Madeline Miller’s Circe is a mythological, day-to-day, feminist, witchcraft, fantasy novel for older young adults. It retells the life of the sorceress Circe, best known from Homer’s Odyssey, from a young child to the moment where she chooses whether to stay immortal or become mortal. As well as being a direct retelling of the myth surrounding Circe, it also incorporates and references numerous myths from antiquity, many well-known, and even a few lesser known, as well as having various mentions of common tropes from ancient Greek myth. Circe’s story spans centuries, so the inclusion of several generations of classical myths is one that makes sense for the narrative, and allows Circe, the eponymous character, to reflect on herself and her own life, as well as all the issues of gods and mortals. As Hovind describes, it is much like the Odyssey in that it “is based on the titular character describing past and present events,” however while the Odyssey spans two decades, Circe spans much more.* It often becomes philosophical, as Circe tries to reconcile the changing nature of the world with her own experiences and traumas as she struggles to make a place for herself amid the spiteful and unkind lesser gods that are her peers.
Early on in the novel, Circe encounters the titan, Prometheus, while his punishment for bringing fire to mortals is being decided. A version of this Greek myth is briefly written in Book 1.7 of Apollodorus’ Library, and Miller’s version is true to form. Circe narrates: “I heard the news from a naiad cousin: he had been taken to great jagged peak in the Caucasus and chained to a rock. An eagle was commanded to come every noon to tear out his liver and eat it steaming from his flesh”, whereas Apollodorus writes: “So Prometheus was nailed [to Mount Caucasos] and held fast there…each day, an eagle swooped down to feed on the lobes of his liver, which grew again by night” (Miller, 21. Apol. 1.7.1). The only real difference is that he was either nailed or chained. The inclusion of this myth in the novel provides Circe with a frame of reference for someone who is not cruel like the rest of the gods she is surrounded by in her early life. Before he is punished, Circe speaks to Prometheus, and he tells her that “not every god need be the same” (18). This is a pivotal piece of advice that Circe comes back to throughout the novel time and again to remind herself that she does not need to be petty and spiteful like the other gods. As Preston writes, for Circe “this kindles a deep sympathetic interest in humans”.** Thus, the inclusion of this myth begins to set up a frame of self-awareness and morality in Circe, which she seeks to understand and develop throughout her life. As Hovind details, it is empathy that sets Circe apart from other gods, both as they are portrayed in Greek myth, and as they are portrayed in the novel, as well as generating new layers of depth to her character not seen in the Odyssey.***
There are also many other myths that are incorporated into the earlier sections of the novel that can be found in Apollodorus’ Library, Ovid’s Metamorphoses, or Apollonius Rhodius’ Argonautica, such as the transformation of the mortal Glaucos into a sea-god and the subsequent transformation of the nymph Scylla into the six-headed, tentacled monster; Pasiphaë and the sacred bull; Daedalus’ labyrinth; Theseus and the Minotaur; Theseus and Ariadne; a mention of Aeëtes having the golden fleece on Colchis; and Medea and Jason’s request of Circe for a ritual cleansing of their sins.
A large portion of the novel is given over to Odysseus’ stay on Aiaia on his journey home from the Trojan War, and several other episodes from Homer’s Odyssey are alluded to. The section in Circe begins – although from Circe’s perspective – much as it does in the Odyssey, with Circe turning Odysseus’ men into swine. In Book 10. 250–270, Circe “opened her gleaming doors at once and stepped forth, inviting them all in…then she mixed them a potion…suddenly she struck with her wand, drove them into her pigsties, all of them bristling into swine—with grunts, snouts—even their bodies…”. There is an interesting change to this that Miller makes in order to fit better with her recreation of Circe. There is not a specifically magical “wand”, but rather Circe simply raises a “staff”, mentioned very briefly, and only during this one transformation (all previous sailors were turned into pigs only through herbs, and what is described as “a word of power”). Circe narrates: “I raised my staff of ash wood and they ran…their piggy eyes still wet with the last of their human tears” (171). It is simple and brief, the pain of the sailors and the gruesomeness of the bodily transformation already previously detailed. Even with the brevity, it still maps quite accurately to the Odyssey. The addition of a “word of power” into Miller’s narrative brings forward the idea that ‘spells’ are being cast, rather than just herbal metamorphoses. Including this episode is also integral to the narrative of Circe, as this is perhaps the best-known myth about Circe, and Miller uses it to her advantage to continue building a three-dimensional characterisation of Circe that is not seen in ancient texts, as well as later doing the same for Odysseus.
