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Galatée
In Ancient Greece, a skilled marble sculptor has been blessed by a goddess who has given his masterpiece – the most beautiful woman the town has ever seen – the gift of life. Now his wife, Galatea is expected to be obedience and humility personified, but it is not long before she learns to use her beauty as a form of manipulation. In a desperate bid by her obsessive husband to keep her under control, she is locked away under the constant supervision of doctors and nurses. But with a daughter to rescue, she is determined to break free, whatever the cost...
43 pages, Paperback
First published August 13, 2013
About the author
Madeline Miller
24 books89.6k followersMadeline Miller was born in Boston and grew up in New York City and Philadelphia. She attended Brown University, where she earned her BA and MA in Classics. For the last ten years she has been teaching and tutoring Latin, Greek and Shakespeare to high school students. She has also studied at the University of Chicago’s Committee on Social Thought, and in the Dramaturgy department at Yale School of Drama, where she focused on the adaptation of classical texts to modern forms. She currently lives in Cambridge, MA, where she teaches and writes. The Song of Achilles is her first novel.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 17,456 reviews
October 8, 2026
3.5 ⭐️
this is the only accurate story of Galatea in existence. everything else is simply inaccurate and misleading
this is the only accurate story of Galatea in existence. everything else is simply inaccurate and misleading
December 30, 2016
Haunting and brutal. Madeline Miller owns my mythology-loving ass.
May 13, 2023
I'd give 5 stars to Madeline Miller's grocery list.
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November 7, 2022
‘Everyone would be happy, except for me.’
Retellings of Greek mythology are having quite their day in the sun lately, largely in part to author’s such as Madeline Miller crafting such engaging stories that play with the original myths while also making them feel very modern. Books like Circe or The Song of Achilles bridge time to show how the themes are still very relevant today and have a throughline of feminist examination that really catches hold. Galatea is a short story by Miller that dives into the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea from the perspective of Galatea, the former statue brought to life. This is not what you remember from Ovid but something that becomes original and unique in Miller's prose. First published in 2013, then included in xo Orpheus: Fifty New Myths it is now receiving a stand-alone 2022 publication as a gorgeous little hardback volume. Short but full of lasting power and insight, Galatea examines misogyny in its forms of abuse, control and the oppression of unrealistic expectations of beauty as well as Galatea’s role as a mother trying to provide care and love, and is a lovely little read.
‘Haven’t you ever touched a statue?’
The story of Galatea, the statue come to life as a wish fulfilled by Aphrodite for the young sculptor Pygmalion, has long influenced art through the ages with sculptures so lifelike they seem on the verge of life becoming a common trope such as in Shakespeare’s The Winter's Tale. In fact, the 1964 musical My Fair Lady starring Audrey Hepburn is only two retellings removed from the myth of Galatea by way of playwright George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion. Miller’s approach to the story by placing us in the mind of Galatea makes her existence less romanticized by showing how concepts of ownership and expectations of beauty are stifling to her. Her very fluid and confessional prose presents the story in a way where the setting could be anywhere, and though it is presumably still in the setting of the original tale, the vagueness and modern feel to the language allow it to seem like it could be occurring in the modern world as well. It is effective as it demonstrates that the themes in the story have been issues for women throughout all of history and linger today.
‘People began to talk about the sculptor’s wife, and how strange she was, and how such beauty comes only from the gods.’
Having been created by her husband, his sense of ownership over her is rather oppressive. Though it is almost more metaphorical about the patriarchal ideas that wives are the property of men as his behavior is very typical of any jealous husband. For instance, he fires the tutor for looking at her and is angered Galatea was aware of his gaze and did nothing, the irony being that she knows everyone looks at her because she is a curiosity and he formed her to be the most beautiful woman alive. When he notices marks on her due to having carried a child, he wishes he could chisel them away despite her remark that it is a natural part of life. Beauty, in his eyes, must be unrealistic perfection, and any aspect of the beauty that is found in reality, where imperfections are also lovely, he rejects because it does not serve his idealized expectations.
His insistence for her to be compliant and grateful is incongruous with the reality of her being an independent woman with an interior life and not merely a statue who’s entire identity is bent towards serving his desire:
This all works very well, with Miller making the story of a living statue parallel to the familiar talking points in feminist writings about relationships. In 12 Bytes: How We Got Here. Where We Might Go Next, Jeanette Winterson compares the idea of Galatea to the modern sex-dolls and the rather unsettling advances to make them more lifelike with modern computer tech, writing that ‘doll-world reinforces the gender at its most oppressive and unimaginative,’ normalizing the idea of compliant sexual ‘partners’ ‘made to look like the male-gaze stereotype’ with no sense of identity beyond pleasing, able to take endless abuse without complaining, and never having an independent thought. Sure, these are lifeless objects, but Galatea is stuck in an existence where that mindset of her as a lifeless object is still imposed upon her and in reality, the mindset of many abusive partners in the world try to impose these standards on women.
There is also an interesting, albeit brief, element that while the choice over reproductive rights and agency is a hotly debated political topic and women are often shamed and ostracized for making difficult choices, there is no social stigma against men who do not want to have children.
While we watch Galatea being denied any agency in her life and accepting a lot of abuse and made to feel it is for her own good (when Pygmalion hurts her and notices the color of the bruises left behind, he tells her ‘You make the rarest canvas, love’), we also see her fight for the good of her daughter. The ending, which is rather darkly beautiful, is geared to the idea of protection, though retribution also inevitably factors in. In a way it is a call to break the cycles of abuse and ensure the coming generations are raised to know they do not need to accept the toxic behaviors that try to masquerade as love.
This is a brief story, easily read in a sitting, but it is such an excellent analysis of the original tale via a new narrative. I was extra excited to find this story as my community is currently doing a community read of Circe with Miller giving a talk and interview later this week. Quick, but full of insight, Galatea is a lovely little read.
3.5/5
Retellings of Greek mythology are having quite their day in the sun lately, largely in part to author’s such as Madeline Miller crafting such engaging stories that play with the original myths while also making them feel very modern. Books like Circe or The Song of Achilles bridge time to show how the themes are still very relevant today and have a throughline of feminist examination that really catches hold. Galatea is a short story by Miller that dives into the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea from the perspective of Galatea, the former statue brought to life. This is not what you remember from Ovid but something that becomes original and unique in Miller's prose. First published in 2013, then included in xo Orpheus: Fifty New Myths it is now receiving a stand-alone 2022 publication as a gorgeous little hardback volume. Short but full of lasting power and insight, Galatea examines misogyny in its forms of abuse, control and the oppression of unrealistic expectations of beauty as well as Galatea’s role as a mother trying to provide care and love, and is a lovely little read.
‘Haven’t you ever touched a statue?’
The story of Galatea, the statue come to life as a wish fulfilled by Aphrodite for the young sculptor Pygmalion, has long influenced art through the ages with sculptures so lifelike they seem on the verge of life becoming a common trope such as in Shakespeare’s The Winter's Tale. In fact, the 1964 musical My Fair Lady starring Audrey Hepburn is only two retellings removed from the myth of Galatea by way of playwright George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion. Miller’s approach to the story by placing us in the mind of Galatea makes her existence less romanticized by showing how concepts of ownership and expectations of beauty are stifling to her. Her very fluid and confessional prose presents the story in a way where the setting could be anywhere, and though it is presumably still in the setting of the original tale, the vagueness and modern feel to the language allow it to seem like it could be occurring in the modern world as well. It is effective as it demonstrates that the themes in the story have been issues for women throughout all of history and linger today.
