BookPage Top Pick in Fiction, April 2018

Madeline Miller's enthralling second novel may be about a goddess, but it has a lot to say about what it means to be a woman. In Circe, the acclaimed author of The Song of Achilles (which won the Orange Prize in 2012) unfurls the story of the legendary witch from Homer's "Odyssey" with lyric intensity.

Circe grows up in the palace of her father, the sun god Helios, listening to stories of the legendary fall of the Titans and conflicts among the gods. Like all immortals, Helios is ruthless, capricious and obsessed with maintaining his status. Circe, a goddess without exceptional beauty or discernible power, is sidelined in his court, unworthy of even being married off. It isn't until Circe falls in love with a mortal that she realizes she has the ability to bless or harm others through transfiguration—a discovery that causes her to be labeled a threat. Helios exiles her to a remote island; there, she is able to further develop her skills with pharmakeia, the art of using plants and herbs to perform magic.

Though sailors occasionally attempt to seek shelter on her island's shores, Circe protects herself by transforming any men with bad intentions into pigs. As centuries roll by, key encounters with gods and humans alike punctuate her isolated existence—a meeting with Medea and a shocking midwifery scene are particularly mesmerizing. Eventually, Circe's connections with others force her to embrace her powers, breach her exile and choose her destiny.

Miller, who studied classics at Brown University and teaches high school Greek and Latin, paints a vivid picture of classical Greece: the mindset of its people, the beauty of its landscapes, the details of daily tasks. The elemental allure of mythology, with its magic and mystery and questions of fate and free will, is presented here with added freshness that comes from seeing this world from a female perspective. Like its heroine, this is a novel to underestimate at your peril.

 

This article was originally published in the April 2018 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

We love many fictional characters, but when it comes to Thanksgiving dinner, it takes a special person to earn a place at our families' tables. These characters would get our plus-ones. Now, who remembers if we pass to the left or right?

Barbie Chang from Barbie Chang
By Victoria Chang
For the eponymous main character in Chang's poetry collection, being a child is about grieving and caring for an ailing mother; for me, childhood was particularly the latter. My mother gratefully calls me a hero for doing something as simple as writing her resume or taking care of her when she's sick. My conversation with Barbie Chang would be about not only the mother-child relationship, but also distance and sacrifice, "how quickly the air // around [us fills] in the space afterwards" when our mothers leave—Barbie Chang's mother in death, mine as I matriculate into adulthood—and the sacrifices mothers make. I want to have dinner with Barbie Chang, and I also cannot wait to have dinner with my mother. —Prince, Editorial Intern

Helen Loomis from Dandelion Wine
By Ray Bradbury
I consider this summery, small-town novel to be Bradbury's masterpiece, its series of short stories offering some of the most beloved, idyllic scenes in my reading memory, from a paean to mowing the grass to the hopeful creation of a "Happiness Machine." Some tales crackle with the discovery of being alive, while others curl into the bittersweetness of memory and old age. In one story, we meet 95-year-old Helen Loomis, who is like a Miss Rumphius who speaks graciously, openly and ever kindly about her long and eventful life, the loneliness and freedom of her travels, her wildness and never marrying. Her story is one of love—and everyone at my family dinner would fall totally and helplessly in love with her. —Cat, Deputy Editor

Ralph S. Mouse from The Mouse and the Motorcycle
By Beverly Cleary
My family likes animals. When my dad was in college, he had a rooster named Jack who lived in his apartment. Later, he and my mom had a kinkajou named Pooh Bear who slept in the cabinets. I've picked up the exotic animal baton by adopting two chinchillas (Rupert and Terrence Howard). So if I had to bring a guest of honor to dinner, my family would certainly appreciate if it were a mouse. There are, of course, many fine mice in literature, but Ralph S. Mouse is the obvious standout choice. He's cute, he has great stories about escaping danger (essential for an ideal dinner guest), and best of all—at least in my Suzuki-driving family—he can do motorcycle tricks. —Christy, Associate Editor

