which, I know, shouldn’t be my only source of information but what these novels do do is give me an introduction to the subject and let me google the crap out of everything else afterwards. So, I thank Madeline Miller for making Ancient Greece so vivid and immersive and making me hungry for more about mythology!

So, Circe is born to sea nymph Perse and the God Helios, who was literally the sun, and basically has a terrible life in Helios’ halls. She’s belittled by her siblings, ignored by her father, and straight up despised by her mother. An eternal life cannot really get much better than bored and fickle gods, but it was empowering to watch Circe grow into an amazing goddess who genuinely loved humans. But above all, she loved herself – and to me that’s so important within a story, especially when it comes to characters who are beaten down so much. I loved the way we saw Circe conquer, even if it was from a small island that paid no mind to anyone, she made it her own, moulded a life she wanted despite the elements and her past.

I loved every moment of it and I know Circe will become a modern classic when it’s released in April.

Did not finish. A very slow start, did not enjoy the characters though I love mythology and liked Miller’s first.

This was my first book by Madeline Miller but I have since also read The Song of Achilles and am now in awe of her storytelling. It takes something very special to take these tales that have survived for so long and been told and retold so many times and breathe new, fresh life into them without undermining the original. This is particularly true when dealing with the story of Circe, a woman who has been maligned as an archetype of female vice and depravity for thousands of years.

Miller’s characters are as extraordinarily drawn as fans of her work will expect and they are the heart and soul of the story. From Gods to humans they are so fully-realised that they can easily stand beside the more fantastic and divine elements of the myth without ever being overshadowed. Circe’s narrative voice, like Patroclus before her, is of such emotional depth and resonance. Her struggle for her identity against others who would define, and thereby control, her is a marvellous parallel for how her figure has been denigrated by Homer and those who came after him. Semi-divine she finds that she is torn between the two halves of her being and scorned and manipulated by the gods. Like Patroclus it is only when she is exiled that she begins to understand herself and makes peace with her duality, reshaping herself as a powerful sorceress whose remote island tempts many to her door. Exile is the true beginning for Circe whose power and dignity grows as she defines herself instead of looking to others. “I will not be like a bird bred in a cage,” she declares, “too dull to fly even when the door stands open. I stepped into those woods and my life began.”

From Daedalus, to Hermes, the Minotaur to Odysseus Miller surrounds the newly-whole character of Circe with a whole cast also reinvigorated from the dry, prototypes of the originals. They become more than just examples of vice and virtue and real living beings with real pains and joys regardless of divinity, deformity or bulls heads (!). It is a preoccupation with the nature of what we call humanity that drives character, narrative and Circe herself, always drawn to mortals and their trials. And while there is no great Siege of Troy to drive the action there are chapters of breathless excitement as Circe faces up to Scylla, clashes with Odysseus and presides over the birth of the Minotaur.

Circe is a triumphant addition to the pantheon of works retelling the stories of women who have been at best patronised and belittled and at worst vilified and demonised by classical storytelling. It is beautifully written, eminently readable and superbly characterised.

Circe was one of my most-anticipated 2018 releases and I was lucky enough to read an ARC back in January thanks to the lovely people at Bloomsbury. The Song of Achilles is one of my favourite books so I had high hopes for this one. Where The Song of Achilles had an epic sweep to it with the siege of Troy, a cast of mythological heroes, and an extraordinary love story, Circe has a narrower focus, chronicling the life of one character. Yet it's no less epic for that. Instead, Madeline Miller shows us the majesty contained in a single life. Circe is a witch, a goddess and immortal, exiled by Zeus and Helios to the deserted island of Aiaia with only her animals for company. As a woman in a patriarchal society, Circe is expendable and misogyny is prevalent. In a society based on strength, it was almost expected that stronger men would take what they wanted, raping women both mortal and immortal, without consequence.

Every character is nuanced but Circe is beautifully drawn. She does not share the gods' revulsion of mortals, instead, she is enchanted by them and drawn to their very mortality. The idea of mortality and immortality permeated the story - is immortality a curse, denying rest and promising eternal grief, or is it the greatest gift imaginable? The suffocating loneliness of Circe and her thirst for companionship throughout her years and years of existence was almost painful to read. However, her life intersects with mythological mortals such as Daedalus, Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus, entwining their fates. Despite Circe being best known from The Odyssey, Odysseus has only a small part - this story is about Circe, not the men who knew her. 

