by Isabelle McConville
A story worth telling is quite often one that has been told before. From new adaptations of films, to remastered music, or retellings of classics, artists are prone to rehashing the same tropes and central messages in new ways. There are stories that have the power to span countless centuries and generations, as is the case with Homer’s The Iliad. This epic Grecian poem has been studied for decades, translated into multiple languages, and its central story has been one of the greatest legends of ancient Greek history. Madeline Miller, a scholar that has specialized in Ancient Greek and Classics studies, wrote her debut novel as a version of this fated tale, The Song of Achilles. Its publication in 2011 was wildly successful and led to a new generation of readers experiencing the story of the demigod Achilles and the war that would take his life. Throughout the novel, Miller enlists the lens of Patroclus, Achilles’ dear companion in The Iliad, to give readers a firsthand account of the Trojan War as well as the complex events and relationships that led up to it. She examines the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus, which has been debated amongst scholars for decades regarding whether or not their relationship was one between lovers. The Song of Achilles works to showcase the deep nuances of forbidden, paternal, and forced love in a time of brutal war; this trifecta of love is put to the test amongst the futility of the Trojan War and the ever-present threat of diminished honor. The Trojan War itself has been thoroughly examined, but Miller allows for readers to understand the complex relationships between the characters there as well.
The heart of this novel lies in the relationship between Patroclus and Achilles; Miller leaves no room for debate on whether or not they were intended to be lovers, as this book is essentially a romance. Throughout history, many scholars often “deny the possibility of an erotic component to Achilles and Patroclus’s bond in the Iliad either because of the lack of explicit sex between them or because their relationship does not conform to the pattern of Classical pederasty” (Warwick 2). Thus, Miller makes her stance in this debate known by writing a romance teeming with explicitly intimate scenes through the eyes of Patroclus. The Song of Achilles follows Patroclus, an exiled prince, as its main character and allows readers to experience him falling in love with Achilles. They meet as boys, while Patroclus is newly exiled, and he quickly becomes Achilles’ closest companion. The forbidden love between this pair grows throughout the novel, as well as their fear of backlash from anyone outside of their world. Patroclus explains, “many boys took each other for lovers. But such things were given up as they grew older, unless it was with slaves or hired boys. Our men liked conquest; they did not trust a man who was conquered himself” (Miller 176). It was more honorable for gay men at this time to assault another man rather than be in love with him.
The bond between Achilles and Patroclus is unbreakable, even in death, as Patroclus’ soul roams the Trojan battlefield until he can rest in the Underworld with Achilles, however, their relationship was nearly another casualty of the war. Strategic decisions had to be made in order for Achilles to ensure his name be remembered in history, which led to selfish decisions that would not have been made if not for the war. Achilles allows Briseis, one of Patroclus’ closest companions, to be taken by another war general due to his own pride; the contention between these two generals is a product of the war itself, and Patroclus doesn’t hide his disgust in thinking, “I do not know this man… My rage toward him is hot as blood. I will never forgive him” (Miller 289). In the midst of the Trojan war, the bond that has already gone through its trials for being forbidden, is again put to the test under the changing politics of war and Achilles’ fear of losing his honor. Even after death, Achilles’ son, Phyrrhus, works to keep them apart by refusing to have Patroclus’ name inscribed on the tomb where his ashes are buried with Achilles. Phyrrhus contests, “he is a blot on my father’s honor, and a blot on mine” (Miller 364). It is only due to the reluctant acceptance of a mother that their forbidden love is able to be sealed in the Underworld.
Miller cleverly opens up the novel and sets the stage with a memorable line that solidifies the importance of parental love in the novel: “My father was a king and the son of kings” (Miller 1). However, the relationship Patroclus had with his father, Menoetius, seemed to be entirely loveless; after accidentally killing the son of nobles in self defense, Patroclus is exiled and never sees his father again. The politics of war come into play here, in that the king had to do something in order to appease the mourning family. Patroclus is not only exiled, but he is forever traumatized and plagued with the knowledge that he took a life at such a young age. Even though it was in self-defense, his father made no attempt to advocate for him. Patroclus is an example of a “war-exposed” child, who, “on average, show elevated rates of anxiety disorders, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), depression, and externalizing problems” (Etanamly, et al. 1). He refuses to become a soldier, even when Chiron, the legendary teacher of famed Greek heroes, offers to train him. This theme of war-torn characters can be seen in the general, Agamemnon, as well. The savage general is a representation of the futility of war itself; he kills ruthlessly, takes victims for himself, and demands a level of servitude from his fellow generals, which Achilles will not grant. His humanity is only glimpsed when he mourns the sacrifice of his daughter, and speaks with Achilles about marrying her, a ruse employed only so that Achilles would be too startled to save her once the sacrifice took place. Patroclus says of Agamemnon, “I watch his eyes as he does – they are cold and almost sad. Later I will remember this” (Miller 202). Agamemnon loved his daughter, but the continuation of the war took precedent. The murder of his daughter haunts him for the rest of the novel, and his PTSD makes him a more ruthless soldier.