‘People began to talk about the sculptor’s wife, and how strange she was, and how such beauty comes only from the gods.’
Having been created by her husband, his sense of ownership over her is rather oppressive. Though it is almost more metaphorical about the patriarchal ideas that wives are the property of men as his behavior is very typical of any jealous husband. For instance, he fires the tutor for looking at her and is angered Galatea was aware of his gaze and did nothing, the irony being that she knows everyone looks at her because she is a curiosity and he formed her to be the most beautiful woman alive. When he notices marks on her due to having carried a child, he wishes he could chisel them away despite her remark that it is a natural part of life. Beauty, in his eyes, must be unrealistic perfection, and any aspect of the beauty that is found in reality, where imperfections are also lovely, he rejects because it does not serve his idealized expectations.
His insistence for her to be compliant and grateful is incongruous with the reality of her being an independent woman with an interior life and not merely a statue who’s entire identity is bent towards serving his desire:
‘The thing is, I don’t think my husband expected me to be able to talk. I don’t blame him for this exactly, since he had known me only as a statue, pure and beautiful and yielding to his art. Naturally, when he wished me to live, that’s what he wanted still, only warm so that he might fuck me. But it does seem foolish that he didn’t think it through, how I could not both live and still be a statue.’
This all works very well, with Miller making the story of a living statue parallel to the familiar talking points in feminist writings about relationships. In 12 Bytes: How We Got Here. Where We Might Go Next, Jeanette Winterson compares the idea of Galatea to the modern sex-dolls and the rather unsettling advances to make them more lifelike with modern computer tech, writing that ‘doll-world reinforces the gender at its most oppressive and unimaginative,’ normalizing the idea of compliant sexual ‘partners’ ‘made to look like the male-gaze stereotype’ with no sense of identity beyond pleasing, able to take endless abuse without complaining, and never having an independent thought. Sure, these are lifeless objects, but Galatea is stuck in an existence where that mindset of her as a lifeless object is still imposed upon her and in reality, the mindset of many abusive partners in the world try to impose these standards on women.
There is also an interesting, albeit brief, element that while the choice over reproductive rights and agency is a hotly debated political topic and women are often shamed and ostracized for making difficult choices, there is no social stigma against men who do not want to have children.
While we watch Galatea being denied any agency in her life and accepting a lot of abuse and made to feel it is for her own good (when Pygmalion hurts her and notices the color of the bruises left behind, he tells her ‘You make the rarest canvas, love’), we also see her fight for the good of her daughter. The ending, which is rather darkly beautiful, is geared to the idea of protection, though retribution also inevitably factors in. In a way it is a call to break the cycles of abuse and ensure the coming generations are raised to know they do not need to accept the toxic behaviors that try to masquerade as love.
This is a brief story, easily read in a sitting, but it is such an excellent analysis of the original tale via a new narrative. I was extra excited to find this story as my community is currently doing a community read of Circe with Miller giving a talk and interview later this week. Quick, but full of insight, Galatea is a lovely little read.
3.5/5
November 10, 2022
Galatea is a brutal and icy feminist spin on the myth of Pygmalion and Galatea told from the perspective of the statue, which can be read as a cautionary tale aimed at men who like their women to be ‘pure’, docile and mute: unless it comes in the guise of a tasty mottled cake, marble is cold and can weigh you down – just like a yearning for perfection can.
Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.
(Samuel Johnson)
December 25, 2022
A Great Stocking Stuffer!
This is a modern retelling of a Greek myth, a short story that carries an emotional punch.
Once upon a time, Galatea was a marble sculpture. Her husband loved her so much that the goddess turned the sculpture into a real-life person. However, relationships with people are oh so much more complicated than a relationship with an inanimate object.
In this story, Galatea is never mentioned by name which adds to the haunting quality of this book.
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This is a modern retelling of a Greek myth, a short story that carries an emotional punch.
Once upon a time, Galatea was a marble sculpture. Her husband loved her so much that the goddess turned the sculpture into a real-life person. However, relationships with people are oh so much more complicated than a relationship with an inanimate object.
In this story, Galatea is never mentioned by name which adds to the haunting quality of this book.
Connect With Me!
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March 7, 2022
This is a compelling and highly symbolic feminist retelling of an Ancient Greek story that I recommend most highly.
I’m always impressed by the writing of Madeline Miller. Her first book The Song of Achilles was a powerful and imaginative retelling of The Iliad. Her second novel Circe, however, was at a completely different level: it was simply fantastic in every way.
As such, I had extremely high expectations going into this and I’m very pleased to say they were met entirely. First off though, it’s important to note that this is a short story but it packs a very hefty punch. Galatea is a literary adaptation, a taking of an established story and retelling it and here it is done from a strong feminist perspective. Miller takes a piece of Ovid's Metamorphoses and gives it new life and agency.
Indeed, she takes an otherwise silent female character and gives her a voice and a story. Galatea was made from stone by a sculptor. He created her and prayed for her to come to life and his wish was granted by the gods. In Ovid’s version they get married and live happily ever after, but his narrative is problematic. What about Galatea wishes? Miller gives that consideration here. Galatea was physically made and sculped to be one man’s ideal: he made her to serve his every whim. It never occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, she might want something different from life.
What follows is a story of desperation and entrapment. Galatea, quite naturally, wants to escape from her overbearing creator and jailor. In this, he is the ultimate expression of the suffocating patriarchy which he represents. And without giving away the plot conclusion, it’s a forceful indictment of the terribleness of treating women like objects. I was impressed by the story’s closure. It was symbolic and it left a lasting image. Here Miller shows that her writing is on par with the likes of Margaret Atwood and Angela Carter when it comes to adapting stories and ideas.
So, this is a very strong short story. I would love to see more like it from Miller, a collection of them would certainly be great. For now, I will continue to read everything she writes.
___________________________________
You can connect with me on social media via My Linktree.
__________________________________
I’m always impressed by the writing of Madeline Miller. Her first book The Song of Achilles was a powerful and imaginative retelling of The Iliad. Her second novel Circe, however, was at a completely different level: it was simply fantastic in every way.
As such, I had extremely high expectations going into this and I’m very pleased to say they were met entirely. First off though, it’s important to note that this is a short story but it packs a very hefty punch. Galatea is a literary adaptation, a taking of an established story and retelling it and here it is done from a strong feminist perspective. Miller takes a piece of Ovid's Metamorphoses and gives it new life and agency.
Indeed, she takes an otherwise silent female character and gives her a voice and a story. Galatea was made from stone by a sculptor. He created her and prayed for her to come to life and his wish was granted by the gods. In Ovid’s version they get married and live happily ever after, but his narrative is problematic. What about Galatea wishes? Miller gives that consideration here. Galatea was physically made and sculped to be one man’s ideal: he made her to serve his every whim. It never occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, she might want something different from life.
What follows is a story of desperation and entrapment. Galatea, quite naturally, wants to escape from her overbearing creator and jailor. In this, he is the ultimate expression of the suffocating patriarchy which he represents. And without giving away the plot conclusion, it’s a forceful indictment of the terribleness of treating women like objects. I was impressed by the story’s closure. It was symbolic and it left a lasting image. Here Miller shows that her writing is on par with the likes of Margaret Atwood and Angela Carter when it comes to adapting stories and ideas.
So, this is a very strong short story. I would love to see more like it from Miller, a collection of them would certainly be great. For now, I will continue to read everything she writes.
___________________________________
You can connect with me on social media via My Linktree.