Gansey from The Raven Boys
By Maggie Stiefvater
Under the right circumstances, I'd love to meet any of Stiefvater's Raven Cycle protagonists, but Richard Campbell Gansey III is the only one who'd be at ease in any social situation, including dinner with my family. For example: "Because of his money and his good family name, because of his handsome smile and his easy laugh, because he liked people and . . . they liked him back, Gansey could have had any and all of the friends that he wanted." He'd bring flowers for my mother. He'd call my father "sir." He'd compliment the meal and offer to help with the dishes. And after dinner, driving me home in his beat-up Camaro, he'd ask, a gleam in his eye, "How much do you know about dead Welsh kings?" —Stephanie, Associate Editor

Circe from Circe
By Madeline Miller
There is probably no one with a more extensive or fascinating array of stories to tell at the Thanksgiving table than Circe. In Miller's gorgeous reimagining of the legendary sorceress, Circe encounters Medea, Odysseus, Hermes, Athena and many more iconic figures. She is witness to some of the most well-known stories in Greek mythology, and through Miller's clear-eyed, rigorously researched perspective, figures of fable become complicated, contradictory beings of flesh and blood (or ichor) rather than cold marble. Also, it's important to note that many characters are either deeply dismissive of or outright hostile to poor, exiled Circe. As such, she quite frankly deserves a nice family meal where she can sit back and be the highly deserved center of love and attention. —Savanna, Assistant Editor

We love many fictional characters, but when it comes to Thanksgiving dinner, it takes a special person to earn a place at our families' tables. These characters would get our plus-ones. Now, who remembers if we pass to the left or right?

Barbie Chang from Barbie Chang
By Victoria Chang
For the eponymous main character in Chang's poetry collection, being a child is about grieving and caring for an ailing mother; for me, childhood was particularly the latter. My mother gratefully calls me a hero for doing something as simple as writing her resume or taking care of her when she's sick. My conversation with Barbie Chang would be about not only the mother-child relationship, but also distance and sacrifice, "how quickly the air // around [us fills] in the space afterwards" when our mothers leave—Barbie Chang's mother in death, mine as I matriculate into adulthood—and the sacrifices mothers make. I want to have dinner with Barbie Chang, and I also cannot wait to have dinner with my mother. —Prince, Editorial Intern

Helen Loomis from Dandelion Wine
By Ray Bradbury
I consider this summery, small-town novel to be Bradbury's masterpiece, its series of short stories offering some of the most beloved, idyllic scenes in my reading memory, from a paean to mowing the grass to the hopeful creation of a "Happiness Machine." Some tales crackle with the discovery of being alive, while others curl into the bittersweetness of memory and old age. In one story, we meet 95-year-old Helen Loomis, who is like a Miss Rumphius who speaks graciously, openly and ever kindly about her long and eventful life, the loneliness and freedom of her travels, her wildness and never marrying. Her story is one of love—and everyone at my family dinner would fall totally and helplessly in love with her. —Cat, Deputy Editor

Ralph S. Mouse from The Mouse and the Motorcycle
By Beverly Cleary
My family likes animals. When my dad was in college, he had a rooster named Jack who lived in his apartment. Later, he and my mom had a kinkajou named Pooh Bear who slept in the cabinets. I've picked up the exotic animal baton by adopting two chinchillas (Rupert and Terrence Howard). So if I had to bring a guest of honor to dinner, my family would certainly appreciate if it were a mouse. There are, of course, many fine mice in literature, but Ralph S. Mouse is the obvious standout choice. He's cute, he has great stories about escaping danger (essential for an ideal dinner guest), and best of all—at least in my Suzuki-driving family—he can do motorcycle tricks. —Christy, Associate Editor

Gansey from The Raven Boys
By Maggie Stiefvater
Under the right circumstances, I'd love to meet any of Stiefvater's Raven Cycle protagonists, but Richard Campbell Gansey III is the only one who'd be at ease in any social situation, including dinner with my family. For example: "Because of his money and his good family name, because of his handsome smile and his easy laugh, because he liked people and . . . they liked him back, Gansey could have had any and all of the friends that he wanted." He'd bring flowers for my mother. He'd call my father "sir." He'd compliment the meal and offer to help with the dishes. And after dinner, driving me home in his beat-up Camaro, he'd ask, a gleam in his eye, "How much do you know about dead Welsh kings?" —Stephanie, Associate Editor

