Circe

One of the book’s main themes is the concept of power, which begs the question, what is true power? The most obvious answers are the gods’ power, political/social power, and magical power, but identifying “true power” from these options is not so simple. The gods’ power can be overcome by magic, as seen through Aeëtes’s ability to heal Circe from Helios’s wrath. It can also be circumvented by political power, as proven by Circe’s extortion of her father’s assistance as well as Athena’s unwillingness to risk war with the Titans by killing Circe. However, political power does not always triumph over witchcraft, as shown by Helios’s fear of Aeëtes’s magic and Pasiphaë’s control over her husband. Still, magical power does not stop Circe’s exile or Medea’s divorce.

Throughout the book, these different types of power are often in contrast. When a character finally achieves one kind of power, they discover that they are still at the mercy of another. Inherently lacking political power as a woman and a nymph, Pasiphaë uses her magical power to threaten her husband so she can live in relative safety. Similarly, Medea lacks the political power to create a life of her choosing. Her magic enables her to escape with Jason, thwarting her impending marriage to a sadistic uncle, but Medea’s magical power cannot buy the love of her husband or his people, and her life crumbles before their political strength. Daedalus’s genius allows him to build a labyrinth that can contain a terrible monster, but his love for his son traps him in Crete. Circe becomes unquestionably powerful, developing into twice the witch her sister is, one strong enough to challenge even Aeëtes, but she has no control over her exile. She cannot choose where to go without invoking the wrath of the gods.

Through this tale, power is presented less as a hammer and more as a set of lockpicks—each requiring its own technique which may or may not work depending on the lock in question. Ultimately, power is generally defined as the ability to cause change to one’s own benefit, so it must be determined by victory or advantage. It then follows that the most effective power depends on the situation and perspective, on what would be considered victory.

This is not as black and white as it might appear: Was Prometheus defeated when sentenced to torture, or was he victorious in his refusal to be selfish like the other gods? Was Pasiphaë victorious in keeping her husband under threat of her poisons, or did she only mitigate her suffering, still unable to choose a decent husband or even one at all? Did Daedalus conquer Pasiphaë’s political power by escaping Crete, or did she win by ensuring his only means of escape would cost his son’s life—the thing he held most dear in the world? When Circe finally takes control of her life, turning herself mortal, does she win, or do the gods, who gain a future without her troublesome existence?

The question of victory is subjective, and so is the question of power. What the book does make clear is that power comes in many forms, but rarely several at once, and that a single type of power may not be enough.