Circe - A delightful reminder of our mortality
Books transcend beyond their covers by making us hallucinate with wonders, and a good author is like a wizard cooking up potions that will make our mind swirl in an ecstasy of colors. Such an experience is incomparable to any other human experience. Reading Circe reminded me of it.
Circe is a story like few I’ve read. Masterfully written, with every word accounted for and each sentence a poem. I feel transported to ancient times, and I miss her conversations with Daedalus and grieve his son’s death, as Icarus ignored his father pleas when rising further into the sun.
A modern telling of a Greek goddess exiled from the eternal halls of her sun-father, Helios, to live eternity on an island, after discovering she has power beyond even of the Gods, Circe is a wonderful read.
The book exposes humanity in a way that only a goddess that has lived hundreds of generations could. She is somehow more human than any of us will ever be, and yet never quite as much. It makes me look at myself and marvel at the scars in my body and wonder at the inevitability of death.
My wife asked me why am I so obsessed with the Greek Gods, and my best answer is that they feel Human, at times even more so than ourselves. We were created in the image of most of our Gods, but only the Greek ones feel Human. I can almost believe our wonders spark from Prometheus’ gift to us.
Circe feels as real any person I’ve ever met, with the benefit of immortality. While my mind can’t decide just how to imagine her, she’s giving away her autobiography and forcing my mind to keep up.
If there’s a way to finish such a love letter, let it be to our humanity. We’re both capable of creating such written marvels and of living an immortal life, if only even for a moment.