(10/08/22)
(If you don't know their story from this book or mythology, there will be spoilers)
Do you remember the exact line from a book that broke your heart?
I remember my first one: “...and Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.”
It was the first and last time I threw a book across the room. I also cried every time I looked at it and didn't read it for days after. That heartbreak was so big that for some time no line came close to doing anything similar to me. But then I picked up a new book in our bookshop – The Song of Achilles. It was years ago, when it first came out. I was obsessed with Greek mythology, especially Troy war and all its heroes and, of course, Achilles, the celebrity of ancient times. He was probably one of my first crushes when I was a child and Brad Pitt played him in Troy (looking now at him playing Achilles and Hedlund Patroclus, I can say just one thing – what a wasted opportunity). After, I read the myths, I read the Iliad, I read a lot about him and that period. I was even determined to become an archeologist after I read about the discovery of Troy (that didn't work out, the only thing I dig out now is old shit while overthinking). So yes, when I picked that book up I knew what I was getting into, I knew how they will end. Did that help? Absolutely not.
It only made it worse, because of that damned foreshadowing that was clutching my heart the whole way through. And then it came, burned itself into my memory for years to come:
"Well, why should I kill him (Hector)? He's done nothing to me."
I didn't throw it across the room this time and I didn't even cry. Instead, I closed it for a few seconds, felt my heart sink into the deepest part of the underworld and tried to breathe like I'm still a living being even though I didn't feel like it. Why would she write that line? I asked myself. Why the hell would she do it? I discovered a new kind of tragedy then – one that doesn't come unexpected, but you know about it all along and still dare to hope it won't happen and it still does and it just ruins you all the more, to watch it unfold. If that isn't one of the highest points of masochism, I don't know what is.
It wasn't just this book alone and its story that broke me. By the time I opened it I already spent some years obsessing over Achilles – and Patroclus of course always comes with him (even as a cousin, yes). You can choose whatever version you want for them, they will still come together and that speaks for itself. So I already felt like I knew them, like they were close to me in some way. And then Miller came into it, with her beautifully written story and version of them. She gave personality to those big names, that made me fall in love with them all over again and all the more. With all of them, in some way, while I still managed to not like them sometimes, which was funny, but speaks for how complex they often were – imperfect and loyal Patroclus and his passivity, naive and goodhearted Achilles, whose downfall into stubborn pride and murdering spree hurted all the more, when you first saw him being the most honest one, most caring one, chosen for a fate of a killing machine and then becoming it. Tender and intelligent Briseis and cunning Odysseus with his smart mouth, that often made me curse him. Even Thetis, that cruel unlikable goddess, in some way I admired – if nothing else, I loved her descriptions and fully understood her despise for mortals.
I fell for those versions of them, felt even closer to them, ran through olive groves with them, swam in rivers and learned from Chiron, watched them be in love, cried with them and then, in the end, died with them as well. At least that's what it felt like.
The writing style is beautiful, the characters are alive, the tragedy immeasurable – not only theirs, but tragedy all around, as that's what gods loved the most. And now, reading it years after, when it took the whole world by storm (as it should) I was a bit afraid it wouldn't be the same, but it was. Exactly the same. And by exactly I mean it broke me once again. One of the smart tricks in this book is, that while the death of Achilles is talked about and expected and feared, you sometimes forget it's Patroclus you have to worry about first. And I fell for that trap again even when I knew.
This time also, I noticed women in this story more and it only added more heartbreak. All of them there only as prize, slaves, goods. Raped and conquered. This book doesn't shield you from the sexism of those times in any way. Even the goddess, towering above mortals, terrifying and badass, an entity for fear and worship, even she was given as a prize to mortal man to be “ravished”. Then what about us? If a goddess can't escape that fate, which of us can?
So during my re-read after years, not only the beautiful story and heartbreaking tragedy clutched my heart, but that unfortunate reminder as well – about women in mythology and women in history, about their value and their fates and a sad fact that in present days, we often still fight the same things, sometimes in different forms, sometimes not even that changed from ancient times. That's our tragedy.
This story will give you all of it – beauty and blood, poetry and violence, smiles and heartbreak, wars and heroes and gods, the epicness and the ugliness of it, billion of quotes to underline, some tears to cry and some cracks on your heart to heal and not only names to remember, but their story as well – one that you won't forget.
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