Definition of Foreshadowing
In Chapter 9, when she introduces Daedalus for the first time, Circe uses a metaphor to describe the kind of mortals who capture the gods' attention. The metaphor foreshadows the death of Daedalus's son, and it also gestures toward Circe's choice to become mortal:
Of all the mortals on the earth, there are only a few the gods will ever hear of. Consider the practicalities. By the time we learn their names, they are dead. They must be meteors indeed to catch our attention. The merely good: you are dust to us.
In Chapter 11, Daedalus introduces Circe to his son. Miller makes an allusion that foreshadows the tragedy soon to befall Daedalus:
Unlock with LitCharts A+I stared. I had not even considered that Daedalus’ secret could be a child. The boy knelt, like an infant courtier.
“Noble lady,” he piped. “I welcome you to my father’s house.”
“Thank you,” I said. “And are you a good boy, for your father?”
He nodded seriously. “Oh, yes.”
Daedalus laughed. “Don’t believe a word. He looks sweet as cream, but he does what he wants.” The boy smiled at his father. It was an old joke between them.
In Chapter 13, Jason and Medea come to Aiaia hoping for katharsis, a cleansing ritual, after they steal away from Aeëtes and kill his favorite son (Medea's brother). Before they reveal all this or even tell Circe their names, Circe describes them with heightened dramatic irony and foreshadowing:
Unlock with LitCharts A+The pair moved towards me gracefully and without hesitation, as if they were expected guests. They knelt at my feet and the woman held her hands up, long-fingered and bare of any adornment. Her veil was arranged so that not one strand of hair showed beneath it. Her chin stayed resolutely down, concealing her face.
In Chapter 16, Circe asks Odysseus why he went to war in the first place. His response strikes her as a paradox, and it also foreshadows what is ahead for Circe and her son:
Unlock with LitCharts A+He rubbed at his cheek. “Oh, because of a foolish oath I swore. I tried to get out of it. My son was a year old, and I still felt new-married. There would be other glories, I thought, and when Agamemnon’s man came to collect me I pretended to be mad. I went out naked and began plowing a winter field. He put my infant son in the blade’s path. I stopped, of course, and so I was collected with the rest.”
A bitter paradox, I thought: to keep his son he had to lose him.
At the start of Chapter 17, Circe comments on the situational irony of Odysseus's restless sleeping patterns. Little does she know that this irony foreshadows what is to come in this chapter:
Unlock with LitCharts A+For most men [sleep is] a reminder of the stillness that waits at the end of days. But Odysseus’ slumber was like his life, tossed and restless, heavy with murmurs that made my wolves prick up their ears. I watched him in the pearl-gray light of dawn: the tremors of his face, the striving tension in his shoulders. He twisted the sheets as if they were opponents he tried to throw in a wrestling match. A year of peaceful days he had stayed with me, and still every night he went to war.