This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet.

I listen to his breath, warm upon the night air, and somehow I am comforted. His skin is familiar as my own beneath my fingers. I have heard him say them to our daughters, when he rocked them back to sleep from a nightmare, when he dressed their small cuts, soothed whatever stung. They are words you might speak to a child. The Circle 1 The Circle Dave Eggers 3. It is not the saying of an oracle or a prophet. Our faces are both lined now, marked with our years. He sits with me in the greensmelling darkness, holding my hand. How many have such power and leisure and defense as I do? Telemachus comes from our bed to find me. My witchcraft is as strong as ever, stronger. I create something, I transform something.

How can I live on beneath such a burden of doom? I rise then and go to my herbs. Maybe a magic pond that gives her visions, that already happens in the novel at some. If they do not fall on us in spite and malice, then they will fall by accident or whim. The book is very well written and allowing Circe out of her island would have destroyed her identity and personal struggles, but I think this book needed a third person perspective as a narrator or to give Circe some way of finding out what happens for herself. I do not forget either my father and his kind hanging over us, bright and sharp as swords, aimed at our tearing flesh. A breeze would blow them over, and the world is filled with more than breezes: diseases and disasters, monsters and pain in a thousand variations. Beside me, my husband's pulse beats at his throat in their beds, my children's skin shows every faintest scratch. 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.“I wake sometimes in the dark terrified by my life's precariousness, its thready breath. There is danger for a solitary woman in this world, and Circe’s independence draws the wrath of men and gods alike. And wily Odysseus, on his epic voyage home. But she will not always be alone many are destined to pass through Circe’s place of exile, entwining their fates with hers. There she learns to harness her occult craft, drawing strength from nature. When love drives Circe to cast a dark spell, wrathful Zeus banishes her to the remote island of Aiaia. Increasingly isolated, she turns to mortals for companionship, leading her to discover a power forbidden to the gods: witchcraft. But Circe has neither the look nor the voice of divinity, and is scorned and rejected by her kin. In the house of Helios, god of the sun and mightiest of the Titans, a daughter is born.

The circe book