__________________________________
January 31, 2020
Love this writer, got to know her in last years with her books, most well known Circe but also The Song of Achilles, love her take on 'classical/mythical' stories. This story is wonderful and intriguing as well, for my taste this story could have been a full fletch book, the storyline is very suitable. So, much too short but then again, I love short stories too. Same dark and brooding character as her other books. Loved it. Too short. Hoping for a new book by this writer soon. Recommended. More thoughts later.... as usual.
June 12, 2022
Galatea was quite an interesting concept and with a reimagining and retelling of the Greek Myth Pygmalion, it was sure to entice fans of Madelaine Miller. It was this premise and loving Miller’s previous works, Song of Achilles and Circe, that brought me to this short story.
Galatea is the sculptured statue of seemingly the most beautiful woman who is brought to life by the man who created and became obsessed with her. However the mortal life sees her virtually imprisoned by a husband who seeks to control her and brands her mad after several attempts to flee.
In short, Galatea was a story that was underwritten and underwhelming. There was no depth to the characters, little substance to the storyline and the underlying themes of objectifying women, domestic abuse and obsession with beauty and perfection, although powerful didn’t really get going.
It needed more of everything so much more. I just struggled to see the point of this book and would ask why the author who has written two fabulous books would spoil that reputation with this one.
Galatea is the sculptured statue of seemingly the most beautiful woman who is brought to life by the man who created and became obsessed with her. However the mortal life sees her virtually imprisoned by a husband who seeks to control her and brands her mad after several attempts to flee.
In short, Galatea was a story that was underwritten and underwhelming. There was no depth to the characters, little substance to the storyline and the underlying themes of objectifying women, domestic abuse and obsession with beauty and perfection, although powerful didn’t really get going.
It needed more of everything so much more. I just struggled to see the point of this book and would ask why the author who has written two fabulous books would spoil that reputation with this one.
February 11, 2024
This is a perfect short story. This is a perfect retelling. This is a work of brilliance.
Venus may have granted Pygmalion’s wish, but Madeline Miller is the person who truly gave Galatea life, grace, and resilience.
As someone who loves mythology, magical realism, and art (history), this short story is complete and utter perfection.
Venus may have granted Pygmalion’s wish, but Madeline Miller is the person who truly gave Galatea life, grace, and resilience.
As someone who loves mythology, magical realism, and art (history), this short story is complete and utter perfection.
June 28, 2020
Please put seven curses on the judge so cruel / That one doctor cannot save him / That two healers cannot heal him / And that three eyes can never see him (Seven Curses – Bob Dylan).
If you were wondering whether or not the number of pages mattered in regards to Madeline Miller’s ability to emotionally devastate with her prose; it doesn’t. In fact, at this point I’m convinced she could ruin me with a single sentence if she wanted to. That's always nice, isn't it? I saw this post on Tumblr that was basically talking about how there’s never really a need for retellings and that every idea based on a specific interpretation of whatever is being interpreted should just be repurposed into an original idea (like how Fifty Shades of Gray was blatant Twilight smut fanfic before the author decided to turn it into her own original work), and while I understand where the sentiment is coming from (make your own art yada yada), I really do think there is something to be had in a deliberate re-contextualization of a previous work. Circe, My Dear Henry, Teach the Torches to Burn, while all of these definitely could have worked had they been touched up a little bit into their own original property, there’s an implicit statement and incentivized reason to read the books listed simply due to them being built off an original work that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. I don’t know, maybe I'm saying this because it's coming from a retelling enthusiast, but I’ve always found it infinitely fascinating to be able to dissect the different ways authors reinterpret their favorite classic literature, and I love seeing different takes on what would have or could have changed had things been a little different. Which is actually pretty funny that I have this stance on retellings in literature at all considering I HATE (all caps) those “What if?” comic book story lines where they’re basically just like, “what if Thanos was wearing a green shirt in this scene” because it’s like… man, who gives a shit! But I guess the difference is that with retellings in prose, they’re usually made with some understanding and love for an original tale that spoke to the author at some point, whereas with comic books, there’s an almost insidious behind-the-scenes corporate force that’s trying to sell a story based solely on some kind of profit margin algorithm rather than it being made with good intentions and a real interest in examining a work of art with fresh eyes and a renewed sense of purpose. Sorry, I didn’t mean to go into my “Marvel hating” shtick this early into an unrelated review, but I guess what I’m saying here is that if you want to do a What if? story line for a well-known property, a retelling, if you will, then the very least you can do as a writer is make it so the details of your new story aren’t so inconsequential to the original that you might as well have not written anything in the first place and that the differences aren’t so world-shattering that it completely changes the thematic mission the work set out to accomplish in the first place. Hey, no big deal, right?
Otherwise, outside of my intense love for retellings in general, I’ve always enjoyed Madeline Miller’s stories specifically because they remind me of those old school “response songs” where there would be one version of the song talking about a break-up, and then someone else would make a song communicating to the first song from the perspective of the other side of the relationship. It’s kind of like how every male country song is about patriotism and tractors or whatever and then all the female sung ones are like, “I’m going to kill my husband and this song will detail my five-step plan to do it”. But yeah, there’s this older, yet very popular dude song called “The Rain” by Oran “Juice” Jones where he goes on this really long monologue at the end of the song (he’s literally just talking) about how he’s done with his cheating girlfriend, talking about how she was a gold digger and didn’t appreciate how he bought her “silk suits, Gucci handbags, blue diamonds, things she couldn’t even pronounce” and it’s funny because even during this read of his, he still tells on himself by also saying that she’s too young to know better, and it’s like… why are you dating someone young enough to patronizingly give out life advice and yet expect her to “know better”. Anyway, the response song decidedly said that she didn’t need his ass or any kind of “cheap ass fur coat” that he has to offer. There’s another song called “Fuck It (I Don't Want You Back)” by Eamon where he goes on about much the same subject matter (except somehow more whiny), and I always laugh at the part in the lady’s response song where she proudly talks about she had “better sex on her own”. So yeah, one of the reasons why Madeline Miller’s work speaks to me is because even though the love for the source material is obvious, there’s a healthy skepticism towards the original mythology that can only come from a place of the deepest respect. And on that note, Galatea might be Miller’s most biting and hard-hitting critique of a male dominant society she's written so far. And while it’s hard for me to sit here and recommend to everyone that they need to go out and read this short story right now due to the fact that it always makes me incredibly sad whenever I flip through it, I think it’s often more pressing for literature to serve as an examination of a particular issue and to hold up a mirror to it rather than focus on chasing happily-ever-after’s. Sometimes a story trading in a cheery ending for everyone involved in lieu of emotional catharsis is much more honest and satisfying than anything "and then everyone had kids" could give us. Take Breaking Bad’s ending for example, it’s not a good time for anyone involved, but the writers understood that Walt telling the truth about his selfish intentions was the only amount of release necessary to stick the landing. It’s not about what people deserve or whether or it was karma that happened to them or whatever else kind of holy roller obsession with divine punishment that always seeps into our stories, the only thing that matters is telling a good story that stays true to itself.
My husband came to the doorway. “Why are you laughing?”
Paphos said, “Why not?” She was taller than the other girls, and long-limbed. She wasn’t afraid of him.
