Galatea: Book Review

Galatea plot summary

Carved from marble by a master sculptor and brought to life by a goddess, Galatea was never going to be the pliable thing her husband hoped for. Hidden away, under the supervision of doctors, she practices her deceptions and bides her time. She’s prepared to be patient, waiting for the perfect opportunity to seize freedom for her daughter and herself.

Content warnings:

• Abuse
• Sexual assault
• Reference to abortion
• Imprisonment
• Murder
• Suicide

My thoughts on Galatea

I’ve been trying to read more short stories lately, so when I saw that the author of The Song of Achilles was publishing one it seemed like an absolute no-brainer to chuck it in the Waterstones basket. Galatea is based on the Greek myth of Pygmalion.

Pygmalion is a talented sculptor, and a raging misogynist. Disgusted by the presence of prostitutes in town, he essentially decides that all women are awful and not worth his time. He carves a perfect, pure woman from ivory and proceeds to fall in love with her. The goddess Aphrodite sees his affection for his work and takes pity on him, bringing her to life. They have a child together and, as far as the myth is concerned, all live happily ever after.

In the oldest versions of the myth the statue doesn’t seem to have been given a name, and she certainly doesn’t have much of a will of her own. Later iterations have named her Galatea, and so that’s the name Madeline Miller goes with in a short story exploring the statue-turned-wife’s perspective.

I love the way Miller brings Greek myths to life

I tend to rave most about The Song of Achilles, because of the way it rips me to shreds each and every time I read it. But I think it’s important to note that Circe is equally brilliant, and probably has more in common with Galatea.

In both stories, Madeline Miller expands on a typically under-explored perspective, giving a fiercely modern voice to these ancient characters. The result is compelling, feminist, and often surprisingly funny.

“A few times in the past, I had let out a little snore at that moment, just for verisimilitude. But he did not like that at all.”

Galatea, Madeline Miller

This short story picks up a while after Galatea has come to life – she mulls over the best terminology for it at one point. Born? Awoken? Hatched? Her husband has her confined to a sanatorium of some kind, with medical staff who seem bemused by her insistence that she used to be made of stone. Pygmalion, who goes unnamed in the story, visits regularly to reenact the moment of her animation. Beyond that though, he wants nothing to do with her. It turns out that a man who thinks so poorly of women that he can only bear to marry a statue of his own creation struggles with any indication that she has a mind of her own. Shocker.

Despite its length, Galatea packs in some dark moments

Madeline Miller builds a sinister atmosphere, with Galatea completely at the mercy of her husband and the medical professionals he employs. While she brings in some humour through the protagonist’s small acts of rebellion and deception, that also helps to further hammer home her overall lack of agency.

“I was working on trying to faint, but didn’t have it quite right yet, for I needed to spend a long time breathing very fast first, and I hadn’t had enough warning that he was coming. But as soon as I did, that would be the new best time… and everyone would be happy, except for me. Though I supposed I would be a little happy, for thinking of it.”

Galatea, Madeline Miller

The story meanders between Galatea’s present confinement and the time that led up to it. We see a portrait of her husband as a bitter and paranoid man, spiteful and prone to violence when women don’t live up to his expectations. Galatea’s relationship with her daughter is also sketched for us, and the joy and sense of exploration shared by the two of them exists in stark contrast to Galatea’s imprisonment.

Her ultimate aim is to escape, to free her daughter and herself from Pygmalion’s control, and she’s prepared to pay any price to achieve that.

Galatea’s voice feels stilted in just the right way

Told in the first person, the narration has a subtle awkwardness to it that gives it a perfect otherworldly edge. Just the kind of thing you might expect from a statue relatively recently given the power of thought and speech. Galatea never seems exactly angry at her situation, but there is an undercurrent of discontent, and a deep knowledge that her husband is dangerous and wrong.

It’s hard to know how much to say about a short story, but I can say without hesitation that I’d recommend it. Particularly if you enjoyed either of Madeline Miller’s other books, or if you’re a fan of Greek Myth retellings in general.

If you’ve read Galatea, I’d love to know what you thought – and if you have any other short story recommendations, I’m always on the lookout for more!

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