And wily Odysseus, on his epic voyage home. Turning to mortals for companionship, she risks defying her father for love, a path that leads her not to the marriage bed but to a discovery of a power forbidden to the gods: witchcraft.īanished by Zeus to the remote island of Aiaia, Circe refines her craft, fate entwining her with legends: the messenger god, Hermes.
With neither the look nor the voice of divinity, and scorned and rejected by her kin Circe is increasingly isolated. Yet, in the golden halls of gods and nymphs, Circe stands apart, as something separate, something new. In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born. When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist. Shortlisted for Waterstones Book of the Year 2018 Shortlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2019 What had Aeëtes called an ugly nymph? A stain upon the face of the world.Waterstones Fiction Book of the Month for April 2019 I looked down at my body and tried to imagine it written over with its history: my palm with its lightning streak, my hand missing its fingers, the thousand cuts from my witch-work, the gristled furrows of my father’s fire And those were only the things that had left marks.
He kept them on his person as other men keep their knives. I might have told him, in those hours, stories of my own His face would be intent as he listened, his relentless mind examining, weighing and cataloguing He would gather my weaknesses up and set them with the rest of his collection, alongside Achilles’ and Ajax’s. Whoever saw him must salute and say: There is a man who has seen the world. Enduring Odysseus, he was, and the name was stitched into his skin. The scars themselves I offered to wipe away.
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