The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Achilles bandages the arm of Patroklos -By Sosias

Homeric purists will call forth Apollo to rain a mighty hail of arrows and plague upon Miller when they cast their eyes over the result of her gargantuan ambition and ego. But while it seems like a task achievable only by the tripod-loving Olympians, I hate to say that this is actually rather good.

Miller was fascinated by the relationship between Achilles and Patroklos, and confused by Patroklos’ minor role in the Iliad before his death. So, like Ovid and Virgil and Aeschylus and Euripides, she decided to tell the untold tale – the boyhood of these two friends.

Nothing strikes a false note in Miller’s world. Life at the court of Achilles’ father Peleus achieves the harmony of ordinariness and wonder that is the trademark of the ancients. Gods and centaurs play as much of a role as fathers and sons. She is acutely aware of the intensity of love between Achilles and Patroklos that is implied in the Iliad, and her cementing and grounding of their relationship in their boyhood days adds to the poetic tragedy of Homer’s masterpiece. It is really a remarkable achievement.

But even swift-footed Madeline Miller doesn’t quite pull it all the way through. She trespasses too far into Homeric territory towards the end, re-writing scenes from the Iliad. That, I’m afraid, is an unforgivable and thankless task, and one which all the libations and sacrifices in Troy cannot rectify. Why not explore purely within the confines of a prequel? There’s plenty to say. A 2012 update of Priam’s begging Achilles for Hektor’s body displays hubris on an unprecedented scale.

So long as the thought of it makes not the goddess sing of your anger this is a rollicking, faithful, and surprising flick.

Achilles Preparing to Avenge the Death of Patroclus -Dirck van Baburen