Circe Review


 Mood:

This mythological book, with its gentle ink strokes spread across 335 pages, touched my heart and left me misty-eyed. There are not many books I’ve come across that compel me to savour them — to slow down, feel the weight of each word on my tongue, and let them settle deep within.


Anyone familiar with Greek mythology knows how deceitful and prideful the Titans and Gods can be. The tales are many: the punishment of Medusa, Arachne, and Prometheus; the countless lives destroyed by the whims of Hera and Zeus. Among these powerful, often merciless beings, Circe stands apart — an enigma.
Born to the Titan Helios and the nymph Perse, Circe was classified as a minor goddess with no notable power. Yet, as mythology tells us, she was banished by Zeus to the island of Aiaia — not because she was powerless, but because of his fear of her growing witchcraft.



Plot:


We follow Circe from the very beginning — an innocent child trailing after her father Helios — through her first love, the awakening of her power, her banishment, and the birth of her fears, revenge, and occult craft. We witness her as she learns to know herself, striving to understand both the mortal and immortal worlds. She wanders through her immortal life, and we wander through her.
This is a story of transformation — of how, against all odds, and despite being mistreated, deceived, and violated, she remained true to herself. She made grave mistakes, stood alone against those who harmed her, and still, she carved out a life worth telling.



Tone and Writing:

Told from a single point of view and written in the first person, the book adopts a gentle, almost meditative tone that I found deeply moving. Spanning over a millennium, it maintains this soothing voice throughout, never rushing, never shouting — just quietly unfolding Circe’s story with grace and care. The prose is sprinkled with beautiful lines and rich mythological details, making it a joy to savour slowly, one page at a time.


`Every moment mortals died, by shipwreck an sword, by wild beasts and wild men, by illness, neglect and age. It was their fate, as Prometheus had told me, the story that they all shared. No matter how vivid they were in life, no matter how brilliant, no matter the wonders they made, they came to dust and smoke. Meanwhile every petty and useless god would go on sucking down the bright air until the stars went dark.`



Circe wasn’t the kind of book that kept me up at night wondering what happens next? Instead, it took me on a gentle, month-long reading journey. There were days I set it aside, letting the story breathe — but every time I picked it up again, I was wholly engrossed. And when it ended, it left me with a quiet, satisfied heart.

`Circe, he says, it will be all right.`

Book Information:


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