The beautiful prose was lyrical and powerful. Every sentence, every word, is essential and conjures its own kind of magic. The descriptions of the island and nature were evocative and I could have read pages focused just on those. Rereading The Song of Achilles immediately after finishing this, it was evident that Madeline Miller's writing style and prose has matured. The story weaved itself into my soul and I found myself limiting how many pages I read so I could savour it. The open ending was powerful in its ambiguity but I hope Circe found happiness. This has definitely been one of the best books I've read in recent years and I can see myself rereading it over and over.

Madeline Miller has done it again. I’m going to keep this review nice and simple, and just give three reasons why you should read Circe by Madeline Miller when it comes out this April:

1. She has such a vivid and unusual way with words. She creates metaphors and images that shouldn’t work, but do, and are so effective that they are stamped into your mind.
2. You learn about Greek mythology, and you do so from a completely unique perspective. Can Madeline Miller please write novels about every Greek character I’ve ever heard of? I might have been more interested in my Classics lessons if I had been able to read Miller's characters alongside The Iliad and The Odyssey.
3. She has such wonderfully well-developed characters! Every character is so nuanced, and has both positive and negative attributes. Despite many of them being immortal, they are all so human - you can't help but love them. Circe herself is a wonderful character because of her negative attributes as well as her positive ones.
5/5

My love of Greek mythology is deeply seated in my soul, having devoured stories of the gods and all their trickery since I was young. My Grandmother's house was a reader's treasure trove and this is where it all began for me. I loved these tales unconditionally, even when the gods were merciless and cruel. Circe featured regularly so there was no way a novel about her life would pass me by.

Of all the books I read this year, tipping toward 65 at this point, Circe has claimed the top spot for me, being the best of the best. It is utterly beautiful in its language and tone, lyrical in a way that must surely be gifted from the gods. Ms. Miller has transformed the witch Circe into a sympathetic and likeable character. Misunderstood no longer. You might not think a life of exile on an island would provide enough content for a rich and engaging novel but you would be mistaken. Circe's exile is full of adventure, mystery, love, vengeance and self discovery.

I dreaded the end of the book when I noticed the progress on my kindle moving swiftly beyond 50%. Why can't the books you enjoy best go on endlessly instead of finishing too soon? Never have I been more thankful for an advanced readers copy as the wait for an April 2018 book release would be too difficult to bear. I am happy for you, though, as Circe will provide you with amazing entertainment and delight. It is definitely worth the wait!

Every bit as captivating as 'The Song of Achilles', Circe brings the ancient world to glittering life, with love, magic, banishment and ultimately transformation. A wonderful re-telling of Homer's Odyssey.

For her second novel, Madeline Miller returns to the fertile world of Greek mythology, and to another figure often overshadowed by a swaggering hero. This time her protagonist is Circe, sorceress and nymph, ruler of one of the many islands where Odysseus manages to get lost en route from Troy to Ithaca. Artists have always loved Circe: John William Waterhouse, in particular, seems to have been obsessed with this exotic enchantress. And yet Miller invites us to look beyond the magic, the sensuality and the unfortunate habit of turning people into pigs. As she did in The Song of Achilles, she gathers strands of myth from various sources and reveals little-known aspects to a familiar figure. Like Penelope, Miller is a master weaver; and yet there's something at the heart of the book that doesn't quite work.

I'll be completely honest: before reading this novel, all I knew about Circe was what I'd learned from the Odyssey.  On several occasions during the book, I found places where Miller seemed to be gleefully pulling together threads from every which way; but in every single case she was exonerated by my Dictionary of Greek Mythology, which showed that in fact she was sticking scrupulously to the myths themselves. Long before Circe was a sorceress on her deserted island, she was a nymph, daughter of the sun-god Helios and the Oceanid Perse. She comes from old, Titan stock, not the arriviste blood of Olympus, and her childhood is spent in her father's subterranean halls, listening to the remaining Titians grumbling about their upstart conquerors. I have to admit that there was something of the high-school movie about Circe's youth, as she is shunned by the more popular nymphs and taunted by her snide siblings Pasiphae and Perses.