Anyway, I’m sure you know the story of Pygmalion but I’ll talk about it for a little bit because I wasn’t familiar with it until reading Galatea. An incel named Pygmalion decries the “failure of society”, citing prostitutes and any woman of ill-repute, and decides to create the perfect woman out of marble in his own perverted image of purity. It’s kind of like how some company figured that they could make those K-Pop millions by copying Professor Plutonium and throwing seven to eight women in a vat of chemicals at the TikTok algorithm factory in order to create Katseye! Anyway, after realizing no woman could ever match up to his perfect creation, Pygmalion begs his goddess to give life to his beloved statue… then she comes alive and they have a child and live happily-ever-after. The end. Or at least, that’s my understanding of the story, but even then, it’s clear where the inspiration to use Galatea as a forum to air out grievances and explore the depths of systemic misogyny through this man who clearly doesn’t want an equal in a partner, but rather an inanimate thing molded in his image. Galatea isn’t just a Yellow Wallpaper-esque look into women’s place in society at a certain point in time, but also explicit confrontation of the male counterpart’s role in this suffering. Whether that be through inflicting pain directly or sheer complacency, when these kinds of horrors can be acted upon without fear of repercussion, then everyone holds a piece of the blame. This book isn’t saying that you should feel bad for who you are, because a “woe-is-me” attitude helps nobody, it almost makes no statement of any kind, but what it does do is give us a first-hand account of the only course of action a desperate person has when dealing with not just a horrific man, but The Combine itself (you know, like from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). My husband, my captor. And this book doesn’t just detail an awful man, but a specific flavor of awful man; a pious man! I don’t mean to say that as a statement of piety in and of itself, but rather what can happen to a person when they’re able to fall back on platitudes of divine encouragement as justification for any and all of their actions. Remember, the man featured in this story isn’t capable of loving his wife, or more importantly, being loved, because his creation of Galatea was an act of hatred and defiance towards all womankind anyway. He’s the kind that wants his wife to have neck-breaking beauty but detests the thought of her having the agency to acknowledge it. So, it’s no wonder the only act of retaliation she has to offer him is to drown his ass, or in other words, give him her own an act of hatred and defiance in return. This version of Pygmalion isn’t just terrible for his treatment of Galatea and their daughter Paphos, but also because society deems it his right to act in such a way. Why would he change his behavior when there’s nothing to change, right? Nobody can do more harm than a man who sets out to do no harm, because none of his actions will be or can be examined under the lens of intentionality!
So yeah, Galatea is a scathing critique because it doesn’t ever feel the need to moralize on its finer points. We as the reader understand that what happens within the contents of the book are wrong (except for when Galatea drowns his ass), all we have to do is turn the page. And as if to underline, highlight, and bold it, I loved the way Pygmalion wasn’t even name dropped in the story proper, but instead delegated to blunt descriptions of his reprehensible behavior. In Galatea, he isn’t a mythological figure, just another filthy pig. Good thing she drowned his ass! Anyway, I should probably wrap this up, because I can’t lie that I’m getting a little heated! I never want to say that a book is important, because saying so ironically dilutes its importance, so I'll just let this book stand as on own. There’s this other post on Tumblr saying “It's really funny how art can be so important and enriching and sometimes downright life-changing but every single piece of art about how important and life-changing art is is the lamest shit ever.” and I felt that. It’s like at the end of Game of Thrones where the writers, D&D, had their self-insert, Tyrion Lannister, wax poetic on the importance of a good story and it immediately made a shitty ending even shittier. It turns the entire thing into edutainment, and trust me, there’s no quicker death to art than the artist trying to teach. Otherwise, I’m just glad Madeline Miller knows that an author only has to rely on the strength of their writing to carry a story. You know how I know George R.R. Martin will never be lauded as a unique voice in literature? Because of how easily his Dunk & Egg stories can be adapted into a graphic novel format. And look, I’m not saying the medium is lesser than literature, but when you can so easily adapt the work into a picture book with few changes and still walk away with the same amount of understanding, then you just know that its strength wasn’t in the writing. That’s like strictly listening to Kid’s Bop and then claiming you’re a Sabrina Carpenter Stan! Anyway, Galatea is a masterpiece because it understands that all you can do through art is paint a picture. You can preach all day about what people go through, “queer folk have it bad in this way”, “women have to deal with this”, but the sad truth is at the end of the day, they’re just words that can and will be ignored by the blissfully ignorant. What makes Madeline Miller’s work so impactful isn’t just that she reinterprets mythology with empathy for the unspoken, but that she also shows us what living as these people is like. I know that’s rather common, “show don’t tell”, but nobody puts you into someone’s headspace in a more visceral way than Madeline Miller. I’ll die on that hill! I mean, take that with a grain of sand, because I’ve died on ant hills before, but whenever the question is posed to me, there’s really no other author I can think of that weaves the same kind of magic with their pen in the same way that Miller does.
That four ears cannot hear him / That five walls cannot hide him / That six diggers cannot bury him / And that seven deaths shall never kill him.
If you were wondering whether or not the number of pages mattered in regards to Madeline Miller’s ability to emotionally devastate with her prose; it doesn’t. In fact, at this point I’m convinced she could ruin me with a single sentence if she wanted to. That's always nice, isn't it? I saw this post on Tumblr that was basically talking about how there’s never really a need for retellings and that every idea based on a specific interpretation of whatever is being interpreted should just be repurposed into an original idea (like how Fifty Shades of Gray was blatant Twilight smut fanfic before the author decided to turn it into her own original work), and while I understand where the sentiment is coming from (make your own art yada yada), I really do think there is something to be had in a deliberate re-contextualization of a previous work. Circe, My Dear Henry, Teach the Torches to Burn, while all of these definitely could have worked had they been touched up a little bit into their own original property, there’s an implicit statement and incentivized reason to read the books listed simply due to them being built off an original work that wouldn’t have been there otherwise. I don’t know, maybe I'm saying this because it's coming from a retelling enthusiast, but I’ve always found it infinitely fascinating to be able to dissect the different ways authors reinterpret their favorite classic literature, and I love seeing different takes on what would have or could have changed had things been a little different. Which is actually pretty funny that I have this stance on retellings in literature at all considering I HATE (all caps) those “What if?” comic book story lines where they’re basically just like, “what if Thanos was wearing a green shirt in this scene” because it’s like… man, who gives a shit! But I guess the difference is that with retellings in prose, they’re usually made with some understanding and love for an original tale that spoke to the author at some point, whereas with comic books, there’s an almost insidious behind-the-scenes corporate force that’s trying to sell a story based solely on some kind of profit margin algorithm rather than it being made with good intentions and a real interest in examining a work of art with fresh eyes and a renewed sense of purpose. Sorry, I didn’t mean to go into my “Marvel hating” shtick this early into an unrelated review, but I guess what I’m saying here is that if you want to do a What if? story line for a well-known property, a retelling, if you will, then the very least you can do as a writer is make it so the details of your new story aren’t so inconsequential to the original that you might as well have not written anything in the first place and that the differences aren’t so world-shattering that it completely changes the thematic mission the work set out to accomplish in the first place. Hey, no big deal, right?
