Circe in Greek Mythology: Witchcraft and ... Misogyny?

The actual stories are unfortunately not as kind as Madeline Miller's novel

I was never a big Greek mythology kid, so I never had a lot of background on the topic. It’s not that I was particularly disinterested in it, but for some reason I never read many of the stories. However, when a professor that I loved recommended me to read Circe by Madeline Miller, I made sure to find the book and buy it. I was worried that my lack of background knowledge would make the plot incomprehensible, so I also read some background about Greek gods and goddesses before diving into the story. This was fairly unnecessary because Miller does a good job giving context and including some relevant background information in the back of the book. Her storytelling enraptured me, and I ended up really enjoying the book. I loved the story of this banished, powerful, jaded daughter of Helios and how she managed to survive alone on Aiaia, her island, as she perfected her witchcraft. As I was trying to think of a topic for my next post, I thought it would be fun to read into the actual myths of Circe. They’d be just as empowering, right?

Well, no. I doubt anyone is surprised about that though.

The first article I read was one written by Madeline Miller herself. This LitHub article details her experience reading The Odyssey and being immensely disappointed by the way that the powerful and invigorating witch just bowed down to Odysseys, a mortal man, after he unsheathed his sword. Miller explains how she expected “a real duel, a battle of wits between two clever, headstrong people” when Hermes taught Odysseus how to become immune to her sorcery after he landed his ship on Aiaia. Instead, she read in dismay about how Odysseus pulled out his sword and Circe “wailed, begging for mercy, and offered to take him to her bed.” She recalls hating that section of the story and feeling betrayed by how “suddenly she has to kneel and offer herself to him.” This scene painted a stark contrast with what I read in Circe. In the novel, she was more powerful, demanding, and all those other things men feared seeing in women. She didn’t exactly win, as they were at a standstill, but there was respect. Odysseus admitted men are fools and apologized to Circe, and their relationship began as equals. There certainly wasn’t any kneeling or drawing swords, which Miller says in her LitHub article are clearly sexual innuendos. After reading this article, I wanted to look up another retelling of the myth. Many of the stories have slight deviations, so I wondered if the story she read was more or less misogynistic than other accounts.

An image of Odysseus and Circe from Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes, a book by Edith Hamilton

I decided to look up Circe in a book I own, Edith Hamilton’s Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes. Circe is first described as “a most beautiful and most dangerous witch.” Her beauty is not a focal point in Miller’s novel — but rather her lack of it — so I didn’t realize she was renowned for her beauty in the myth. It goes on to say how Odysseus and his men landed on the island, and the men sent out to spy on the land were invited by Circe to a dinner party and turned into swine. One of the men didn’t join the party and fled back to the boat to tell the others what happened. Odysseus goes out on his own and is given a protective herb from Hermes. He is to draw his sword upon her once she realizes her power doesn’t work on him and demand his men back. However, she is so amazed that the spell didn’t work on Odysseus that she falls in love with him and is willing to do whatever he asks. The wording of that part of the story felt icky, as if inside of this powerful woman was a small girl that wanted to follow the whim of a man who can resist her. There is no mutual respect, only blind adoration that makes it seem like she were the one under the spell. At least, in the following paragraphs, she is given credit for sharing her knowledge to help Odysseus make his way home. It is not directly stated, but I’m not sure if he would have been to able to weather the journey without her wisdom. Although she is still disempowered incredibly quickly, she doesn’t have to kneel and gets some credit. Basically, it takes another female classicist to make the story less misogynistic than it originally was.

After reading about these various retellings, I think it is shocking how, in the original, Circe is so quick to succumb to defeat. If she were a man, it probably would’ve taken more than just a sword to make her kneel. As such an advanced witch, she could’ve had more tricks up her sleeve, figuratively or literally. It just immediately crumbles any sense of her being powerful and of her being potentially equal to a man. I think it serves as a way to make women feel like they are still secondary to men, no matter how much power they think they have. It’s disappointing to see someone accept failure so quickly and without dignity. Even if she was powerful, she still had to seem emotional, fragile, and fearful because she was a woman. I’m glad that Miller decided to give Circe the respect and dignity she would have deserved in the original story. I’m glad her version is the one I read first because it wasn’t disappointing. Women deserve to have power, authority, and respect in writing, whether it’s in ancient or modern stories. It’s been time to start rewriting things and giving women back their power, and luckily some women have begun the process.