I adored the beginning of this book, I felt completely entranced in this world that Madeline Miller had created and I found Circe incredibly interesting. And then the story began to wain, but I was still decently entertained, until the story became about every man Circe encountered in her life and their stories began to eclipse hers. 

The more I reflect on this story the more I’m baffled by how it’s regarded as a feminist text, when Circe’s life is effectively broken up only by her relationships with men, and that is never truly reckoned with in the text. There’s no commentary from Miller about what it means for a woman to only be deemed worthy through which men she can seduce (for lack of a better term) and to be judged as less worthy because she’s a woman. Every now and then there might be a stray comment, but no thread truly woven throughout the story. 

I wanted to love this book, but I’m let down by a protagonist who didn’t truly feel like a protagonist and a story that didn’t seem to know what it wanted to say.