Otherwise, outside of my intense love for retellings in general, I’ve always enjoyed Madeline Miller’s stories specifically because they remind me of those old school “response songs” where there would be one version of the song talking about a break-up, and then someone else would make a song communicating to the first song from the perspective of the other side of the relationship. It’s kind of like how every male country song is about patriotism and tractors or whatever and then all the female sung ones are like, “I’m going to kill my husband and this song will detail my five-step plan to do it”. But yeah, there’s this older, yet very popular dude song called “The Rain” by Oran “Juice” Jones where he goes on this really long monologue at the end of the song (he’s literally just talking) about how he’s done with his cheating girlfriend, talking about how she was a gold digger and didn’t appreciate how he bought her “silk suits, Gucci handbags, blue diamonds, things she couldn’t even pronounce” and it’s funny because even during this read of his, he still tells on himself by also saying that she’s too young to know better, and it’s like… why are you dating someone young enough to patronizingly give out life advice and yet expect her to “know better”. Anyway, the response song decidedly said that she didn’t need his ass or any kind of “cheap ass fur coat” that he has to offer. There’s another song called “Fuck It (I Don't Want You Back)” by Eamon where he goes on about much the same subject matter (except somehow more whiny), and I always laugh at the part in the lady’s response song where she proudly talks about she had “better sex on her own”. So yeah, one of the reasons why Madeline Miller’s work speaks to me is because even though the love for the source material is obvious, there’s a healthy skepticism towards the original mythology that can only come from a place of the deepest respect. And on that note, Galatea might be Miller’s most biting and hard-hitting critique of a male dominant society she's written so far. And while it’s hard for me to sit here and recommend to everyone that they need to go out and read this short story right now due to the fact that it always makes me incredibly sad whenever I flip through it, I think it’s often more pressing for literature to serve as an examination of a particular issue and to hold up a mirror to it rather than focus on chasing happily-ever-after’s. Sometimes a story trading in a cheery ending for everyone involved in lieu of emotional catharsis is much more honest and satisfying than anything "and then everyone had kids" could give us. Take Breaking Bad’s ending for example, it’s not a good time for anyone involved, but the writers understood that Walt telling the truth about his selfish intentions was the only amount of release necessary to stick the landing. It’s not about what people deserve or whether or it was karma that happened to them or whatever else kind of holy roller obsession with divine punishment that always seeps into our stories, the only thing that matters is telling a good story that stays true to itself.
My husband came to the doorway. “Why are you laughing?”
Paphos said, “Why not?” She was taller than the other girls, and long-limbed. She wasn’t afraid of him.
Anyway, I’m sure you know the story of Pygmalion but I’ll talk about it for a little bit because I wasn’t familiar with it until reading Galatea. An incel named Pygmalion decries the “failure of society”, citing prostitutes and any woman of ill-repute, and decides to create the perfect woman out of marble in his own perverted image of purity. It’s kind of like how some company figured that they could make those K-Pop millions by copying Professor Plutonium and throwing seven to eight women in a vat of chemicals at the TikTok algorithm factory in order to create Katseye! Anyway, after realizing no woman could ever match up to his perfect creation, Pygmalion begs his goddess to give life to his beloved statue… then she comes alive and they have a child and live happily-ever-after. The end. Or at least, that’s my understanding of the story, but even then, it’s clear where the inspiration to use Galatea as a forum to air out grievances and explore the depths of systemic misogyny through this man who clearly doesn’t want an equal in a partner, but rather an inanimate thing molded in his image. Galatea isn’t just a Yellow Wallpaper-esque look into women’s place in society at a certain point in time, but also explicit confrontation of the male counterpart’s role in this suffering. Whether that be through inflicting pain directly or sheer complacency, when these kinds of horrors can be acted upon without fear of repercussion, then everyone holds a piece of the blame. This book isn’t saying that you should feel bad for who you are, because a “woe-is-me” attitude helps nobody, it almost makes no statement of any kind, but what it does do is give us a first-hand account of the only course of action a desperate person has when dealing with not just a horrific man, but The Combine itself (you know, like from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). My husband, my captor. And this book doesn’t just detail an awful man, but a specific flavor of awful man; a pious man! I don’t mean to say that as a statement of piety in and of itself, but rather what can happen to a person when they’re able to fall back on platitudes of divine encouragement as justification for any and all of their actions. Remember, the man featured in this story isn’t capable of loving his wife, or more importantly, being loved, because his creation of Galatea was an act of hatred and defiance towards all womankind anyway. He’s the kind that wants his wife to have neck-breaking beauty but detests the thought of her having the agency to acknowledge it. So, it’s no wonder the only act of retaliation she has to offer him is to drown his ass, or in other words, give him her own an act of hatred and defiance in return. This version of Pygmalion isn’t just terrible for his treatment of Galatea and their daughter Paphos, but also because society deems it his right to act in such a way. Why would he change his behavior when there’s nothing to change, right? Nobody can do more harm than a man who sets out to do no harm, because none of his actions will be or can be examined under the lens of intentionality!
So yeah, Galatea is a scathing critique because it doesn’t ever feel the need to moralize on its finer points. We as the reader understand that what happens within the contents of the book are wrong (except for when Galatea drowns his ass), all we have to do is turn the page. And as if to underline, highlight, and bold it, I loved the way Pygmalion wasn’t even name dropped in the story proper, but instead delegated to blunt descriptions of his reprehensible behavior. In Galatea, he isn’t a mythological figure, just another filthy pig. Good thing she drowned his ass! Anyway, I should probably wrap this up, because I can’t lie that I’m getting a little heated! I never want to say that a book is important, because saying so ironically dilutes its importance, so I'll just let this book stand as on own. There’s this other post on Tumblr saying “It's really funny how art can be so important and enriching and sometimes downright life-changing but every single piece of art about how important and life-changing art is is the lamest shit ever.” and I felt that. It’s like at the end of Game of Thrones where the writers, D&D, had their self-insert, Tyrion Lannister, wax poetic on the importance of a good story and it immediately made a shitty ending even shittier. It turns the entire thing into edutainment, and trust me, there’s no quicker death to art than the artist trying to teach. Otherwise, I’m just glad Madeline Miller knows that an author only has to rely on the strength of their writing to carry a story. You know how I know George R.R. Martin will never be lauded as a unique voice in literature? Because of how easily his Dunk & Egg stories can be adapted into a graphic novel format. And look, I’m not saying the medium is lesser than literature, but when you can so easily adapt the work into a picture book with few changes and still walk away with the same amount of understanding, then you just know that its strength wasn’t in the writing. That’s like strictly listening to Kid’s Bop and then claiming you’re a Sabrina Carpenter Stan! Anyway, Galatea is a masterpiece because it understands that all you can do through art is paint a picture. You can preach all day about what people go through, “queer folk have it bad in this way”, “women have to deal with this”, but the sad truth is at the end of the day, they’re just words that can and will be ignored by the blissfully ignorant. What makes Madeline Miller’s work so impactful isn’t just that she reinterprets mythology with empathy for the unspoken, but that she also shows us what living as these people is like. I know that’s rather common, “show don’t tell”, but nobody puts you into someone’s headspace in a more visceral way than Madeline Miller. I’ll die on that hill! I mean, take that with a grain of sand, because I’ve died on ant hills before, but whenever the question is posed to me, there’s really no other author I can think of that weaves the same kind of magic with their pen in the same way that Miller does.
That four ears cannot hear him / That five walls cannot hide him / That six diggers cannot bury him / And that seven deaths shall never kill him.
July 7, 2018
For a short story, “Galatea” packs a wallop! I love Greek myths but they leave out much of the mortal emotions, and this book made Galatea’s story come alive. Her character is complex, independent, smart, and even funny. I thoroughly enjoyed Madeline Miller's fleshing-out of the relationship between Pygmalion and Galatea. Sure, she may seem better off being human... but she didn't ask for it, and she isn’t as happy as he thought she would be. Miller explored the cracks in Pygmalion’s personality and incorporated it into this retelling, making it more believable than the “happily ever after” promised in the original. This a sad story, but incredibly captivating and compelling.
January 6, 2026
Thought I’d read this before getting into Circe. In this short story, we are introduced to a reinterpretation of the myth of Galatea and Pygmalion.
Madeline’s take on Pygmalion does not differ drastically from Ovid’s. In both interpretations, he idealizes female purity and is deeply repulsed by the women around him. Consequently, he sculpts a woman from ivory/stone who ideally fits his projection—young, untouched, and “perfect”.
