A review by tsar
The Song of Achilles, by Madeline Miller

challenging dark emotional lighthearted sad medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes

5.0

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.” 

I've been putting off The Song of Achilles review for weeks because I have no idea what to say, honestly. It feels like a blank page every time I want to write it down, and I think the book hangover is strong with this one, so I will be making this review as brief as possible.

If any of us is familiar with the famous Homer's Iliad, then The Song of Achilles is the modern, reimagined adaptation of the Greek epic poem. The story is set during the Trojan War, recounting the subsequent quarrels between King Agamemnon and warrior hero Achilles during the ten-year siege of the city of Troy. While the dialectic poem is written from the outsider's view, the retelling novel by Madeline Miller sees the events through the eyes of Patroclus.

In retrospect, I have dived into a Miller novel before; Circe, her second book, was my first introduction to her writing style, so I have an idea of what kind of retelling she would offer in her debut novel. Miller establishes a distinctive manner in narration compared to her peers in the fantasy and mythology genre, especially regarding a reimagined myth. It is evident in both works that she has a penchant for adhering to the original source instead of simply treating it as a mere inspiration, transforming her stories into a dynamic bridge between fictionalized recount and a true story.

Its tumultuous dynamic in The Song of Achilles is credited to Miller's characterization of Patroclus as the protagonist in the novel. Patroclus is a sentimental narrator who spends the course of the tale attempting (and succeeding) in convincing the readers that his version of Achilles, from his adolescent age to the years of siege, is the authentic version of the story. Miller has no qualms in alluding to Patroclus' prominent adoration for Achilles, more often than not downplaying his own strength to magnify Achilles' power beyond the prophecy bestowed on the golden boy. In return, the notion of keeping his admiration afloat towards Achilles often renders Patroclus' own narrative to be inferior and seemingly disposable, despite the obvious hints and appreciation from his Greek peers, especially Achilles himself, that Patroclus is a pivotal key player in their journey and subsequent war as a confidant.

Much like any first-person point-of-view novel, the usage of the perspective transcends the narrative into a reading of a personal journal—it feels more honest and unfiltered as if the readers are participating in the story as the narrators' companions or the narrators themselves. However, if Circe serves as a semi-autobiographical piece that maintains neutrality in almost all chapters, The Song of Achilles presents a more arousing recount thanks to the sentimentality that Patroclus exudes in his story. The intimacy in the tone of the novel is hard to miss, so substantial to the point where the readers feel like they are intruding on Patroclus and Achilles' time together and disturbing their much-needed peace.

As a result, Miller succeeds in gauging the readers' reactions as they follow through with Patroclus and Achilles' story until its ending; we have experienced the emotions of happiness and joy in seeing them together, giddiness in watching them sneaking out to kiss and realize their intimacy, forlorn and frustration towards the unfairness of their situation and the harsh rejection that Thetis keeps demonstrating, and lastly, heartbreak towards their devastating fate. Seldom can a novel bring out so many emotions at once, particularly since its initial introduction, but Miller proves that her debut is one of those novels.

While the narrative is dripping in subjectiveness, the characters shown in the novel mostly stay true to the mythology that Miller pays homage to, such as Achilles' arrogance and aloofness as well as his apparent favoritism towards Patroclus. The kings' portrayals, including their horrendous habits in claiming anything as war prizes, are bluntly described without watering them down—neither a hero nor villain in Miller's point of view, just merely men filled with greediness and bruised ego. Even Thetis' incredulous vicious tendencies fit right with her status as a minor goddess with an extreme need to prove herself, seeing that her son was born out of non-consensual mating with prophecy looming on her baby.

Miller instead gives further elaboration on the characters' conclusions and deeper reasons that encapsulate the development of their personalities—an expansion akin to behind-the-scenes glimpses that go beyond the archetype myth. Brises, as one of the supporting characters provided with this treatment, is a highlight in the novel. Miller succeeds in illustrating her tenacity, even in the earliest introduction where Briseis was still dreading her fate as a potential comfort woman. Moreover, her striking friendship with Patroclus and Achilles helps her bloom as a character even more; she has the rare chance to be the only woman considered as the protagonists' dear companion and equal, and in return, allows her to learn about them and regard them as her dearest friends as well.

Perhaps, it is in the ending where we could see the narrative writing echoes the dialectic and rhythmic writing of an epic poem; Patroclus' lamentation of his death and the fate of Achilles' pre-teen years are filled with self-agonize, mourning over his inability to follow Achilles to the afterlife and possibility to be bound forever on earth. But Miller isn't cruel enough to end their story on an utmost tragic path like most Greek stories do, so she settles in a bittersweet one that reminisces the memories of them together and promises a joyful reunion of the two lovers after countless efforts to do so.

With its woeful romantic journey, it is also nostalgic, passionate, yet sincere—thriving in inciting a barrage of emotions as we keep reading the story of Patroclus and Achilles. Respectively, through The Song of Achilles, Miller has created a significantly timeless classic in the current modern times that deserves its spot as one of the best offers in the fiction genre as it goes.

I don't think it's going to be easy to recover from this book. It hurts. In a good way. 
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