Great Circle is an epic and emotional journey through the life of a daredevil female aviator determined to chart her own course in life, at any cost. This monumental work of art spans from Prohibition-era Montana to wartime London, and from the rugged shores of New Zealand to the icy wilderness of Antarctica.

Marian and Jamie Graves, rescued as infants from a sinking ocean liner in 1914, are raised by their dissolute uncle in Missoula, Montana. Here, Marian begins her lifelong love affair with flight after encountering barnstorming pilots. She drops out of school at fourteen, and a wealthy bootlegger subsidizes her lessons, providing a plane—an arrangement that will haunt her throughout her life and allows her to pursue her destiny: circumnavigating the globe by flying over the North and South Poles.

A century later, Hadley Baxter, a film star trapped by the claustrophobia of Hollywood and her cult celebrity status, is cast to play Marian. As Hadley immerses herself into the character of Marian, the fates of the two women intertwine, each pursuing self-determination in different times and geographies, culminating in Marian's mysterious disappearance in Antarctica.

Great Circle is not just a story of adventure and ambition, but also a portrayal of the hunger for self-determination in vastly different circumstances. Maggie Shipstead delivers a tremendously told tale that is meticulously researched and gloriously recounted, making it a tremendous leap forward for this prodigiously gifted author.

Imaginez une Terre poncée, avec en son centre une bande de cinq mille kilomètres de large et sur ses franges un miroir de glace à peine rayable, inhabité.

Imaginez qu’un vent féroce en rince la surface. Que les villages qui s’y sont accrochés, avec leurs maisons en goutte d’eau, les chars à voile qui la strient, les airpailleurs debout en plein flot, tous résistent.

Imaginez qu’en Extrême-Aval ait été formé un bloc d’élite d’une vingtaine d’enfants aptes à remonter au cran, rafale en gueule, leur vie durant, le vent jusqu’à sa source, à ce jour jamais atteinte : l’Extrême-Amont.

Mon nom est Sov Strochnis, scribe. Mon nom est Caracole le troubadour et Oroshi Melicerte, aéromaître. Je m’appelle aussi Golgoth, traceur de la Horde, Arval l’éclaireur et parfois même Larco lorsque je braconne l’azur à la cage volante. Ensemble, nous formons la Horde du Contrevent.

Il en a existé trente-trois en huit siècles, toutes infructueuses. Je vous parle au nom de la trente-quatrième : sans doute l’ultime.