In Madeline Miller’s version, Galatea is constantly monitored by doctors and nurses, instructed to lie down and remain quiet. In this enforced silence, she is stripped of autonomy, voice, and agency. Her oppression, rooted in patriarchal control, is very pitiable, and I just can’t help but connect to her emotionally.
Much like most short stories, it can be difficult to incorporate all the necessary details to form a story that feels whole, especially when balancing emotional weight, plot, writing, and character development. In this case, I think Galatea captured certain aspects quite well—particularly the writing. Though it isn’t as poetic or lyrical as Circe or The Song of Achilles, the abruptness and pared-back narration captures Galatea’s thoughts and inner monologue remarkably. Then again, like most short stories, it’s also difficult to fully connect with and engage in a story that is so brief. While this story is very intriguing—and certainly important—it didn’t impact me quite as much as I expected.
On the whole, I found this to be an interesting read, touching feminism, misogyny, and abuse with clarity. In the end, it highlights the lengths Galatea is willing to go to prevent the same fate from befalling her daughter; showing that a mother’s love conquers all.
4 stars
Madeline’s take on Pygmalion does not differ drastically from Ovid’s. In both interpretations, he idealizes female purity and is deeply repulsed by the women around him. Consequently, he sculpts a woman from ivory/stone who ideally fits his projection—young, untouched, and “perfect”.
In Madeline Miller’s version, Galatea is constantly monitored by doctors and nurses, instructed to lie down and remain quiet. In this enforced silence, she is stripped of autonomy, voice, and agency. Her oppression, rooted in patriarchal control, is very pitiable, and I just can’t help but connect to her emotionally.
Much like most short stories, it can be difficult to incorporate all the necessary details to form a story that feels whole, especially when balancing emotional weight, plot, writing, and character development. In this case, I think Galatea captured certain aspects quite well—particularly the writing. Though it isn’t as poetic or lyrical as Circe or The Song of Achilles, the abruptness and pared-back narration captures Galatea’s thoughts and inner monologue remarkably. Then again, like most short stories, it’s also difficult to fully connect with and engage in a story that is so brief. While this story is very intriguing—and certainly important—it didn’t impact me quite as much as I expected.
On the whole, I found this to be an interesting read, touching feminism, misogyny, and abuse with clarity. In the end, it highlights the lengths Galatea is willing to go to prevent the same fate from befalling her daughter; showing that a mother’s love conquers all.
4 stars
January 17, 2023
3.5 rounded up!
Galatea by Madeline Miller is a brief reimagining of the Greek myth of Pygmalion. In the original story (found in Ovid’s Metamorphosis ) Pygmalion is a sculptor from Cyprus who falls in love with his ivory sculpture of a beautiful woman. Goddess Aphrodite grants his wish and bestows life on his creation. Pygmalion marries Galatea and they are assumed to live happily ever after. The myth has inspired numerous works of art, literature and productions on stage, on television and in movies. The Pygmalion Effect, a psychological phenomenon that links high expectations to increased productivity is also named after the Greek myth.
“Everyone looked at me, because I was the most beautiful woman in the town. I don’t say this to boast, because there is nothing in it to boast of. It was nothing I did myself.”
Madeline Miller’s feminist reimagining of the myth is dark and disturbing. Narrated from Galatea’s PoV, the story begins with her confined to a hospital bed, her plight a result of a failed effort to escape her controlling and obsessive husband with their daughter Paphos. Her husband visits her in her captivity, expecting her to conform to his wishes, keeping her away from her daughter, and informs her that he is working on a new sculpture of a young girl. Galatea feigns obedience all the while keenly observing her surroundings and planning her next move, ultimately leading to a shocking climax.
“The thing is, I don’t think my husband expected me to be able to talk. I don’t blame him for this exactly, since he had known me only as a statue, pure and beautiful and yielding to his art.”
Madeline Miller’s prose is elegant yet unflinchingly brutal. She turns the story around from a fairy-tale-like myth to the story of a woman trapped in a toxic, abusive relationship with a brutish husband. Miller portrays Pygmalion in an essentially unfavorable light, comparing his disgust for prostitutes and other women he has interacted with and his obsession with perfection and “pure” women who are capable of “blushing” to modern-day “incels”. Galatea’s bitterness, pain and rage are palpable as is her resolve to change the trajectory of her life. Given the short length of this story (the Kindle edition is a little over 50 pages), there isn’t much scope for exploring the characters or the myth in depth but overall this is a compelling read that I believe fans of feminist retellings of Greek myths would enjoy.
Galatea by Madeline Miller is a brief reimagining of the Greek myth of Pygmalion. In the original story (found in Ovid’s Metamorphosis ) Pygmalion is a sculptor from Cyprus who falls in love with his ivory sculpture of a beautiful woman. Goddess Aphrodite grants his wish and bestows life on his creation. Pygmalion marries Galatea and they are assumed to live happily ever after. The myth has inspired numerous works of art, literature and productions on stage, on television and in movies. The Pygmalion Effect, a psychological phenomenon that links high expectations to increased productivity is also named after the Greek myth.
“Everyone looked at me, because I was the most beautiful woman in the town. I don’t say this to boast, because there is nothing in it to boast of. It was nothing I did myself.”
Madeline Miller’s feminist reimagining of the myth is dark and disturbing. Narrated from Galatea’s PoV, the story begins with her confined to a hospital bed, her plight a result of a failed effort to escape her controlling and obsessive husband with their daughter Paphos. Her husband visits her in her captivity, expecting her to conform to his wishes, keeping her away from her daughter, and informs her that he is working on a new sculpture of a young girl. Galatea feigns obedience all the while keenly observing her surroundings and planning her next move, ultimately leading to a shocking climax.
“The thing is, I don’t think my husband expected me to be able to talk. I don’t blame him for this exactly, since he had known me only as a statue, pure and beautiful and yielding to his art.”
Madeline Miller’s prose is elegant yet unflinchingly brutal. She turns the story around from a fairy-tale-like myth to the story of a woman trapped in a toxic, abusive relationship with a brutish husband. Miller portrays Pygmalion in an essentially unfavorable light, comparing his disgust for prostitutes and other women he has interacted with and his obsession with perfection and “pure” women who are capable of “blushing” to modern-day “incels”. Galatea’s bitterness, pain and rage are palpable as is her resolve to change the trajectory of her life. Given the short length of this story (the Kindle edition is a little over 50 pages), there isn’t much scope for exploring the characters or the myth in depth but overall this is a compelling read that I believe fans of feminist retellings of Greek myths would enjoy.
January 26, 2019
("Pygmalion and Galatea" by Laurent Pêcheux, 1784)
Galatea is a short stand-alone story and normally I wouldn't have bothered with it. However! This is a story by Madeline Miller we're talking about here, author of the brilliant novels Circe and The Song of Achilles. I will read anything and everything she writes. This might just be a short story but it too is brilliant. Galatea is a woman whose husband is a sculptor and who is sculpted by him into the perfect woman. Afterwards, a goddess brings her to life.. Galatea's husband keeps her captive, wanting to keep her as she is. to preserve this woman he sees as a possession, this woman who embodies his idea of the perfect woman. He seeks to control her in every way, body and mind. However, Galatea does not truly belong to him and cannot fully be contained and controlled. The story is an examination of society's idea of a perfect woman and the objectification of women. It might be brief, but it is powerful. Madeline Miller has such a gift with words, with creating real characters you immediately care about and identify with. 5 stars, though I wish I could give it more. It is a beautiful story that feels like a song.
August 6, 2022
Retelling of Pygmalion and Galatea. Instead of the original "happy" ending, we see what the feelings of the perfect woman, created from stone and bought to life, might be. Miller has taken a previously obedient character and shown her to be trapped, controlled and desperate, giving her (and Pygmalion) a far more fitting end!
