All those pieces of the island, beach and grove and meadow, scale and feather and fur
- Bewertet: Einband: Taschenbuch
Circe, unpopular amongst gods and demigods, is punished for showing some kindness to Prometheus, who’s in chains when she meets him and sentenced to his demise. She is banned to live on an island by herself for the rest of her days, meaning eternity. But she is a powerful sorceress developing miraculous strengths. This is her st... Circe, unpopular amongst gods and demigods, is punished for showing some kindness to Prometheus, who’s in chains when she meets him and sentenced to his demise. She is banned to live on an island by herself for the rest of her days, meaning eternity. But she is a powerful sorceress developing miraculous strengths. This is her story from her point of view. It is such an immensely satisfying read! The book doesn’t feed so much on Greek mythology than brush most elegantly by it. Mind you, there is magic, and there are monsters. The descriptions of nature, both “real” and metaphorical, are simply wonderful. “His skin was beautiful, the colour of polished walnut. It smelled of green moss drenched with rain.” “The beach ebbed and flowed, its curves changing with every winter season. Even the cliffs were different, carved by the rain and wind, by the claws of countless scrabbling lizards, by the seeds that stuck and sprouted in their cracks. Everything was united by the steady rise and fall of nature’s breath.” Nature serves as a relief for immense pain: “I thought I would die of such pain … sharp and fierce as a blade through my chest. But of course I did not die. I would live on, through each scalding moment to the next. This is the grief that makes our kind to choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh.” “Surely there was some divine trick to make the hours go faster… I closed my eyes. Through the window I heard the bees singing in the garden. My lion’s tail beat against the stones. An eternity later, when I opened my eyes, the shadows had not even moved.” It’s a story of great loneliness and yearning. It’s a story of great injustice: “Often those men in most need hate most to be grateful, and will strike at you just to feel whole again.” “It was true what Hermes said. Every moment mortals died, by shipwreck and sword, by wild beasts and wild men, by illness, neglect and age. It was their fate, as Prometheus had told me, the story that they all shared. No matter how vivid they were in life, no matter how brilliant, no matter the wonders they made, they came to dust and smoke. Meanwhile every petty and useless god would go on sucking down the bright air until the stars went dark.” What would it be like, to live forever? How do we live and die? This brilliant book is also a wistful contemplation of love and mortality.
The No. 1 Bestseller from the author of The Song of Achilles
The captivating Sunday Times and New York Times number one bestseller by the Orange Prize-winning author of The Song of Achilles; 'spellbinding . a thrilling tour de force of the imagination' (Mail on Sunday)
'Fabulous' Daily Telegraph
'Blisteringly modern' The Times
'Bold and sensuously written' Daily Mail
'An airy delight' Observer
God. Mortal. Daughter. Monster. Saviour. Outcast. Lover. Destroyer. Creator. Mother. Witch.
Scorned, rejected and at last exiled from her father's house for her dark gifts, Circe arrives on the remote island of Aiaia with nothing but her wits and magic to help her. But there is danger for a solitary woman in the world, and Circe's independence and strange powers draw the wrath of men and gods alike. To protect what she holds dear, Circe must decide whether she belongs with the deities she is born from, or the mortals she has come to love.
Complicated and wounded, gifted and passionate, Madeline Miller's captivating Circe steps out of myth and into the present as a heroine for our time, and all times.
Circe gives us a feminist slant on the Odyssey . Miller makes these age-old texts thrum with contemporary relevance . An airy delight, a novel to be gobbled greedily in a single sitting Observer