2.5 stars.

I am liable to be particularly critical of a work like this because I know the source material very well — for this reason I tend to avoid modern ‘takes’ on Ancient Greek history and myth. This was a rare instance where a book in this field made such a splash that I felt compelled to check it out, and overall I understand the appeal even if my own awareness of the subject matter drudges up some very specific gripes.

The strongest part of the book by far was the writing: Miller has balanced the poetry and plainness of speaking that characterises Homeric poetry very effectively, and Patroclus’ narrative voice is clear and consistent throughout. In this respect the novel is a solid piece of work. Some mythological details were also stylishly handled: for instance, I usually find the myth of Achilles’ identity reveal at Skyros implausible, but it is well rendered in the following passage, which also reflects some of the poetic writing quite well:

“Before the final blast was finished, Achilles had swept up one of the silvered swords and flung off its kidskin sheath. The table blocked his path to the door; he leaped it in a blur, his other hand grabbing a spear from it as he passed. He landed and the weapons were already lifted, held with a deadly poise that was like no girl, nor no man either. The greatest warrior of his generation.”

The above passage is my favourite of the book for how I feel it encompasses the strongest aspects. However, I had a lot of issues with the smaller details of the narrative.

First of all, there is absolutely nothing wrong with the interpretation that Achilles and Patroclus were lovers: this is clearly suggested in the tender homoeroticism of the vase pictured above, and textually in a surviving fragment of Aeschylus’ Myrmidons which references their “frequent kisses”, and various passages of Plato, who famously argued that the ideal army would be comprised of male homosexual couples, on the basis that each man would be motivated to fight more bravely in front of his lover. The Iliad is ambiguous about the exact nature of their relationship; the terms used have been interpreted differently depending on the translator, but the parallel drawn between the Meleager/Cleopatra story and the Achilles/Patroclus relationship arguably implies a romantic relationship. This vase, Aeschylus’ plays, and Plato’s writings are all dated to the late 6th or 5th century BC, so about 200 years later than the Iliad, but they nevertheless show that this was a common interpretation of their relationship in the Classical period, and it’s not impossible that such interpretations existed earlier too. The author herself says that she “stole it” from Plato.

However, it is worth noting that Classical interpretations viewed their relationship through a pederastic lens, assuming a relationship in which an older male figure (the erastēs mentors and cares for a male youth (the eromenos), so they would not have been peers in age as they are in this novel, though it is disputed which man filled which role. I also find it difficult to reconcile this with various myths in which Achilles has romantic entanglements with women, particularly Deidamia, Briseis, and Penthesilea. In this narrative, Achilles only sleeps with Deiadamia unwillingly, and doesn’t sleep with Briseis at all. This seems a rather implausible interpretation to me, but Miller for some reason is insistent on the interpretation that Achilles is gay, not bisexual, and perhaps disliked the idea that he was disloyal to Patroclus. To attribute this behaviour to ‘compulsory heterosexuality’ would also be anachronistic, since same-sex relationships between men were generally considered acceptable, and the idea that such unions are shameful is more of a Christian attitude which comes much later; this is something I think the novel gets wrong. Another cultural blindspot is that, in epic poetry, men weep without shame, so Peleus’ weeping would not be so remarkable as it is made out to be, nor Achilles’ towards the end of the narrative.

I was surprised by some of the cultural errors like those of the above, since Miller has solid credentials in this area, having studied Classics and being a teacher of the subject. During the period when Achilles is hiding in Skyros, disguised as a woman, Deidamia calls him ἀπαθής (apathēs), which we’re told is a male-gendered word that thus reveals Achilles’ identity as a man in disguise as a woman. However, apathēs is a compound adjective (a , ‘not’, + pathēs, ‘feeling’), and compound adjectives in Ancient Greek have the same masculine and feminine forms. This is grammatically wrong, and the scene therefore makes no sense. (See here and here for details.)

Despite this book winning the Orange Prize for women’s fiction, it struck me that the role of women is quite heavily downplayed for the sake of the author’s choice of interpretation. I thought Thetis’ characterisation was effective and mostly pretty accurate, but there is heavy reinterpretation of the story: Peleus’ and Thetis’ marriage is quite an important detail in the myth, so I was surprised this was left out. There was also still the possibility of Achilles becoming a god as she wished, even if he died, and Patroclus could potentially have been made a god as well (since this is possible for mortals in some cases, such as that of Ganymede), so I didn’t see this as such an obstacle as it was presented. I also noticed that Thetis’ name is mispronounced in the audiobook — it’s Θέτις, with a short ‘e’. On the other hand, Briseis is portrayed as not much more than a hanger-on to Achilles’ and Patroclus’ coupling, and while I was glad Penthesilea was eventually included, her actual significance in myth is heavily reduced. According to the original story, detailed in the epic poem the Aithiopis (which itself is lost, but the story of which can be pieced together in later references), Penthesilea meets Achilles in battle and is defeated by him, but the two of them fall in love as their eyes meet, right before he stabs his spear into her. This famous vase depicts the moment:



In the epic, Thersites mocks Achilles by saying that he fell in love with her, and Achilles kills him in response. Some quite powerful mythic moments like this are overlooked in favour of a more male-centric narrative.

Despite the war being the crux of the story, it actually takes the narrative a long time for them to reach Troy. Despite this, it seems like Achilles didn’t take much time to get to know the other Myrmidons, and we see little of his relationship with them (in this narrative, he was trained alone, and spent most of his youth away from Phthia). Achilles’ famous anger is another conspicuous absence: this is his defining characteristic in the Iliad, but we never see this trait at all in the pre-war section of the narrative. In the Iliad he is not just angry with Agamemnon (or, later, with Hector), but actively prays for the Greeks to die. Similarly, Patroclus doesn’t seem particularly rash nor impulsive, so his decision to put on the armour and impersonate Achilles comes out of nowhere. He is also supposed to be a pretty good warrior, even if he can’t measure up to Achilles. Like Troy, a lot of the magical aspects are more downplayed; the immortal horses are included in the narrative, but they never talk, and any activity from gods other than Thetis takes place almost entirely ‘off-screen’. I found it a bit strange that no one apparently knew what had happened to Paris after his duel with Menelaus went south — I suppose he just disappeared? — whereas in the Iliad Aphrodite rescues him and spirits him back to Troy. I did really like the Apollo cameo at Patroclus’ death — this presumably implies the god are there, even if Patroclus doesn’t usually get to see them, but Achilles would have had direct interactions with Athena by this point in the narrative, and would have fought Hector with her beside him later on. In the Iliad, Achilles’ interactions with the gods are key to conveying his lofty status, and it’s certainly not just confined to his own mother.

I understand there is a certain amount of room for creative license, but all of this stacked up to a rather loose interpretation of the source material in the end, and I’m not sure the deviations were worth it for the sake of the result. Presumably the ‘song’ of Achilles, in the end, is the one that Patroclus narrates for us in remembrance of him, but the version we get is so far off from Achilles’ actual life — in the end he chose a glorious death at Troy over everything else, including a long life with Patroclus, but his nonchalant characterisation doesn’t serve to reflect that. For this reason, it doesn’t make sense to defend this particular interpretation of their relationship based on its accuracy to myth, because we can only rely on the legitimacy that gives the narrative if the story dovetails closely to the original myth itself. Either it’s true to myth, or…not.