Yzabel / January 31, 2018

Review: Circe

CirceCirce by Madeline Miller

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. But Circe is a strange child–not powerful, like her father, nor viciously alluring like her mother. Turning to the world of mortals for companionship, she discovers that she does possess power–the power of witchcraft, which can transform rivals into monsters and menace the gods themselves.

Threatened, Zeus banishes her to a deserted island, where she hones her occult craft, tames wild beasts and crosses paths with many of the most famous figures in all of mythology, including the Minotaur, Daedalus and his doomed son Icarus, the murderous Medea, and, of course, wily Odysseus.

But there is danger, too, for a woman who stands alone, and Circe unwittingly draws the wrath of both men and gods, ultimately finding herself pitted against one of the most terrifying and vengeful of the Olympians. To protect what she loves most, Circe must summon all her strength and choose, once and for all, whether she belongs with the gods she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through Edelweiss.]

A few years ago, I had read and really liked “The Song of Achilles”, and I had high hopes for Miller’s “Circe”. I wasn’t disappointed.

A retelling of myths surrounded Circe, daughter of sun-god Helios and nymph Perses, this novel focuses of course on the eponymous character, from a much more humanised point of view, making her closer to us and easier to root for. I haven’t brushed up on my Greek mythology in quite some time, and my memories of what I knew about Circe were a bit foggy, but I quickly found my marks again—the deities she’s surrounded with, the mortals she meets (Odysseus being the most famous), as well as slight variations (although I don’t remember reading myths where Circe and Daedalus meet, that was definitely a touching addition, and not an illogical one anyway).

I do remember how, when I was much younger and got interested in Greek mythology, most of the legends I read were the usual male-centric ones, with figures like Circe or Medusa presented as antagonists, somewhat evil and monstrous, impediments to the heroes’ journeys. So whenever I get my hands on a retelling from their point of view, and it happens to be humanised and qualified *and* well-written on top of that, as is the case here, I’m definitely happy about it. Here, turning Odysseus’ men is much less an act of evil than a way for Circe to defend herself before the sailors do to her what previous sailors did (and she doesn’t do it immediately, she does ‘give them a chance’ and studies them first to see how they’re going to behave). Here, the heroes are larger than life, but through Circe’s gaze, we also see their mortality and the imperfections that go with it, the difference between what the bards sing of them and the men they actually were.

No one is perfect in this story; not Circe herself, not the gods, not the humans. In a way, even though half the cast is made of immortal deities, this novel is a study of humanity. Circe’s voice—a voice the gods perceive as shrilly, but is in fact, all that simply, a mortal’s voice, soft and weak compared to theirs—has a haunting quality, too, thanks to the poetic and evocative prose that carries the story. And so it takes us through her contradictions, her pain and hopes, her realisation that she’ll never get her father’s approval, her exile, and her lingering her regrets at what she did in the past (Miller went here with a version similar to Hyginus’, making Circe the cause to Scylla’s transformation, as well as Glaucus’ through her first act of witchcraft). From a little girl neglected by her parents and bullied by her siblings, she goes through life making mistakes, angry and exiled, but also learns from this, and becomes in time a wiser person, who won’t hesitate to stand up for what she cares for, using her magic to better ends.

This read was perhaps a little confusing without more than just a basic notions about Greek mythology (the glossary at the end helps, though). I’m also not entirely happy with the ending, which I probably would have enjoyed more had it been reversed. Nevertheless, I found it mostly enjoyable and enthralling.

Yzabel / March 13, 2014

Review: Please Don’t Tell My Parents I’m A Supervillain

Please Don't Tell My Parents I'm a SupervillainPlease Don’t Tell My Parents I’m a Supervillain by Richard Roberts

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

Penelope Akk wants to be a superhero. She’s got superhero parents. She’s got the ultimate mad science power, filling her life with crazy gadgets even she doesn’t understand. She has two super-powered best friends. In middle school, the line between good and evil looks clear.

In real life, nothing is that clear. All it takes is one hero’s sidekick picking a fight, and Penny and her friends are labeled supervillains. In the process, Penny learns a hard lesson about villainy: She’s good at it.

Criminal masterminds, heroes in power armor, bottles of dragon blood, alien war drones, shapeshifters and ghosts, no matter what the super powered world throws at her, Penny and her friends come out on top. They have to. If she can keep winning, maybe she can clear her name before her mom and dad find out.

Review:

(I got a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

I found this book to be a very entertaining and refreshing read, focused on the characters’ adventures, and likely something I’d have thoroughly enjoyed in middle school—well, I did enjoy it now, after all. In my opinion, it definitely reaches its aim of providing younger readers with likeable characters, all with their specific traits. Penny, the mad scientist, whose power works in spurts of genius, and whose voice throughout the story I quickly grew fond of. Claire, cute but also resourceful, especially when it comes to using connections to the team’s advantage. Ray, who simply was, well, classy, and whose take on circumstances was definitely contagious. At the same time, I could tell they were kids, reacting like kids getting powers, and wanting to have fun with those before it was time to get all serious and act like grown-ups.

Paradoxically, the fact they were kids made the community’s reaction to their presence somewhat more believable: with heroes and villains alike used to fighting each other with magic and “adult” powers, throwing in kid-like actions in the middle can be unsettling, and difficult to predict. The Inscrutable Machine did exactly that. As for the heroes/villain community itself, your mileage may vary on the “believability scale”. Personally, I found it mostly made sense in its own way: with both sides having super powers, at some point you have to reach some kind of agreement to avoid really wreaking havoc with no one the winner at the end. (That, and the alien invasion in the past, which seemed to have forced them to cooperate.)

Another likeable side of the story was how it really focused on its premise, a.k.a. teenagers accidentally labelled as supervillains, then deciding to play the part until they could “see the errors of their ways and become heroes”. I’ve read too many books that start off with something interesting like that, then veer off toward teenage drama/love stories, with those not being the reason why I picked them in the first place. There is a touch of romantic interest here, but it’s subtle, and played in a somewhat comical way, so it agreed with me in the end.

The few qualms I had about this novel were mostly related to the adults’ reactions. While some of them were understandable (Brian being too focused on his own science, too much of an air-head when it comes to relationships; the Minx as a playful, secret-loving woman who found fun in what her kid was going through; Lucyfar, who openly plays on her ambiguity as a villain who occasionally does good, so she’s left alone…), I thought the Audit, on the other hand, was too oblivious to what was happening. It would’ve worked if she had had a different personality, but I wondered why she, among all the others, didn’t catch that something was going the wrong way? Perhaps this could have been played a little differently. I also wondered about Ray’s family: he seemed frightened of their reaction, and so I wish we had had more of a glimpse into that, more explanations. (Unless this book’s meant to have a sequel, in which case this question might get an answer later, but I don’t know about that yet.)

I’d give this story a 3.5 stars, because of those problems that kept nagging at me. However, I’m still rounding it to a 4. I had fun, plain and simple; I think younger readers would have fun, too; and so I think this has to factor in.