Sachi Robinson Period 6 12.5.2023
“Circe” for me so far has been a very relatable coming-of-age book. Throughout the first seven chapters, I felt as if I were growing up alongside Circe, despite the over a thousand-year difference. Madeline Miller captures all of the insecurities of a teenage girl navigating love, abuse, and insecurity. Prior to reading this novel, I had never given Circe much thought, as she acts as a plot device half of the time, assisting gods and heroes on their quests with her magic and knowledge. As I read, though, I find that, similar to "StoneBlind," it brings a voice to yet another woman who was drowned out by warcries. This was a phrase emphasized by Haynes in her interviews: the way a woman could be loud and it’s called a screech or unnecessary, but the second a man does it, it’s something macho and meaningful.
Madeline Miller is an author who works to modernize Greek stories by taking their themes and reimagining them. Most Greek stories hold heavy themes that are still applicable today and are just separated by the generations of language evolution; she dissects them and makes them palatable for the larger audience. Miller has stated that she writes for her interest in the story and passion for having a deeper understanding of it. This, to me, was similar to the motivation of Natalie Haynes that we learned about in class. Haynes works to reimagine the story in a way that changes minds and forces readers to question the origins of their perspectives. Both have an inspiring passion for history and language and bring a different, more sympathetic approach to the study of ancient mythology. The book also passed the Bechdel test, which is a trivial media test that doesn't mean much in the grand scheme of things. It consists of three rules: women must be in the story; they must speak to each other; and the conversation must not be about a man. I can appreciate Circe’s level-headed approach to relationships and how, after some time alone, she is able to navigate them in a way that doesn’t sacrifice her character. She is her own person, and she can love without giving herself up. I feel this is very respectable, and I strive to reach it in all forms of relationships.
It is very satisfying to see the development of a girl who craves validation and love from those around her blossom into a woman who has honed her skills and harnessed them for herself. This change really occurs for Circe in Chapter 14. It seemed like the whole time I was reading, I was continually gasping and clutching the book. It begins with Circe receiving her first servant, a lesser nymph whose father banished her to Circe's island. Despite taking up her space and resources, she really doesn’t respect Circe, which is frustrating because it’s a common troupe among women. In the media, women are pitted against each other and portrayed as catty and petty. Most of the time, it's situations where they are neither at fault, and an outside hand holds a large part in them (usually a man or patriarchal structure), and yet they often turn on each other. There is a clear enemy, and Circe didn’t deserve any backlash or disrespect. As more and more nymphs show up, they encroach on her personal space and, therefore, her growth as she navigates her motives and place in the world. They were forced upon her, and she did not have a say in the matter. As a reader, I was compelled to sympathize with her, despite the fact that she would snap at the girls and neglect them. She had initially been neglected by her father, yet she was expected to uphold certain expectations and responsibilities. This resonated with me to some extent. After the birth of my siblings, I was unsure about my role in the household. I felt the pressure of caring for siblings while still trying to figure out who I was. All of a sudden I was a role model, a babysitter, and someone who had to be very mindful of my words, as you never know what’ll be a core memory or what will shape their personality. I never really felt connected to my father as a child, as I didn’t see him as very present. There are countless memories of me setting the table only to eat dinner next to an empty plate. In reality, my contributions were most likely not to any crazy extent, but it was very daunting for me at the time.
At the end of the chapter, Circe welcomes a large group of men into her home. She paid no heed to the dangers of that and, in fact, dismissed the other girls to relish in the men’s praise. I felt very connected to this because I would classify myself as a people-pleaser. I could easily see myself getting caught up in a whirlwind of praise and serving others and ending up in a similar situation. It's a really scary world out there, and I appreciate Miller's commitment to telling it as it is, and her writing was so intricately captivating that I got choked up. She got her revenge, and it serves as almost a turning point in the story. I expect her to be more guarded and in tune with her needs from here on out.
