I think I’m too old for this teenage romance stuff. Too old for all this talk of beautiful boys, golden fiery hair ruffling in the wind, and their feet. I can’t read without my eyes rolling to the back of my brain.
But I do love a good retelling, so I’m glad I sludged through the romance and got to the Trojan war. There it gets exciting and tragic. What is it with humans and tragedies anyway, why do we get such a kick out of them? I know how the story ends, but I still hold my breath watching the train wreck of events that get us there. They really do upset me. I find myself scolding the characters, oh if only you hadn’t done that, if only you had acted a bit faster, if only.
(The musical Hadestown gives a nice explanation that sits with me:
‘Cause here’s the thing
To know how it ends
And still begin to sing it again
As if it might turn out this time
As if it might turn out this time. But I digress.)
And of course, I adore Hector and hate Paris. I dislike Achilles, but I also find him very human. Which one of hasn’t wished doom and destruction on our own friends when they’ve humiliated us? Oooh they’ll regret ever… It’s a childlike tantrum and it’s completely realistic. I love it. I like Patroclus after he meets Briseis. Of course, I love Briseis, pining after a gay man, a very tragic character indeed. Girl, move on.
One last remark: After all that talk about Achilles’ feet – his lovely feet rubbed with scented oils, his perfect toes, his soft pink soles, etc. etc. ugh groan– after all that I can’t believe Madeline Miller kills Achilles not with an arrow to the heel, as the legend goes, but by an arrow to his back. Did she think it would be less realistic? I would have rolled with it. I suspended my disbelief for gods and centaurs after all. Why not an arrow to the heel? I think it would have been very poetic.
Thoughts On Books and Everything Else 