"My whole life, I had waited for tragedy to find me. I never doubted that it would, for I had desires and defiance and powers more than others thought I deserved, all the things that draw the thunderstroke. A dozen times grief had scorched, but its fire had never burned through my skin. My madness in those days rose from a new certainty: that at last, I had met the thing the gods could use against me."
Madeline Miller's incredible novel has been billed as "subversive" as a feminist retelling of a key character in "The Odyssey," but beyond that, it is a compelling story that draws together a number of Greek myths in an intensely personalizing way.
"Circe" has a rhythm-and-flow lilt, calling to mind epic poems, and it is a tribute to Miller's talent that she pulls this off without distracting from the essential storyline.
With notable struggles, the heroine straddles the divine and mortal worlds, making mistakes, exposing her heart, and finding her soul.
"He was another knife, I could feel it. A different sort, but a knife still. I did not care. I thought: give me the blade. Some things are worth spilling blood for."
The ending felt slightly abrupt, but fits nicely within the overall arc, as Circe makes a decision of where to etch herself in the fabric of mythology and legend.
"Of all the mortals on the earth, there are only a few the gods will ever hear of. Consider the practicalities. By the time we learn their names, they are dead. They must be meteors indeed to catch our attention. The merely good: you are dust to us."
It was difficult not to find yourself wanting to return to Aiaia again and again, to revel in the witchcraft and walk the beach in a suspension of disbelief -- all while knowing that every great saga must come to an end.
"The light darted silver from the waves. I lifted my hand in blessing and gave my son to the world."
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