Just as Agamemnon sacrificed his love for his daughter, Patroclus’ father follows suit with his son’s exile. This was done purely out of a prevention of war, and functions as a foil for the kind of paternal relationship Achilles has with his mother. Patroclus’ father is entirely loveless while Achilles’ mother, the sea nymph goddess, Thetis, is overbearing with her love. In times of war, it is common for parents to act in ways that may seem unthinkable, and “in an attempt to protect their children, parents can become overprotective and excessively restrictive of their children’s behaviors” (Etanamly, et al. 2). This is the case for both Menoetius and Thetis however, it is presented in opposing ways. While Menoetius exiled his son to avoid conflict – as well as to rid himself of a son he considered a disappointment – Thetis sent her son off to war in all of his godly glory. As their ship was pulling up to meet with the rest of Greece’s army, Patroclus describes Thetis’ manipulation of Achilles’ appearance: “She was pulling his divinity forth, mantling it like cream on every inch of his skin. Helping her son make the most of his dearly bought fame” (Miller 192). Thetis fears for her son, as it is prophesized, he will die during the Trojan war, but she ultimately sets him up for success in the best way she can. Her love for her son is twisted; she denies his humanity and wishes to keep him under the ocean with her but knows he will die without honor this way. The war disrupts this paternal love in that Thetis goes as far as kidnapping her son, forcing him into a marriage, and refusing to recognize his union with Patroclus. As she denies his humanity, she is also denying his homosexuality; this is a tear in their relationship that not even the war could have produced.
Thetis’ denial of Achilles’ homosexuality leads to the third theme of love presented in the novel, which is forced. In order to shield her son from the war, Thetis kidnaps him and dresses him up as a woman to be concealed on a secluded island. There, she promises the king’s daughter, Deidameia, that Achilles will be her husband and forces them to be intimate after they were married. This results in Phyrrhus being conceived; a child born from rape and raised to hate mortals. Achilles explains, “‘She led the girl to my room. She made me. I did not want to. My mother said…she would tell you where I was’” (Miller 134). Thetis’ betrayal of her son spawned from her own homophobia and fear of the war, which caused her to do the unthinkable. This act of having Achilles be the victim emphasizes his deviation from traditional Greek heroes as well as his sexuality which “portrays Achilles and Patroclus’s relationship as a conjugal bond in order to highlight Achilles’ alienation from traditional social structures” (Warwick 2). His forced union is not the only occurrence during these times of war – or during the time period as a whole. It was typical to grow up as a prince or nobleman with house slaves that were captured for breeding and personal use. Miller explains, “these unions were not always rape; sometimes there was mutual satisfaction and even affection. At least that is what the men who spoke of them believed” (Miller 59). Therefore, Achilles is a contrast to these men by being a victim himself, and never taking a slave.
Miller includes a different take on forced love as well, which resides in the complex relationship between Briseis, an Anatolian girl stolen during a Greek raid, and Patroclus. Patroclus tells Achilles to take Briseis as is war prize, saving her from being taken by Agamemnon. Their bond grows and Briseis comes to love Patroclus, even though she knows she cannot have him. It is unclear whether Patroclus loved her or just felt sympathy for her, but he tells her, “‘If I ever wished to take a wife, it would be you’” (Miller 267). He forces himself to imagine a life with her and consider marriage, but ultimately admits, “Perhaps if I had never known Achilles” (Miller 314). Patroclus clearly cares for Briseis, but it is only the traditional social expectation of man and woman that leads him to consider a union with her. This is reminiscent of his own encounter with Deidameia, who initially calls Patroclus to her room to berate him for being the center of Achilles’ attention. In her state of insecurity and loneliness, she implores Patroclus to have sex with her as well, and he explains, “Almost, I fled. But I could not bear to see her face broken open with more sorrow, more disappointment – another boy who could not give her what she wanted” (Miller 148). Patroclus chose to stay with her, and do what she wanted out of sympathy, so it is plausible he would only have considered being with Briseis out of sympathy as well. Patroclus wasn’t loved by his father, and witnessed his mother’s loveless marriage to him, which may be why he feels sympathy for those who suffer from unrequited love. Ultimately, Miller shows readers that forced love isn’t a true kind of love at all.
Love in times of war is a common trope throughout literature because it is the ultimate juxtaposition; to be able to find any kind of intimacy or validation in another person during a time of death and despair, makes for some of the best and most heartbreaking stories. The Song of Achilles presents a trifecta of forbidden, paternal, and forced love during the Trojan war, which affects each kind of love in different ways. Madeline Miller’s pedagogy lies in the analysis of love in its most complex forms, and her debut novel is a prime example of how retelling classics, such as The Iliad, is a successful way of introducing these lessons to new generations. With her analysis of The Iliad, readers were given a new perspective on the relationships presented between each of the characters and garnered more interest in reexamining the classics. Her latest novel, Circe, is a retelling of Homer’s The Odyssey, which may give readers a different analysis of love in ancient times altogether.
Citations
Eltanamly, Hend, et al. “Parenting in Times of War: A Meta-Analysis and Qualitative Synthesis of War Exposure, Parenting, and Child Adjustment.” Trauma, Violence, & Abuse, vol. 22, no. 1, Jan. 2021, pp. 147–160, doi:10.1177/1524838019833001.
Miller, Madeline. The Song of Achilles. HarperCollins, 2011.
Warwick, Celsiana. “We Two Alone: Conjugal Bonds and Homoerotic Subtext in the Iliad.” Helios, vol. 46, no. 2, Sept. 2019, p. 115. EBSCOhost, doi:10.1353/hel.2019.0007