Monday: rain, book group
Nov. 23rd, 2020 11:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
walkitoutIt rained today. M. came for a visit, but we did not walk. I did get a long walk by myself after book group. The rain had stopped in the afternoon and it was mostly dry. There were a surprising number of people out and about around 9 pm including a couple small children (with an adult).
TRIGGER WARNING SEXUAL VIOLENCE ALSO SPOILERS
Book group was fun; we had a group of 5. Our selection was Madeline Miller’s _Circe_. While I had Issues (I always do! In this case, there is a rape, and there are two disturbing descriptions of difficult births — the births had nothing to do with the rape, so there is that, I suppose, and also there is the revenge fantasy satisfaction of turning the rapist and his gang of thugs into pigs), I finished the book and I found it very thought-provoking.
Miller’s book is a life-history (fictional, duh) of Circe, a Witch Goddess of ancient Greece. Obviously, with a lot of sources for stories of Greek gods, goddess, heroes, etc., there are variant family relationships, and variant stories. Miller maintains a high degree of fidelity to her source material, however, with internal contradictions, choices must be made. Also, Miller has created a timeline for the mortals in her story (notably: Odysseus, his wife Penelope, their son Telemachus, and the son that Odysseus fathers with Circe, Telegonus) that makes it basically impossible for Telegonus’ siblings to exist. So they don’t. It also makes the marriage between Telegonus and Penelope not really plausible, so that does not happen either. There are some other changes — the stingray that is used to poison the spear that ultimately kills Odysseus when Telegonus goes to meet him is not just any stingray. Actually, not really a stingray at all. Which is fine! And Circe is inserted into some other stories as well — the transformations of Glaucos and Scylla, for example. I have zero issues with the modifications that Miller has introduced.
In general, _Circe_ can be read as a retelling of The Odyssey, in which Circe is the viewpoint character. The events leading up to the Trojan War, the War, and the aftermath of the War are all present, but instead of seeing it through the eyes of Odysseus, a short-sighted trickster who bumbles his way around the Mediterranean claiming he is trying to get home to his wife and son, while doing basically anything but that (and who upon his arrival home treats his neighbors with shocking violence), we see it as part of the background of a witch goddess who has been exiled to an island. She can’t leave. A lot of the people who show up on her island are there for reasons that are in no way good for her. And she has a lot to learn.
But where Odysseus is a violent asshole who is in every way untrustworthy and attracts followers and hangers on who are notable primarily for being even more impulsive and awful than he is, Circe suffers from endless shame and a pervasive loathing both of herself and everyone else, but tries to be kind and helpful and learn from what happens to her. Because this is the Mediterranean in ancient times, it is a pretty sketchy project! But her impulse to understand mortals eventually develops her ability to connect to others, and she finds some happiness and satisfaction in her son Telegonus, her friend and mentee Penelope, and her husband Telemachus, and their children together after she becomes mortal (I did mention spoilers).
There are a lot of female relationships in this book that have incredible intensity: the animosity between Circe and her older sister, and between Circe and her mother, between Circe and Scylla, Circe’s affection and admiration for her niece Ariadne, the decade and a half standoff between Athena and Circe over Telegonus’ life, the friendship and mentorship between Circe and Penelope. The absolution that Circe provides to Medea and Jason is not as intense, but it is clear that encounter, while brief, really burned its way into Circe, when she asks what the poets say about Medea. Also, there is that very long friendship with her lioness.
Taking the character of Circe and re-envisioning it, and the world of ancient Greece over the the long arc leading up to, through, and after the Trojan War, and then describing that world through her experience of it invites the reader to engage in similar projects with other stories that relegate women to the background, misrepresent their motives, and fail to tell the full arc of their lives. It is delightfully subversive. I’m not sure I would have ever chosen to read this book on my own (rape, difficult births, but also just every time someone reworks classics, rather than start anew, I get a little eye-roll-y), but I in no way regret the time I have spent reading and thinking about this retelling.
TRIGGER WARNING SEXUAL VIOLENCE ALSO SPOILERS
Book group was fun; we had a group of 5. Our selection was Madeline Miller’s _Circe_. While I had Issues (I always do! In this case, there is a rape, and there are two disturbing descriptions of difficult births — the births had nothing to do with the rape, so there is that, I suppose, and also there is the revenge fantasy satisfaction of turning the rapist and his gang of thugs into pigs), I finished the book and I found it very thought-provoking.
Miller’s book is a life-history (fictional, duh) of Circe, a Witch Goddess of ancient Greece. Obviously, with a lot of sources for stories of Greek gods, goddess, heroes, etc., there are variant family relationships, and variant stories. Miller maintains a high degree of fidelity to her source material, however, with internal contradictions, choices must be made. Also, Miller has created a timeline for the mortals in her story (notably: Odysseus, his wife Penelope, their son Telemachus, and the son that Odysseus fathers with Circe, Telegonus) that makes it basically impossible for Telegonus’ siblings to exist. So they don’t. It also makes the marriage between Telegonus and Penelope not really plausible, so that does not happen either. There are some other changes — the stingray that is used to poison the spear that ultimately kills Odysseus when Telegonus goes to meet him is not just any stingray. Actually, not really a stingray at all. Which is fine! And Circe is inserted into some other stories as well — the transformations of Glaucos and Scylla, for example. I have zero issues with the modifications that Miller has introduced.
In general, _Circe_ can be read as a retelling of The Odyssey, in which Circe is the viewpoint character. The events leading up to the Trojan War, the War, and the aftermath of the War are all present, but instead of seeing it through the eyes of Odysseus, a short-sighted trickster who bumbles his way around the Mediterranean claiming he is trying to get home to his wife and son, while doing basically anything but that (and who upon his arrival home treats his neighbors with shocking violence), we see it as part of the background of a witch goddess who has been exiled to an island. She can’t leave. A lot of the people who show up on her island are there for reasons that are in no way good for her. And she has a lot to learn.
But where Odysseus is a violent asshole who is in every way untrustworthy and attracts followers and hangers on who are notable primarily for being even more impulsive and awful than he is, Circe suffers from endless shame and a pervasive loathing both of herself and everyone else, but tries to be kind and helpful and learn from what happens to her. Because this is the Mediterranean in ancient times, it is a pretty sketchy project! But her impulse to understand mortals eventually develops her ability to connect to others, and she finds some happiness and satisfaction in her son Telegonus, her friend and mentee Penelope, and her husband Telemachus, and their children together after she becomes mortal (I did mention spoilers).
There are a lot of female relationships in this book that have incredible intensity: the animosity between Circe and her older sister, and between Circe and her mother, between Circe and Scylla, Circe’s affection and admiration for her niece Ariadne, the decade and a half standoff between Athena and Circe over Telegonus’ life, the friendship and mentorship between Circe and Penelope. The absolution that Circe provides to Medea and Jason is not as intense, but it is clear that encounter, while brief, really burned its way into Circe, when she asks what the poets say about Medea. Also, there is that very long friendship with her lioness.
Taking the character of Circe and re-envisioning it, and the world of ancient Greece over the the long arc leading up to, through, and after the Trojan War, and then describing that world through her experience of it invites the reader to engage in similar projects with other stories that relegate women to the background, misrepresent their motives, and fail to tell the full arc of their lives. It is delightfully subversive. I’m not sure I would have ever chosen to read this book on my own (rape, difficult births, but also just every time someone reworks classics, rather than start anew, I get a little eye-roll-y), but I in no way regret the time I have spent reading and thinking about this retelling.