Yes, Circe's siblings are equally as famous as their sister. Pasiphae goes on to marry Minos of Crete and, fatally, to take too strong an interest in a beautiful bull. Perses is not, as I first assumed, the mythical ancestor of the Persians (that was apparently Perseus' son Perses who, just to make matters really confusing, went on to have children by Circe's mother Perse), but a formidable necromancer nonetheless. Circe's younger brother Aeetes goes on to become king of Colchis, fathering Medea and ruling his kingdom with dark magic. And how does Circe fit into this dazzling brotherhood? Well... she doesn't. While her siblings bring the world under their sway, poor Circe lingers at home without a conquest to her name, sneered at by vapid nymphs and patronised by her father. And then, for an impulsive crime of passion, she is suddenly dealt an even worse fate: exile.

But exile brings Circe to Aiaia, a quiet island in the middle of nowhere, where she gradually finds herself. She tames the wild beasts and learns to make use of the herbs that grow in lush profusion. Soon, she understands that she isn't an embarrassment or a failure: she has magic of her own, oh yes, but unlike her brothers and sister she can't use it on the world stage. She is trapped by Zeus' command... but people can still come to her. First there are sailors; nymphs; divine visitors. And then, one day, another ship comes over the horizon, and Circe finds herself stepping onto the epic stage of world mythology.

I always enjoy stories that try to bring order to the tangle of myths left behind by the Greeks, but there were places where I thought this book didn't quite achieve its ambitions. The problem is that Miller's Circe is a rather pathetic character for much of the book. She's stuck in one place; things happen to her; she's trapped by men both mortal and divine; and she doesn't have the pizzazz to do anything about it. Centuries pass (literally) while she does little but potter around the island. It feels as if drama only comes into the story when Circe gets a bit part in somebody else's myth, and that's unfortunate, because I had the sense that the story was usually going on somewhere else. Hermes obligingly drops by now and again and brings us up to date - the Minotaur's dead! - Medea's taking Jason's second marriage badly! - but I couldn't help wanting Circe herself to do something more interesting than whip up potions and (latterly) worry about her parenting skills. It might have been interesting if she'd actually been genuinely plain, as the nymphs call her, but it turns out that 'plain' to a nymph is 'ravishingly beautiful' to a human, so Circe doesn't really undermine our expectations. I found the characterisation of Odysseus far more interesting: a man crueller, more fragile and less pleasant than I'd imagined him in the past.

I suspect I just find it hard to click with Miller, because I found her Patroclus rather irritating as well (mainly because he fluttered around and tidied the tent rather than fighting). What I must stress is that her knowledge of mythology is extraordinary: she has brought together elements of the Circe legend from far and wide, and done a very respectable job of making a logical story out of it, with a feminist slant. It isn't her fault that it feels episodic rather than fluid. If you enjoyed The Song of Achilles, then you should certainly give this a go, and I look forward to hearing other's views on it. 

This review will be published on my blog on 12 April 2018 at the following link:
https://theidlewoman.net/2018/04/12/circe-madeline-miller

Pearls and swine

How do you write a convincing novel based on events from Classical Greek mythology? How do you treat gods and magic? Do you play up the comic aspects and ignore any sense of realism? Or do you omit them completely and strive for the real story behind the myth? Both methods have been employed by other authors, the second more generally successful than the first.

Madeline Millar has chosen to centre her novel on a goddess, Circe, a goddess who is also a witch. There is no attempt to divorce the story from its magical or Classically divine content. This is the Circe who is the isolated temptress of the Odyssey, who transforms Odysseus’ men into swine and who subsequently has a love affair with the cunning Greek.

In the author’s hands Circe and the many other gods and titans of the story are portrayed with the frightening power and personal selfishness of Homer or Hesiod or in the plays of Euripides. The story is perforce episodic, as gods are immortal and the lives of mankind are finite. Thus we are treated to a parade of figures from myth, Daedalus, the Minotaur, Medea (Circe’s niece), Jason and then, at last, Odysseus. With the advent of Odysseus, the tale moves towards the familial tragedies of Greek drama; Circe’s curse is that she is immortal and those she loves are not.

The best narratives of Greek myth are those which respect the origins, the contexts and the dramatic power of the original stories, but which also give us something new and fresh – exactly what Madeline Millar has done in this remarkable novel.