Circe from Circe
By Madeline Miller
There is probably no one with a more extensive or fascinating array of stories to tell at the Thanksgiving table than Circe. In Miller's gorgeous reimagining of the legendary sorceress, Circe encounters Medea, Odysseus, Hermes, Athena and many more iconic figures. She is witness to some of the most well-known stories in Greek mythology, and through Miller's clear-eyed, rigorously researched perspective, figures of fable become complicated, contradictory beings of flesh and blood (or ichor) rather than cold marble. Also, it's important to note that many characters are either deeply dismissive of or outright hostile to poor, exiled Circe. As such, she quite frankly deserves a nice family meal where she can sit back and be the highly deserved center of love and attention. —Savanna, Assistant Editor

Classics, anyone? Actually, classics, everyone; Miller's last title, The Song of Achilles, won the Orange Prize and was a New York Times best seller. Born into the house of Helios, god of the sun, Circe lacks the power of those around her and prefers human companions. Then she discovers she has the gift of witchcraft and is soon banished to a desert island, where she encounters famed figures in Greek mythology. With a 75,000-copy first printing.

Having reinterpreted Homer's Iliad in her Orange Prize-winning The Song of Achilles, Miller now turns her attention to the Odyssey from the perspective of Circe, the sorceress who changed Odysseus's men into swine. The daughter of the sun god Helios and the nymph Perse, Circe is despised by her parents and siblings for her less-than-divine abilities. Seeking comfort in human companionship, she discovers her own special powers of witchcraft when she turns Glaucus, the mortal man she loves, into a sea god. But Circe's tranformation of Scylla, her rival for Glaucos's affections, into a monster, leads to her banishment to the deserted island of Aiaia. Over the centuries, she hones her magical skills while encountering some of the most famous figures in classical mythology, including the Minotaur, Daedalus, Medea, and, of course, the crafty Odysseus. Along the way, Circe evolves into the powerful witch feared by the Olympian gods. But after a lifetime of lonely immortality, is this enough for Circe? Her final act of transformation will move and surprise readers. VERDICT This beautifully written and absorbing tale of gods and mortals will delight Miller's many fans and have them reaching for Edith Hamilton's Mythology. [See Prepub Alert, 10/22/17; "Editors' Spring Picks," LJ 2/1/17.]—Wilda Williams, Library Journal

Miller follows her impressive debut (The Song of Achilles) with a spirited novel about Circe's evolution from insignificant nymph to formidable witch best known for turning Odysseus's sailors into swine. Her narrative begins with a description of growing up the awkward daughter of Helios, the sun god. She does not discover her gift for pharmakeia (the art of using herbs and spells) until she transforms her first love, a poor fisherman, into a god. When he rejects her in favor of vain Scylla, Circe turns Scylla into a sea monster. Now considered dangerous, Circe is exiled to an island, where she experiments with local flora and fauna. After returning from a visit to Crete to help her sister give birth to the Minotaur, Circe is joined on the island by errant nymphs sentenced to do their penance in her service. By the time Odysseus's ship arrives, winding its way home from the Trojan War, Circe reigns over a prosperous household. Welcome guests enjoy her hospitality; unwelcome guests are turned into wild pigs. Neither the goddess Athena nor the deadliest poison known to man makes Circe flinch. Weaving together Homer's tale with other sources, Miller crafts a classic story of female empowerment. She paints an uncompromising portrait of a superheroine who learns to wield divine power while coming to understand what it means to be mortal. Agent: Julie Barer, the Book Group.(Apr.)

Circe, daughter of the sun god Helios, mightiest of the Titans, was a peculiar child who had few of the gifts the demigods enjoyed, and she was despised by her parents and numerous sisters for her deficits. What she lacked in godlike ability, though, she compensated for with a gift for herbology and witchcraft. When she is rejected by her first love, the mortal Glaucos—who pines instead for the beautiful nymph Scylla—Circe casts a spell that turns Scylla into a hideous sea creature. For her transgression, Circe is banished by Zeus to an island, where she survives alone until Odysseus, "son of Laertes, the great traveler, prince of wiles and tricks," lands upon her shores and is seduced by her. Drawing on the mythology of the classical world, Miller deftly weaves episodes of war, treachery, monsters, gods, demigods, heroes, and mortals into her second novel of the ancient world (after the Orange Prize—winning The Song of Achilles). Prometheus and Medea are among those who also make an appearance here. VERDICT This absorbing and atmospheric read will appeal to lovers of Greek mythology.—Jane Henriksen Baird, formerly at Anchorage Public Library, AK