JAN 23, 2025 | ARTS & ENTERTAINMENT | By Rachel Weissman
*Contains spoilers*
*CW: Mention of sexual violence*
“The Song of Achilles” by Madeline Miller follows Patroclus and Achilles from Homer’s Iliad across nearly two decades of their infamous love affair. Their tale has been skewed from brothers to lovers across Greek mythology, but Miller’s hyper-romanticized rendition drew the attention of millions on BookTok. We follow Patroclus, the son of Menoetius, exiled at age 10 after accidentally murdering a nobleman’s son. It is seemingly a murder of fate because when Patroclus is exiled to Pythia, he meets Achilles, and they’re instinctively drawn together.
At the beginning of the novel, we see the big Greek names: Odysseus negotiating Helen of Sparta’s marital terms with Menelaus, a prequel to the epic tale of her abduction and conflict at the end of the novel.
Patroclus’ otherworldly descriptions of Achilles convolude this novel’s genre as romantic rather than a Greek tragedy, despite the frequent draws to violence and rape. The inconceivable notion of Achilles’ existence was nearly religious in its depth and consistency — Patroclus’ devout admiration was inherently romantic and solidified the genre.
Miller’s minimalistic writing style was a surprise, along with Patroclus narrating as if his death comes first chronologically, but Miller made it work. The simplest similes from Patroclus refuted his youth, as his narration early in the novel was often lifeless and dimmed with disappointment.
Once Achilles and Patroclus are isolated due to training, they emerge out of adolescence and their romance blooms in the depths of Mount Pelion. The simple scenes of Achilles and Patroclus feeding each other figs or sitting in a tree were fresh air amongst the drama, warfare and death. The lack of character development in their young adult years can be forgiven as Miller knows how to pull on your heartstrings with the young boys’ unadorned gestures, a helpful element to center the reader in the last third of the novel, which reads like a war story.
After three years tucked away in the mountain caves with his mentor, Chiron, Achilles’ father calls his son back to announce the crime of the century. Helen of Troy has been abducted. Her captor, Paris, Prince of Troy, must be brought to justice. Achilles, publicly prophesied to be the greatest warrior of his generation, or “Aristos Achaiōn,” is thrust into a 10-year destructive war campaign to retrieve Menelaus’ wife.
However, when Achilles is whisked away to a hidden island by his mother just before the war begins, Patroclus follows to find Achilles married and expecting a child with the princess of Scyros, Deidamia, derailing his God-given path to fame. When they escape, Achilles’ wife and child are forgotten until the end of the novel. They set sail to Troy and spend a decade at war, where Achilles becomes the warrior his mother prophecized.
Miller incorporates multiple significant and unprecedented time jumps in this novel, with only glimpses of their early twenties, as the focus is seemingly placed on their adolescence. With just a few memories of the awkwardness of maturing into adulthood, Achilles’ character matures for the worse in just a few pages. Despite the romance genre, this novel faces the Greek tragedy’s biggest plague: hubris. It is an element bound to make an appearance, yet Miller is a bit on the nose. Achilles’ domineering pride in fighting over war spoils with Agamemnon was an obvious choice, and inconsistent with the love-dumb playful character Miller had developed. With a bit more development in his young adult years, this plot would’ve felt grounded, as it is historically plausible for his character. At age 27, after ten years of bloody combat, Achilles refuses to fight in battle — a major blow to the Greeks, and as the tale goes, Patroclus dons his armor in replacement and dies in battle. The rest of the novel is told from both Achilles’ devastated clips of memory, and Patroclus, but with a tense shift to the present, as he reveals this account was a series of memories told to Achilles’ mother after both of their deaths. When Pyrrhus, Achilles’ son, sails to Troy to take his father’s place in battle, he denies his father’s frantic wish of combining his ashes with Patroclus.’ It is devastating, but after Patroclus recounts his memories of Achilles, Thetis reunites them in the afterlife, ending the novel with a cringy, yet somewhat satisfying, reunion. Miller paints the tragedy of their separation so beautifully that anything proceeding would not live up. Yet, to conclude so neatly was inconsistent with the uneasy tone throughout the adult years. It was rushed and unnecessary. To put it simply, did we need such a happy ending? It ruined the potential for a deeply cathartic tone after Patroclus’ death.
It’s difficult to not compare this plot-driven novel to Miller’s more lyrical novel “Circe.” The fast pace of “The Song of Achilles” can be forgiven with the understanding that these ‘memories’ were supposedly handpicked by Patroclus to recount. Without this aspect, the pacing and Achilles’ unprecedented character arc are difficult to overlook, and allowing such a minor plot point to determine these factors seems unjustifiable. The disintegration of the quick pace in the second half of the book was disappointing, but the latter half did prove Miller’s ability to create an unreliable narrator.
The boyish innocence Miller maintains for both main characters alongside the revelry of war sets this novel apart from most Greek tragedies. The types of scenes Miller does best are Patroclus and Achilles climbing trees and swimming in the Aegean, while other soldiers boast of their violence and victories. The humanization of these characters set Miller’s novel apart from other famous Greek tragedy adaptations in film and print.
As much as BookTok’s recommendation drew my skepticism, this novel is a huge step forward for the Greek tragedy adaptation genre and ultimately deserves the praise it receives.