I had loved The Song of Achilles by this author and so was keen to read this book. All I knew about Circe was that she was a witch who had lured Odysseus to her island.


This novel filled in her “roots” as the daughter of the sun god Helios and the naiad Perse. However Circe never fits in with her family and looks for love elsewhere with disastrous consequences. She is eventually exiled to the island of Aiaia where she must make a new life for herself, although her sister on Crete is not content to leave her there.

Although this is a story of gods and “heroes”, Miller depicts the family dynamics, love and loss as very human. I had recently read Colm Toibin’s House of Names which similarly takes a classical Greek myth/legend and puts it in a human context. What sets Miller’s novel apart is that it explores the female condition. Circe son learns that males (men or gods ) usually think they have more power. Circe herself finds comfort in the more natural knowledge she gains by living in harmony with the island she lives on, the plants and animals etc. When her island is “invaded” she sometimes needs to turn this knowledge to “witchcraft” to protect herself.

I read this when on holiday in Corfu and could visualise the landscape punctuated by tall cypress trees that Miller describes so beautifully. (Her previous novel the Song of Achilles also informed my visit to a house dedicated to Achilles on the island too)

The last page has much lyrical poetry about it but also sums up the whole book about “this is what it means to be alive” and about how we must all live in a world of change.


This is a readable, compassionate novel which breathes real life into legend and myth.

The short version of this review: I ADORED it.

The longer version:
This is a fabulous retelling of the Circe and Odysseus story, from Circe's perspective. If you've ever wondered why she turned his men into pigs, here is the backstory!
I loved the way the author (whose other books I've also thoroughly enjoyed) makes characters from mythology - the titans, the monsters, the lesser divines such as nymphs and naiads, even the Olympian gods themselves - seem, well, human!
Both Circe and Odysseus emerge as complex, rounded personalities.
Ultimately, it's about what it means to be mortal or immortal, as the case may be.
Not only does she vividly recreate life on the island of Aeaea, Circe's lonely home, but she makes us understand the motivations of characters we always thought we knew: was it really hubris that made Icarus fly too near the sun, or something else perhaps?
I was lucky enough to read this novel on holiday on Crete, which gave it an extra dimension for me, as the Minotaur puts in an appearance.

Circe de-clawed and domesticated

Once again, I'm afraid I'm an outlier when it comes to Miller: while I didn't dislike this in the same way that I did her Achilles, I found this to be a shallow, even superficial, version of Circe, and one which takes a woman who is wild and dangerous in the originary myths and then de-claws and domesticates her.

Miller's Circe is kind and gentle, yearning to be loved and included in her cold family, and even the meanness of her sister Pasiphaë doesn't rouse her. Later we see her happily weaving, gardening and congratulating herself on how 'snug' her home is, and even her encounter with Odysseus is far tamer than it is in Homer.

The last part is particularly hard for me to swallow: (view spoiler) - so much for one of the most edgy, obstructionist, untameable female characters in classical myth!

Alongside this, the book leaps through a number of myths that, traditionally, have nothing to do with Circe: Prometheus, the Minotaur (view spoiler), Ariadne, Phaedra, as well as a visit from Medea with Jason in tow - and much is told to us via a version of the 'messenger speech' where we're quickly given a run-down of what's happened off-stage, as it were.

This is certainly readable and it's great that Miller has revived classical stories for a new audience - but for a C21st female author to take a fierce and powerful character like Circe whose very existence serves as a challenge to 'good' women, and then turn her into exactly the kind of domesticated wife figure that Circe contests feels strange to me.

Another stunning tale wrapped in Greek mythology and steeped in history, I was completely pulled in by this greatly written story

Circe is perhaps one of my most anticipated books for the next year and, while I have been wavering on how to rate it, it definitely did not disappoint. I would say I perhaps didn't like it so much as I did The Song of Achilles when I read that, but that's always going to be a hard book to top.

The novel tells the story of the nymph, Circe, from her birth up until she is released from exile. Circe is the daughter of the sun god, Helios, although by all accounts she is a strange child, lacking in the powers that her father and siblings all possess. The first quarter or so of the book is taken up with Circe living in her father's palace, ignored by most of her family and his courtesans. Then, she discovers the ability to do witchcraft, at which point she is exiled to live alone on an island, Aiaia. It was at this point that I really got into the story.