October 25, 2021
Questa recensione fa riferimento all'edizione curata da Sonzogno Editori.
Galatea è una statua greca trasformata in umana per soddisfare il desiderio del suo scultore Pigmalione. Questo libro è un viaggio nella mente di una donna molto consapevole di essere stata creata col solo scopo di compiacere un uomo. Donna, moglie e madre, senza che lei avesse voce in capitolo su nulla.
Ma se Pigmalione si aspetta di aver creato un essere servizievole, devoto e ubbidiente si sbaglia.
Ho amato questa edizione. Le illustrazioni a cura di Ambra Garlaschelli hanno reso un testo, che già era perfetto, in un'opera d'arte. Laddove non arriva la parola, arriva l'immagine.
Agonia e forza rappresentate in maniera così immediata ed eloquente, per quanto silenziosa, da lasciare senza fiato.
Temo possa essere un testo pesante e risultare addirittura noioso per i giovanissimi, quindi consiglio la lettura dai 16 anni.
Galatea è una statua greca trasformata in umana per soddisfare il desiderio del suo scultore Pigmalione. Questo libro è un viaggio nella mente di una donna molto consapevole di essere stata creata col solo scopo di compiacere un uomo. Donna, moglie e madre, senza che lei avesse voce in capitolo su nulla.
Ma se Pigmalione si aspetta di aver creato un essere servizievole, devoto e ubbidiente si sbaglia.
Ho amato questa edizione. Le illustrazioni a cura di Ambra Garlaschelli hanno reso un testo, che già era perfetto, in un'opera d'arte. Laddove non arriva la parola, arriva l'immagine.
Agonia e forza rappresentate in maniera così immediata ed eloquente, per quanto silenziosa, da lasciare senza fiato.
Temo possa essere un testo pesante e risultare addirittura noioso per i giovanissimi, quindi consiglio la lettura dai 16 anni.
March 21, 2020
Came across this one and was surprised to find a short story by Miller I hadn’t known about. I found the interpretation of Galatea’s story interesting, seeing how the transformation from statue to human might (or might not) fit into society. I didn’t entirely gather what was going on in the beginning with the visits from doctors etc, but it didn’t take long for the bizarre situation to feel like a “new normal”. I would’ve loved to see this as a full novel, but as a snippet of a retelling it proved to be an interesting one. Too short to gain any full attachment/strong opinions, but a fun idea to work with nonetheless.
May 21, 2024
“I felt him looking at me, admiring his work. He had not carved me like this, but he was imagining doing it. A beautiful statue, named The Supplicant.”
I have become a die-hard Miller fan after reading and adoring Circe and The Song of Achilles, and while I was unfamiliar with the source material here I found Galatea as immersive as it was unsettling. This is a VERY short story, and even still, I was fully invested in Galatea and her situation. I love how blunt and scathing Miller is here, portraying the righteous anger of a woman objectified, used, abused, and belittled at every turn, forced to hide her intelligence and strength of character to appeal to an insecure, disgusting, immature man.
This is a tough, if quick read, with a satisfying and poetic ending that felt utterly cathartic.
I only wish it was novella or even novel length so I could revel in Miller's gorgeous, evocative prose and sumptuous character development a little longer!
And now, here I sit, eagerly awaiting Miller's next work with bated breath.
Trigger/Content Warnings: domestic abuse (physical, emotional, verbal, sexual), sexual assault, misogyny, slut shaming, fatphobia, confinement, drugging, death
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I have become a die-hard Miller fan after reading and adoring Circe and The Song of Achilles, and while I was unfamiliar with the source material here I found Galatea as immersive as it was unsettling. This is a VERY short story, and even still, I was fully invested in Galatea and her situation. I love how blunt and scathing Miller is here, portraying the righteous anger of a woman objectified, used, abused, and belittled at every turn, forced to hide her intelligence and strength of character to appeal to an insecure, disgusting, immature man.
This is a tough, if quick read, with a satisfying and poetic ending that felt utterly cathartic.
I only wish it was novella or even novel length so I could revel in Miller's gorgeous, evocative prose and sumptuous character development a little longer!
And now, here I sit, eagerly awaiting Miller's next work with bated breath.
Trigger/Content Warnings: domestic abuse (physical, emotional, verbal, sexual), sexual assault, misogyny, slut shaming, fatphobia, confinement, drugging, death
You can find me on...
Youtube | Instagram | TikTok
You can join our book club over on Patreon...
PBB Book Club
Thank you to Libro.fm for the free influencer copy of this audiobook!
March 9, 2022
"I felt him looking at me, admiring his work. He had not carved me like this, but he was imagining doing it. A beautiful statue, named The Supplicant. He could have sold me and lived like a king in Araby."
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
⚠️Trigger Warning: Coarse language, domestic abuse, violence, body shaming⚠️
❗This review contains spoilers❗
I will forever and ever and ever love Madeline Miller. It's like she's incapable of writing anything less than perfect. She is absolutely amazing, even though she always rips my heart right out of my chest and crushes it between her fingers using only her words. It's the toxic kind of love between us but I could never walk away. It's why I based my bachelor's dissertation on her books. I mean, how could I not? They are masterpieces.
Yeap! Miller's done it again. In literally 20 little pages, she's made me fall in love with a new character, reminded me of a myth long lost in my memories, and reminded me of the woes of being a woman. If any of you think 'Oh, it's just a little story, 20 pages long, it couldn't possibly hurt me', then you're WRONG. So so wrong!!! Galatea's retelling destroyed me. There's nothing left of me, anymore. Galatea's story is a tragic one, the kind only Greeks and Madeline Miller like to write about (duuh), full of domestic violence, oppression, objectification, and most important of all, sweet sweet revenge. Galatea avenged herself and her daughter on that monstrous human filth, Pygmalion, like a godsdamned BADASS. She doomed herself too in the process but what else would you expect from Greek mythology...and Miller. It was all very heartbreaking and bittersweet...even though the story started with Galatea staring at a nurse's big, hairy mole 😅😅
Galatea is this brave, beautiful, intelligent person, surviving Pygmalion's wrath and oppression for so long, and trying to shield her daughter from him. She figured out how to manipulate him, to get him to do what she wanted without him realising, something she applied on others as well. Even though her first attempt at escaping his clutches with her daughter failed, the second time was final. She may have sacrificed herself to punish and end him, but she saved her daughter and the newest statue come alive, that of a disturbingly young girl, also created by Pygmalion for his own pleasure. There was nothing more satisfying than reading about her holding him tightly in place with her marble strength as they both sunk underwater and she watched him drown slowly, imagined him being feasted on by the aquatic life as she was left intact (because she's marble). But, also reading about her slowly feeling the cold creeping up her limbs and losing her senses. I cried, guys. I cried hard.
I am definitely mentioning this masterpiece on my paper!!
June 24, 2025
amazing but i wish it was a full novel
July 3, 2023
|| 4.0 stars ||
The classical myth of Galatea and Pygmalion is commonly known as an epic love story, but I found this retelling to be a much more realistic interpretation.
After all, it was Pygmalion's disdain for women and his belief that all of them were whores unworthy of his time that drove him to create his own "perfect" woman; first as a statue while later bringing her to life with the help of Aphrodite.
Taking that in mind, was I honestly meant to believe that, with a misogynistic and revolting motivation as that, he would have treated his "perfect" woman in any other way than what this story showed us? I think not. This is exactly the kind of man he would have been: a filthy, creepy, disgusting pig.
