read: 22/09/23 - 29/09/23 | spoilers!
I think this is the only book I have ever read that I have absolutely zero criticisms of. You could be particular and argue it is not entirely accurate to the Achilles of The Iliad (eg:

Miller's Achilles not having bed slaves, whilst Homer's did,

and differences alike), yet I understand certain exclusions and never expect a retelling to be a stand-in for the original work, and Miller manages to weave her world with Homer's in such an interesting way. I think she keeps in much of Homer's characterisation unchanged whilst also making it her own, which is an incredible skill.

She keeps in Achilles' overt hubris, violence, grief, and power whilst somehow making it understandable, even tolerable, through her narrative. She also characterises Patroclus in a very human way, adding a dimension to him that is endearing to read.

The love she writes is so uniquely its own. It is undefined whilst speaking for itself. It is specific whilst uncontained. Miller has an enviable talent of building emotion. Her storytelling makes it so that she never has to explicitly say anything at all. To try and articulate the effect her prose had on me is impossible. Her word choices were unobvious, her sentence structures were melodic, her dialogue was breath-taking. The beauty of Miller's poetic prose is that her simplest sentences end up hitting the hardest. An unforgettable line for me will always be:

"His eyes, green as spring leaves, met mine. 'Patroclus. I have given them enough. I will not give them this.'"

There are many moments like that in Miller's prose: A definitive, and simple, line amongst her mosaic of other sentences.
The sad scenes were shattering, the loving scenes were heart-aching. The characterisation was perfect, the retelling was honest but new. Beautifully written yet nowhere near pretentious. It is a book that almost gives me vertigo to think about, and I am so excited to continue with Miller's work in 2024.