So. Circe. Have you heard of this huge bestseller that’s winning all kinds of awards from people who normally don’t read fantasy (this is definitely a fantasy, sorry all you “lit fic” people)? It’s really nothing more than a straight retelling of a series of classic Greek myths. No reinvention or retelling or reinterpretation. Well, to be fair, it’s definitely modern, and the author goes to great pains to make sure we understand that the main character is a strong, modern woman who doesn’t need a man to complete her.
So why the crazy popularity?
Honestly? I don’t know. It’s a well-told story, certainly. The language is beautiful. But initially I thought I would hate it. The story is very self-consciously a postmodern fable, so much so that it almost crumbles under its own ideological weight. Exhibit A: Sloppy trope #1. During a conversation between Circe and her sister, it is made clear to the reader that power games between men and women form the backbone to all existence. The only recourse for Circe to get out of this reality is… you guessed it! Transcendent Sex!
Rather than leaving that there, Miller then also proceeds with sloppy trope #2: obligatory rape scene at the hands of brutish male, who, it seems, is supposed to represent all of mankind on an intrinsic level. (#Gillette, anyone?)
But then, something strange happened. Miller got back to telling a story, not preaching a feminist fable. And, guess what! She’s a great storyteller. The romance between Odysseus and Circe is truly wonderful. It’s subtle, serious literature that is a rich commentary on human nature. Her experience raising her son is harrowing and almost too realistic. She stops being a cardboard cutout for the purpose of pushing an ideology and becomes a real person.
Toward the end, I was almost ecstatic. It looked like Miller was going to go the way of the eucatastrophe and actually give the book an end that Tolkien would have been proud of. Was she really going to elevate this book so that it could actually be included in a conversation with Homer himself?
Alas, no. The ending was vague, unsatisfying, and more about self-actualization and divinity-bashing than anything interesting or transcendent. And so, this book is one of the better books I’ve read this year. But it could have been a top ten book of all time. It wasn’t, unfortunately.
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