There was absolutely no love involved in any part of their story; only control, condescension and rape. Galatea was a victim, not a product of true love.
Madeline Miller books:
The Song of Achilles - 5.0 stars
Circe - 5.0 stars
Galatea - 4.0 stars
The classical myth of Galatea and Pygmalion is commonly known as an epic love story, but I found this retelling to be a much more realistic interpretation.
After all, it was Pygmalion's disdain for women and his belief that all of them were whores unworthy of his time that drove him to create his own "perfect" woman; first as a statue while later bringing her to life with the help of Aphrodite.
Taking that in mind, was I honestly meant to believe that, with a misogynistic and revolting motivation as that, he would have treated his "perfect" woman in any other way than what this story showed us? I think not. This is exactly the kind of man he would have been: a filthy, creepy, disgusting pig.
There was absolutely no love involved in any part of their story; only control, condescension and rape. Galatea was a victim, not a product of true love.
Madeline Miller books:
The Song of Achilles - 5.0 stars
Circe - 5.0 stars
Galatea - 4.0 stars
January 22, 2021
“I felt him looking at me, admiring his work. He had not carved me like this, but he was imagining doing it. A beautiful statue, named The Supplicant.”― Madeline Miller, Galatea
My review:
I have always adored Mythology. So when I saw this short story, a reimagined version of Pygmalion and Galatea I knew I had to read it.
This story was quite different than the original and quite sad. Actually bitterly sad. Galatea is a sweet and strong woman who is miserable under the relentless control of her husband. Pygmalion is an abusive and angry man who is jealous of everyone and everything his wife loves and keeps her locked away, a virtual prisoner after she tried to run from him once.
To be honest, while I was glad to read this, I didn't fall in love with it as others have said in their reviews they did. Not because it is not written beautifully and hauntingly which it is, but because it was shorter then I realized and over almost before it began. I'd have liked it more as a novella I think.
I'd still recommend it, especially to anyone who loves the original story or loves Mythology in general which I do. I would like to read more of this author's work. I have not read anything by her and I wonder if she has written any other reimagined Mythological fables. I'd love to see more so if anyone reading this knows of any, let me know. I'd love to see one about Echo and Narcissus and Atalanta and Meleager.
In any event, I did enjoy this sad little tale and the cover art is magnificent.3.5 stars.
My review:
I have always adored Mythology. So when I saw this short story, a reimagined version of Pygmalion and Galatea I knew I had to read it.
This story was quite different than the original and quite sad. Actually bitterly sad. Galatea is a sweet and strong woman who is miserable under the relentless control of her husband. Pygmalion is an abusive and angry man who is jealous of everyone and everything his wife loves and keeps her locked away, a virtual prisoner after she tried to run from him once.
To be honest, while I was glad to read this, I didn't fall in love with it as others have said in their reviews they did. Not because it is not written beautifully and hauntingly which it is, but because it was shorter then I realized and over almost before it began. I'd have liked it more as a novella I think.
I'd still recommend it, especially to anyone who loves the original story or loves Mythology in general which I do. I would like to read more of this author's work. I have not read anything by her and I wonder if she has written any other reimagined Mythological fables. I'd love to see more so if anyone reading this knows of any, let me know. I'd love to see one about Echo and Narcissus and Atalanta and Meleager.
In any event, I did enjoy this sad little tale and the cover art is magnificent.3.5 stars.
January 13, 2022
never have i hated someone as much as i hate Pygmalion. electric chair for this disgusting human feces pile, i'm sorry - well actually i'm not :)
November 8, 2022
Madeline Miller tiene una forma muy particular de ver las historias míticas. Y eso es lo que más disfruto de leerla.
La historia de Galatea y Pigmalión siempre se ha visto como una historia de amor, pero en la actualidad, solo podemos encontrar misoginia y manipulación. Una gran reflexión sobre la importancia de ver las dos caras de la moneda.
Es un libro corto (se lee en max. 30 min), pero que no necesita de muchos párrafos para atraparte y moverte por dentro. Fue una historia triste y agonizante, con lo que me gustaría decir que fue un final feliz. Pero la verdad es que no.
Aunque eso si, siento que la traducción no es la mejor. La redacción es deficiente en algunas partes.
Lo disfruté mucho. Recomendado.
La historia de Galatea y Pigmalión siempre se ha visto como una historia de amor, pero en la actualidad, solo podemos encontrar misoginia y manipulación. Una gran reflexión sobre la importancia de ver las dos caras de la moneda.
Es un libro corto (se lee en max. 30 min), pero que no necesita de muchos párrafos para atraparte y moverte por dentro. Fue una historia triste y agonizante, con lo que me gustaría decir que fue un final feliz. Pero la verdad es que no.
Aunque eso si, siento que la traducción no es la mejor. La redacción es deficiente en algunas partes.
Lo disfruté mucho. Recomendado.
August 19, 2022
A short story that packs a lot in!
Galatea is the wife of a sculptor, he made her from stone and then she was brought to life by the goddess.
However her husband doesn’t anticipate her coming to life with feelings and opinions - how inconvenient.
So he sticks her in what is effectively an asylum - where she is drugged and kept by doctors and nurses.
But Galatea isn’t willing to give up, so she hatches a plan to escape and exact revenge on her despicable husband.
I loved the authors note at the end which explained her inspiration from Pygmalion - a story referred to by Ovid in his Metamorphoses. In the original, Galatea isn’t even named. So Miller flips the tale on its head and portrays it for what it truly is - a misogynistic’s man’s attempt to control a woman for his own means.
So much covered in such a short story, I was blown away.
Galatea is the wife of a sculptor, he made her from stone and then she was brought to life by the goddess.
However her husband doesn’t anticipate her coming to life with feelings and opinions - how inconvenient.
So he sticks her in what is effectively an asylum - where she is drugged and kept by doctors and nurses.
But Galatea isn’t willing to give up, so she hatches a plan to escape and exact revenge on her despicable husband.
I loved the authors note at the end which explained her inspiration from Pygmalion - a story referred to by Ovid in his Metamorphoses. In the original, Galatea isn’t even named. So Miller flips the tale on its head and portrays it for what it truly is - a misogynistic’s man’s attempt to control a woman for his own means.
So much covered in such a short story, I was blown away.
March 19, 2022
I am not afraid of God, I am afraid of men
March 8, 2023
Fajne na raz, ale wydanie tak małej książeczki wydaje się jedynie skokiem na kasę
December 30, 2024
reread, 2026
i reread this in honor of miss paris paloma and her good girl music video because i spotted soooo many similarities, and it was just as quick and gorgeous the second time. i seriously love her afterword in this, and i really appreciated it this time around in the context of galatea being a mother wanting to save her daughter from the same future. still such a great mix of ancient mysticism and modern thinking. loved it once more!
--
original review, 2024
i agree with other reviewers. madeline, write the full novel!!!
i thought this story was great on its own but loved it even more with a quick explanation afterward. i can totally see the influence from other feminist works. it was so lovely getting to experience some new writing from her, even just for a short story!
i reread this in honor of miss paris paloma and her good girl music video because i spotted soooo many similarities, and it was just as quick and gorgeous the second time. i seriously love her afterword in this, and i really appreciated it this time around in the context of galatea being a mother wanting to save her daughter from the same future. still such a great mix of ancient mysticism and modern thinking. loved it once more!
--
original review, 2024
i agree with other reviewers. madeline, write the full novel!!!
i thought this story was great on its own but loved it even more with a quick explanation afterward. i can totally see the influence from other feminist works. it was so lovely getting to experience some new writing from her, even just for a short story!
Want to Read
July 2, 2020I will read everything by Madeline Miller
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