Scars are a physical record of the pain a person has experienced and the mistakes they have made. In this way, scars represent how people learn and grow from pain and failure, making them unique. Throughout the novel, Circe is mesmerized by mortals’ scars, as well as their wrinkles and creases, as these are a testament to what they have lived through. This symbolism is most clearly established with Odysseus, who is heavily scarred from years of battle. When Circe asks him whether he would like her to “wipe [the scars] away,” he declines, asking “How would [he] know [him]self?” His response pleases Circe, who sees his scars as his “name stitched into his skin,” proof that he is “a captain with stories to tell.” This exchange clearly links a person’s scars to their identity—scars are a living monument to the important experiences that shape a person.
Scars also show how trying and failing at something leads a person to growth. As a child, Odysseus dreamed of being a craftsman like Daedalus, but he stopped because he “was always cutting [his] fingers open.” This makes Circe think of Daedalus’ hands, which are heavily scarred. The implication is that Daedalus is such an accomplished craftsman because of all of his failure—in other words, because of all the times he tried to make something and accidentally cut his hands. In this way, his scars reflect his growth and are an integral part of his success. Without them, he would be an entirely different person—someone much less accomplished and self-assured. Circe learns this lesson, too, while honing her witchcraft. When she first starts teaching herself magic, “all [she] brew[s] [are] mistakes.” Her skill must come “through errors and trials, [and] burnt fingers.” Failure, in other words, is how a person succeeds and, therefore, grows.
Of course, like all other divinities in the novel, Circe cannot have physical scars; her skin heals swiftly and perfectly when it is damaged. The gods’ lack of scars is symbolic of how they remain static throughout eternity—their personalities, values, and behaviors rarely change. While the nymphs have a “smooth sameness,” mortals are “relentlessly distinct,” mostly due to their imperfections. As the story continues and Circe yearns to leave her immortality behind, she longs to have the scars of mortals, even once imagining what she would look like if her wounds showed on her skin, “[trying] to imagine [her body] written over with its history.” When she does create a potion to become a mortal, having scars is one of the things she anticipates, excited at last for her body to reflect her story.
Scars Quotes in Circe
[Glaucos] pushed me from him. His face was caught, half in anger, half in a sort of fear. He looked almost like his old self […]
“No!” He slashed his hand through the air. “I will not think on those days. Every hour some new bruise upon me, some new ache, always weary, always burdened and weak. I sit at councils with your father now. I do not have to beg for every scrap. Nymphs clamor for me, and I may choose the best among them, which is Scylla.”
The scars themselves I offered to wipe away. [Odysseus] shook his head. “How would I know myself?”
I was secretly glad. They suited him. Enduring Odysseus, he was, and the name was stitched into his skin. Whoever saw him must salute and say: There is a man who has seen the world. There is a captain with stories to tell.
I might have told him, in those hours, stories of my own […] His face would be intent as he listened, his relentless mind examining, weighing and cataloguing […] He would gather my weaknesses up and set them with the rest of his collection, alongside Achilles’ and Ajax’s. He kept them on his person as other men keep their knives.
I looked down at my body […] and tried to imagine it written over with its history: my palm with its lightning streak, my hand missing its fingers, the thousand cuts from my witch-work, the gristled furrows of my father’s fire […] And those were only the things that had left marks.
There would be no salutes. What had Aeëtes called an ugly nymph? A stain upon the face of the world.