That's not to say it was boring up until that point - Madeline Miller's gorgeous writing was plenty enough for me to maintain interest - but after the exile happens, Circe really comes into her own. That was my favourite aspect of this book, seeing Circe develop from being someone who's eager to please her father, even as he tells her she's the least of his children, into someone with the power to challenge Athena herself.

My favourite part of the book comes when Circe meets Telemachus and Penelope. I loved how Miller wrote the growth of the relationship between Penelope and Circe. Initially, Circe believes that Penelope and Telemachus wish vengeance on Telegonus, her son (for reasons which Wikipedia will happily tell you), but they get to know each other and become friends. There are too many books where two women, in love with the same man, will be framed as nemeses so I appreciated that they became close instead.

If there was one thing I found pretty awkward about this book, it's that it ends with Telemachus and Circe implied as being in a relationship. The awkwardness comes from the fact that Circe had previously had a relationship with Odysseus (Telemachus' father), which had spawned a son, Telegonus. So Circe ends up in a relationship with her own son's half brother... It just felt weird.

That's probably why I can't rate this five stars, though I originally did so immediately after finishing. I was wavering between four and five for a while, but that is enough to tip my review to a four.

Homer's Odyssey from a female perspective, specifically through the eyes of mixed race Circe (half nymph, half God, 100% feminist). Love the contemporary spin on this super historical fiction, laughed out loud when Telem referred to something as "overrated". So vastly prefer this to slogging through the original, was much much easier to grasp themes like the importance of knowing oneself, and of fully becoming and being oneself.

Circe is a retelling of Greek mythology full of storytelling, magic, and female power in the face of mockery and banishment. After having rewritten Homer’s Iliad in The Song of Achilles, Miller turns to his Odyssey for this novel, with Circe as main character. Born to the sun god Helios and a naiad, Circe is an outsider from her birth with a strange voice and yellow eyes. Her siblings mock her and her prospects don’t even stretch as far as becoming a wife. When she meets a handsome young fisherman, Glaucus, she meddles in his life to try and suit herself, but gods and mortals don’t mix, and soon Circe is discovering more about herself, power she did not know she had, and it sets her on the way to becoming the witch of the island Aiaia.

Miller has written an intricate novel, tying together many classical stories through the perspective of Circe, including that of her sister Pasiphae and her infamous time married to Minos, and Circe’s encounters with the hero Odysseus. Her ostracised position means that though these stories are shown first hand, many others are told to her as tales or given as answers to her enquiries about those she once knew. The effect is a weaving together of stories, particularly for readers who know only some bits of Greek mythology, and overall it works well to give not only Circe’s story, but new perspectives on other tales too.

The novel starts fairly slowly and covers a lot of ground as her immortal lifespan allows the narrative to keep progressing. This does mean that it can be difficult to get into at first, but once Circe is on Aiaia the book blooms into the tale of a woman who carves her own place, both physically and using magic and power, in a world that seemed to be against her. In particular, Miller highlights the tension between gods and mortals, not only as separate entities, but within individuals.

Circe is a different beast to The Song of Achilles, focused on female power and nature rather than the battles of the Trojan war, but it does have similar themes of love and loss, plus questions of mortality and remembrance. As a character, Circe is given an agency not always found in tales of male heroes and many readers will find this a refreshing take on the Odyssey (though it is likely others will question Miller’s choices regarding the variable interpretations of these stories).

Thanks Bloomsbury Publishing Plc (UK & ANZ) and netgalley for this ARC.

I just couldn't get myself into this one. I guess not every book is for everyone. I think this is more for a younger audience.

What a total joy.
It's been a long wait after reading song of Achilles but worth every month, every year.
A truly epic tale focusing on Circe, daughter of the most powerful Greek god Helios. She wasn't a character I knew anything Npbout in advance ( unlike Achilles) so it was a very different kind of read in that respect.
So many Greek myths, gods, goddesses, tales that we have all heard though the years that I spent a lot of time reminding myself of their tales as well such as Icarus, the Minataur.... etc....
Truly a book that educates as well as utterly enthrals and delights. I want to read it over and over again.

I have nothing but the utmost admiration for the author and the incredible knowledge she has that she shares with us all through accessible, commercial and pure joyous fiction.

Thanks Bloomsbury!