Name one hero who was happy.
I used to listen to audiobooks quite a lot, but then I fell into the exciting world of fiction podcasts. That sort of ruined audiobooks for me, in a way. I've come to expect a story for my ears to have a full cast, sound effects, all that jazz; not just one or two people reading a book to me. But a lot of all those numerous reading challenges I keep greedily signing up for want me to read an audiobook, so I decided to pick up one. Something I've already read and loved, to listen to a few chapters an evening as a bedtime story.
I'm not sure what possessed me to choose something so overwhelmingly heartbreaking as The Song of Achilles. I just... liked the narrator's voice from the sample and wanted to listen to him read more of Miller's gorgeous prose. For some reason, I completely overlooked what an emotional mess this book had recudes me to the first time around.
Naturally, it did it again.
This was a long listen, really. I kept pausing for days, because I didn't want to get to those last chapters, to the impossibly painful, inevitable conclusion. Not that the early chapters are considerably less painful. I think it's nearly impossible to read TSoA and not be aware that the story is spiralling toward complete and utter heartbreak, even for some reason you know/remember little of Iliad. Even in the early parts where everything is beautiful and nothing immediately hurts, where Patroclus and Achilles are just two boys on Mount Pelion, everything is full of all those hints and remarks full of dramatic irony, like a tragedy should be.
Patroclus, the way Miller writes him, is perhaps one of my favorite characters ever. It's incredible, how he always strives to be the best version of himself among the cruelty and the darkness of the war. How fiercely he loves Achilles, and how he still defies him, calls him out on his shortcomings, his pride, his hubris. How he continues to see the best in him even when that best gets buried under all of the above. How he doesn't hesitate to harm what Achilles has become in order to preserve the best Achilles can be. The ending he faces is inevitable. He still deserves better.
Achilles himself often infuriates me, particularly in the later chapters, but I can't help but hurt for him, too—and not just because my perception of him is filtered through the lens of Patroclus's wholehearted love for the man. It's because behind all the luster and glory, he lives through his own personaly tragedy: a lot of his choices taken from him from a fairly young age, his destiny written for him, culminating in an inescapable death. Patroclus is the only one among those who are constantly by his side who sees him for the man behind the prophecy. For others—his mother, the gods, the entire Greek army—he is a weapon, born for the battlefield alone. His only prize is the legend he makes out of himself; his only legacy is his glory.
Let the story of him to be something more, Patroclus's ghost tells Thetis. And that's what makes this book so important to me, what makes it line up so well with my personal vision of what love should be: seeing the person you love for who they are, and who they can be, and wanting them to be more than what they're allowed to be. Wanting them to be everything.
I love this book, and I kind of hate this book, and I want to promise myself that I'll never subject myself to this story again. I know I will, someday.