Friday Book Reviews: The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

The term “Homeric,” or relating to the style of Homer, stirs up thoughts of overripe prose, sweeping, epic plots, and a series of audacious, god-like warriors who are the embodiment of the word “heroic”. In The Iliad, Homer covers the quarrels and fighting near the end of the Trojan War and establishes the demi-god warrior Achilles as the central character. In the epic, after Agamemnon, king of Mycenae and commander of all Greeks, seized the captive girl Briseis from Achilles during their siege of Troy, the insulted warrior refused to continue his service for the king. It wasn’t until the death of his beloved friend Patroculus on the battlefield, that Achilles was hurled back onto the battleground, slaughtering masses of Trojans and establishing himself due to his rage and ruthlessness.

But who was Patroclus? Why did his death devastate the conceited Achilles? And who was Achilles? Why did Homer choose to base the epic on his wrath?

Madeline Miller, author of The Song of Achilles, had the same questions.Thus, she decided to base her debut novel on the romantic relationship between Patroclus and Achilles, drawing tenderness and sensibility out of Homer’s virile, bloodless war account. The story starts with the feeble, awkward, young prince Patroclus, who is exiled to the kingdom of Phthia after accidentally killing an aristocratic boy. There he meets “the best of all Greeks,” the golden, eye-catching Achilles who takes Patroclus as his squire. Together, the two boys embark on many journeys, as their relationship blossoms from intimate friends to dearest lovers.

Yet, fate is never far from the heels of Achilles and when their world shifts from the homely cave of their mentor Chiron to the bloody battlefields of Troy, the familiar version of the story, crimson-colored and filled with bloodshed, slowly unfolds, as Patroclus and Achilles cling onto each other in a disintegrating world. 

Even for someone who read The Iliad before The Song of Achilles and knows the tragic ending,  I still shed tears upon reaching the stirring conclusion.  I was not only moved by the forlorn lovers or Miller’s ability to find love beneath the bloodshed and fury; I was touched by her attempt to humanize historical characters. In The Iliad, Achilles was simply a killer—a sulky, merciless, and temperamental murderer who slaughtered innumerable Trojans. Homer portrayed Achilles as a flat hero, indestructible and incomparable to any other characters: faster, sharper, brighter and more superior. However, in The Song of Achilles, Achilles was three-dimensional—he was a lover, son, father, and musician first, and a warrior last. Same for Patroclus, who is no longer portrayed as a shadow of his god-like friend but a determined individual who is torn between love and fear. And Briseis, the slave girl whose voice was degraded in The Iliad to merely one line, found her warmhearted characterization in the novel. Therefore, under the context of Song of Achilles, the opening line of The Iliad  no longer captures the temperament of Achilles thoroughly, “Sing, O goddess, the anger [mênis] of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.” In Miller’s retelling, the story finds its form through the interweaving decisions of these  complex and multi-dimensional characters. As Patroclus said, The book profoundly captures this poetic and humane side of classics with moments such as Patroclus proclaiming he “ wanted to be able to listen, to digest the bloody images, to paint them flat and unremarkable onto the vase of posterity. To release him from it and make him Achilles again.” 

Many scrutinize the inaccuracy in Miller’s retelling of  The Iliad. Indeed, Patroclus’ character is significantly underestimated In The Iliad, under Achilles's armor, he led the Myrmidons, pushing the Trojans back nearly to the city gates and killing Sarpedon, son of Zeus, Whereas in The Song of Achilles, he “[wasn’t able to] kill anyone, or even attempt to.” To some diehard classics fans, this is one of the novel’s slight imperfections as parts of the story are different from Homer’s original account. Personally, however, that impreciseness did not impede my reading experience. The Iliad was written sometime in 8th century BCE, and the Trojan War, if it even existed, could be dated to Mycenaean Greece at the end of the Bronze Age, where little evidence can be found of its details. To me, the enchantment of classics lies not in factual events but in eloquent storytelling: whether Achilles is as brutal as described in the Iliad, or if Patroclus is as feeble as painted in The Song of Achilles, we will never know. What we do know is their lingering aspirations, courage, and love make the study of classics meaningful. What Miller achieved through her novel is that she retold the story in deeply touching words and encouraged the readers to create their distinct versions of the epic as well.

I want to use a quote from the novel to conclude this review: “Fame is a strange thing. Some men gain glory after they die, while others fade. What is admired in one generation is abhorred in another.” The Song of Achilles not only offers an impressive retelling of one of the most primitive works of human literature but also opens a window for us to view historical characters three-dimensionally. History itself is often a mere collection of warfare, treaties, and death; however, our endeavors to add a poetic, humane tinge to these horrific events through literature allow us to reflect on and learn from those collective experiences.