Book Review: Circe by Madeline Miller

Genres: Fantasy, Mythology, Fiction
Pages: 393
Format: Ebook/Audiobook
Rating:

Goodreads summary: In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child–neither 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 with the mortals she has come to love.

Still in my Greek mythology era after reading The Song of Achilles (TSOA), which I still think about, I decided to pick up Circe. Now familiar with Miller’s writing style—slow to start but immersive after the first hundred pages—I went in expecting another well-written, Greek mythology retelling. I wasn’t disappointed, but it didn’t hit quite the same as TSOA.

I had never heard of Circe before reading this book. Based off the summary on the back of the book, I saw she was the daughter of Helios, who I knew to be the sun god, but that’s all I knew. I was looking forward to being introduced to a lesser-known figure in Greek mythology. My expectations were simply to learn her story—and I definitely did.

Quick Summary

In one sentence, Circe is the story of a woman who is too trusting, tries hard to see the good in others, but eventually learns to make the best of a life shaped by exile and loneliness.

It’s a great read for anyone who enjoys Greek mythology or literary fiction. Even though it centers around gods and monsters, there are plenty of human elements woven in like family conflict, betrayal, growth, and empowerment.

Plot & Pacing

The novel is a slow-burning, personal journey rather than an epic quest. And while I did find myself wishing for a little more action and dialogue at times, I came to appreciate that this story wasn’t about dramatic battles or grand adventure. It was about Circe herself—how she survived, learned, and evolved.

I liked the parallel between Circe and Prometheus. In this book we see Prometheus confess the truth to Zeus about him giving fire to humans. (Now what’s even more interesting to me and more of a side note is that according to Stephen Fry’s Mythos, Prometheus and Zeus were actually best friends, and so this betrayal really hurt Zeus. He didn’t want to punish Prometheus, but he had to.) We see how Circe admired Prometheus for telling the truth, and then she does the same thing when it comes to her turning Scylla into a monster. Even more so, no one believed her but she was adamant that it was her and she wanted to face her punishment for it. 

A lot of Circe’s story felt relatable. I often found myself frustrated by how trusting she was—like when she went to help her sister Pasiphaë give birth, despite Pasiphaë never treating her with any respect. But she became empowering to me as she learned to fight back. She stopped accepting the bad hands she was dealt, mastered her magic, adapted to her exile, and protected herself—like when she turned the men who tried to rape her into pigs. Her transformation into someone powerful and self-possessed was one of my favorite arcs.

Characters & Relationships

I really felt for Circe. She’s the classic black sheep of the family—picked on, insulted, ignored. Her mother didn’t care for her, her father barely liked her, and her siblings constantly bullied her. Even her one seemingly close bond, with her brother Aeëtes, ends in disappointment when he leaves for his kingdom and doesn’t even invite her to visit. And don’t get me started on Glaucos—I hated him.

Just when it seems like Circe might finally find love, she transforms Glaucos into a sea god so they can be together… and he still betrays her. The story really came alive for me when she was exiled and began to embrace her solitude. She made her animals her companions (the lion especially warmed my heart), honed her craft, and began truly living for herself. Her bond with her lion broke me—I was so sad when it died.

I appreciated the twist on Odysseus’s visit. While I wasn’t a fan of the infidelity aspect, I did find their dynamic compelling. Odysseus is usually portrayed as desperate to get back to Penelope, but this version shows him as more morally complex. His relationship with Circe and the storyline with their son Telemachus added new depth. I was glad Circe wasn’t alone anymore, but of course, her pregnancy was difficult, Daedalus’s early years were even harder, and eventually he wanted to leave to meet his father. Classic Circe luck.

Hermes was a fun character. Circe never expected more from him than what he offered, and as the messenger god, he worked well to deliver glimpses into the outside world while she was in isolation.

Comparison to The Song of Achilles

Compared to TSOA, this was slower and less emotional for me. There wasn’t a grand love story or heroic arc, but there was something quietly powerful about Circe’s resilience. TSOA felt more epic, while Circe felt more personal.

Final Thoughts & Rating

I give Circe 3 out of 5 deer-stars. While it was thoughtful, empowering, and well-written, some parts dragged for me. Still, it deepened my interest in mythology, and I followed it up with Stephen Fry’s Mythos (review coming soon!).

If you’re looking for a mythological story that centers on growth, isolation, and self-empowerment, Circe might be for you. Just prepare for a slow start with a steady, reflective pace throughout.