This was my second holiday read after The Wicked Girls by Alex Marwood and it couldn't have been more different. I'd actually been saving up Madeline Miller's recreation of the Trojan War for aaaages (since before it won the Orange Prize so I claim retroactive smugness) as I suspected I'd love it and would want to enjoy it without distraction.
And I was right. This is a gorgeous book: rich yet modern, moving and lyrical. Miller has chosen to retell part of the story of the Trojan War from the perspective of Patroclus, whom she casts as Achilles' lover. I have to admit I had to do a little googling to remember the bare bones of the Achilles / Patroclus story; I vaguely remembered from my GCSE Latin my teacher telling us about Achilles grieving over Patroclus and my thinking "oh, they must have been such good friends". Well, while the Iliad itself doesn't do much more apparently than allude to a romantic relationship between the two, Miller foregrounds the love affair between these two very different men and in doing so refreshes the story of the Trojan War, possibly even opening it up to a wider audience. Whilst I can't see that many women readers warming to the story of a siege, The Song of Achilles is the story of a love affair in wartime.
Chunks of the story itself were familiar to me: the abduction of Helen (I could never remember whether it was Menelaus or Agamemnon who she was married to, but I certainly won't forget after Miller's vivid portrait of Agamemnon as a jealous, bitter rival to Achilles); Hector being dragged around the ramparts; Priam pleading for his son's body. Achilles and his role I was less sure of - a hero, a helmet and a heel was about as far as my memory went.
Miller begins the story with Patroclus' childhood. Initially an unappealing young boy, Patroclus commits an accidental murder and is banished to Pthion, of which the demi-god Achilles is prince. While Achilles at first seems to disdain Patroclus, over time they grow to be friends and, eventually, lovers. However, destiny hangs over Achilles. His sea-nymph mother Thetis - who hates Patroclus with a grim passion - warns him that to fulfil his destiny as a famous warrior he must die at Troy. Patroclus and Achilles unwillingly set out for Troy and their fate...
To say that Miller breathes life into the Iliad would be to do a disservice to both her and the original text. The rich and ambiguous source material has inspired her to create a new, modern love story. Patroclus' voice is a triumph: as the narrator of the story, he paints for us a picture of Achilles as supremely human and supremely inhuman, at the same time as conveying his own flaws. But Patroclus turns out to be the real hero of the story - the best of the Greeks - and Miller's skill as an author is in creating a fully real human being in Patroclus with whom we admire, pity and empathise.
I must mention the chilling portrait of the sea-nymph Thetis. A modern reader might be tempted to see ancient gods almost as cartoon characters, but Miller paints Thetis as a terrifying presence. The description of her is so powerfully chilling that I nearly felt the rough waves of the sea coming off the page when she appears. Yet so rich is this novel that, by the end, we can pity even her.
The conclusion of the story must have posed a problem for Miller. Patroclus is our first person narrator, but we know (if we've remembered our GCSE Latin) that his death comes before Achilles'. Miller's means of overcoming this narrative obstacle is perfectly in keeping with the genre of her novel, and, after some initial scepticism, I was thoroughly convinced.
The language and style employed by Miller is both unique and utterly appropriate for this classical tale. Again, my memory is a little blurred, but I remember a lot about Homeric epithets: figurative language such as "the wine-dark sea" repeated in the Iliad for both vividness and for aid of recall of the original storyteller. Miller updates these in creating rich, figurative and sensual prose which is a feast for the reader. The description of Thetis' voice is a case in point: compared to rocks grinding in the sea, we hear the harsh, loud and rasping tones plainly and vividly as she speaks.
I can't really do this fabulous novel justice in a blogpost; suffice to say it was a more than worthy, and possibly a brave choice for the Orange prize. It deserves a huge readership and I really hope it gets one. A perfect choice for a book group, it would also be enjoyed by older teenagers. Or just about anybody. Read it at all costs!