Odysseus tells Circe stories of the Trojan War that can be found in the Iliad and in Apollodorus, as well as in numerous other places such as the tragedies by playwrights Aeschylus and Euripides that tell the Trojan cycle. Circe has not heard of Achilles, as isolated as she has been on Aiaia, so Odysseus tells her: “Achilles, prince of Phthia, swiftest of all the Greeks, best of the Achaian warriors at Troy. Beautiful, brilliant, born from the dread nereid Thetis, graceful and deadly as the sea itself. The Trojans had fallen before him like grass before a scythe, and the mighty Prince Hector himself perished at his ash-spear’s end” (184–185). This is very similar to how Achilles is described in the Iliad, although it is not all in one sentence such as Miller puts it, but rather lore picked out from throughout. Odysseus also tells Circe of Palamedes, Philoctetes, Astyanax, the Trojan Horse, and more, all stories of horror and deceit. Miller is stripping back the trope of the hero persona from Odysseus, exposing the rawness of the horrors of his experiences and showing the burdens he carries with him instead of continuing the one-sided wiliness of the Homeric hero. Circe also warns Odysseus of some of the trials he still has to face on his path from Aiaia to Ithaca, such as a katabasis to speak to Tiresias in the underworld, the Sirens, Scylla, and the Cattle of the Sun, all episodes drawn straight from the Odyssey.
Another main story that Odysseus tells Circe is the cyclopes episode from the Odyssey. It is a very condensed version of events, skimming over the lengthy descriptions of the epic. Miller boils it down to the main plot points for her narrative: “The giant [the cave] belonged to, the one-eyed shepherd Polyphemus, returned and caught them…Man after man he gobbled down…” (278). This is much simpler language than how it appears in the Odyssey, but Miller’s narrative is faithful. In the epic in Book 9. 320–330 it appears as: “…he lunged out with his hands toward my men and snatching two at once, rapping them on the ground…and ripping them limb from limb to fix his meal.” It is much more gruesome in the epic. This story appears twice in Circe, first when Odysseus initially tells it to Circe, really only mentioning it in passing, and the second time, when Circe later tells the tale to Telemachus, Odysseus’ son when he visits her island after the death of his father. As put forth by Adams and Cassidy, this iteration of the same story makes it clear that throughout Circe’s long life, time is repetitive, and the future often echoes the past (although Adams and Cassidy relate the idea more to Circe’s experience of motherhood).**** This version is a slightly more drawn-out telling, but it primarily serves the purpose of forcing Telemachus to reflect on the kind of man his father was. Miller again spins Odysseus’ characterisation away from the epically heroic, choosing to make Telemachus see him as a man who made misery for other men. It is an interesting and unusual way to spin Odysseus, and it is one that provokes a rethinking of epic poetry in those who know the tradition, as well as a new representation of Circe that, as Preston writes, “makes these age-old texts thrum with contemporary relevance”.*****
There are also many other myths included, such as the ‘succession myth’ of how Zeus overthrew Kronos, as detailed in Hesiod’s Theogony or Apollodorus’ Library; Hermes tells Circe many tales of mythological figures; gods such as Helios, Apollo, Athena, and Trygon make appearances; as well as any number of nymphs and naiads. The birth and childhood of Circe and Odysseus’ son, Telegonus, also appears in the narrative, as well as Penelope and Telemachus visiting Aiaia after Odysseus’ death, which does not appear in ancient myth as Balée details, but nevertheless is an excellent representation of these two characters that makes “emotional and artistic sense”.****** Circe is a novel that explores many ancient mythological narratives, twisting them into a new light through the eyes of the powerful Circe.
* Hovind, Stine-Mari, Madeline Miller’s "Circe": A Contemporary Version of Homer’s "The Odyssey" and the Role of the Witch in Modern Feminism, master thesis, NTNU open, 2022, 39–55 (accessed: February 15, 2023).
** Preston, Alex, “‘Circe’ by Madeline Miller Review – Greek classic thrums with contemporary relevance”, The Guardian, 2018.
*** Hovind, Stine-Mari, Madeline Miller’s "Circe": A Contemporary Version of Homer’s "The Odyssey" and the Role of the Witch in Modern Feminism, NTNU, 2022, 39–55.
**** Adams, Sarah LaChance, and Tanya Cassidy, “Introduction” in LaChance Adams et al., eds., The Maternal Tug: Ambivalence, Identity, and Agency, Demeter Press, 2020, 11–24.
***** Preston, Alex, “‘Circe’ by Madeline Miller Review – Greek classic thrums with contemporary relevance”, The Guardian, 2018.
****** Balée, Susan, “Ducks, Virgins, Snakes and Witches”, The Hudson Review 71.3 (2018): 603–612.
