A NovelBook - 2018
From Library Staff
Follows Circe, the banished witch daughter of Helios, as she hones her powers and interacts with famous mythological beings before a conflict with one of the most vengeful Olympians forces her to choose between the world of the gods and the world of mortals.
DCLadults Apr 06, 2020
GREECE. Explore the world of Greek mythology as you follow the story of Circe, the witch in Homer's "The Odyssey," who turns men into pigs. Winner of the Alex Award for adult reads for teens.
DCLadults Jan 02, 2019
New & Noteworthy Best of 2018 Pick. This book reads like a soap opera of the gods and goddesses. So much power, envy, vanity and pride results in one mesmerizing story.
Vibe97 Jul 23, 2018
This novel invokes the perspective of an undervalued character from Homer's The Odyssey. I deeply enjoy the character development of Circe as she goes on a journey of self-discovery once she becomes aware of her abilities. She is a being of courage, compassion, determination, and motivation. All ... Read More »
Nicr Jun 11, 2018
The Titan witch Circe, nymph with an edge, tells her tale. Triumphant portrait of a fierce, complex immortal whose sorcery is a function of her "will," and an impressive re-imagining of Greek myth. (The Olympians put in striking, charismatic appearances--Apollo, Athena and especially th... Read More »
From the critics
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Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.
He showed me his scars, and in return he Let me pretend that I had none.
But most of all my father’s voice, speaking those words like trash he dropped. Such as you. Any other day in all my years of life I would have curled upon myself and wept. But that day his scorn was like a spark falling on dry tinder.
“You have always been the worst of my children,” he said. “Be sure to not dishonor me.”
“I have a better idea. I will do as I please, and when you count your children, leave me out.”
“Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep.”
“But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.”
Pg. 273 of the hardcover, “It is youth’s gift not to feel its debts.”
Pg. 311 of the hardcover, “But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults.”
But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults.
WHEN I WAS BORN, the name for what I was did not exist. They called me nymph, assuming I would be like my mother and aunts and thousand cousins. Least of the lesser goddesses, our powers were so modest they could scarcely ensure our eternities. We spoke to fish and nurtured flowers, coaxed drops from the clouds or salt from the waves. That word, nymph, paced out the length and breadth of our futures. In our language, it means not just goddess, but bride.
See her arrange her dress so it drapes just so over her shoulders. I see her dab her fingers, glinting, in the water. I have seen her do a thousand such tricks a thousand times. My father always fell for them. He believed the world’s natural order was to please him.
Once when I was young I asked what mortals looked like. My father said, “You may say they are shaped like us, but only as the worm is shaped like the whale.” My mother had been simpler: like savage bags of rotten flesh.
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ArapahoeTina thinks this title is suitable for 15 years and over
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