Madeline Miller’s ‘The Song of Achilles’ is difficult to talk about without sounding "overly dramatic". It’s beautifully written: emotionally sharp but pretty devastating. However, what makes it memorable isn’t the tragedy - it’s the intimacy. Miller takes one of the most familiar stories in Greek mythology and strips away some of its grandeur to focus on the relationship at its centre: Achilles and Patroclus.
The book was recommended by a friend who had heard how blown away I was by ‘Circe’. She claimed this was a far better book by Miller and… although I don’t agree with her… I’d still rate it relatively highly.
Date complete | Title | Author | Rating |
|---|---|---|---|
11.01.26 | The Unbearable Lightness of Being | Milan Kundera | 5 |
07.04.26 | The Song of Achilles | Madeline Miller | 3.5 |
People vaguely familiar with Greek mythology know Achilles as the "great warrior" of the Trojan War. He’s powerful, arrogant, nearly invincible, but ultimately doomed. In most retellings he feels larger than life, more symbol than person. But what Miller does so well is… through the eyes of Patroclus, she makes him human again.
The novel begins with Patroclus as a lonely, awkward child, exiled from his home after a tragic accident. He is sent to live in the court of King Peleus, where he meets Achilles, who already seems marked for greatness. Achilles is everything Patroclus is not: beautiful, talented, confident, admired by everyone around him. But instead of building their relationship on dramatic declarations or instant attraction, Miller lets it grow slowly through companionship. Their connection develops naturally over many years of shared training and conversations in quiet moments.
I believe that slow build is one of the novel’s greatest strengths. The relationship feels believable because Miller gives it time to breathe. There’s tenderness between them, but also imbalance: whislt Achilles is destined for glory, Patroclus constantly feels ordinary beside him. Throughout the novel, Patroclus remains painfully aware of how small he seems compared to Achilles’s reputation. Yet, ironically, he becomes the emotional centre of the story.
Patroclus is the novel’s strongest character. He isn’t especially brave in the traditional heroic sense, nor is he interested in power or fame. What defines him instead is compassion. During the Trojan War sections, while kings argue over honour and warriors chase immortality through violence, Patroclus is concerned with people. He tends to wounded soldiers, frightened women, and unnecessary suffering. He often feels out of place in the brutal world around him, and that tension gives the novel much of its emotional weight.
Miller also resists turning Achilles into a perfect romantic hero. He is charming and affectionate, especially in the earlier parts of the novel, but he can also be vain, stubborn, and frustratingly consumed by his own legend. As the story moves toward Troy and the pressure of prophecy closes in, Achilles becomes harder to reach, even for Patroclus. The shift feels believable rather than sudden. Miller understands that people don’t transform overnight - they are shaped slowly by fear, expectation, and (above all else) pride. Beyond this, the protagonists in 'The Song of Achilles' very much define themselves by the roles they believe they must fulfil.
One of the most interesting aspects of the novel is how it handles fate. From the beginning, there’s no real suspense about what will happen. Greek mythology has already spoiled the ending for everyone. Achilles will die young, Troy will fall, and Patroclus cannot escape tragedy either. Yet the novel remains compelling precisely because of that inevitability. The reader watches these characters move steadily toward a future they can already sense but cannot avoid.
That sense of inevitability hangs over even the happiest parts of the story. Some of the most memorable scenes take place before the war, when Achilles and Patroclus live and train with the centaur Chiron. These chapters are quieter and gentler than the rest of the novel, almost dreamlike in places. Miller’s prose works particularly well here. Her writing is elegant, and she has a talent for small details that make scenes feel vivid and grounded.
The Trojan War itself occupies the biggest portion of the novel, though this is far from a traditional war story. The battles matter less than the emotional consequences surrounding them. Miller focuses more on relationships and loyalty. I liked this section the least because I found it very repetitive and tiresome. But perhaps that was the point! The famous conflicts from The Iliad are all present - Agamemnon’s arrogance, Hector’s honour, and Achilles’s rage - but they are filtered through Patroclus’s perspective, which changes the tone pretty significantly.
Patroclus’s narration also reshapes Achilles in an important way. As we know, in Homer’s version of the story, Achilles is defined primarily by anger. Miller doesn’t ignore that side of him, but she gives it context. Her Achilles is still capable of cruelty and selfishness, particularly as the war drags on, but he is also frightened by the expectations surrounding him. He knows his choices are limited. Either he dies young and becomes immortal in legend, or he lives a long, ordinary life and is forgotten. That pressure hangs over everything he does.
At times, the novel almost asks whether glory is worth the cost. Achilles spends much of his life chasing the version of himself the world expects, while Patroclus values something quieter and more human. Their relationship becomes strained by that difference, especially once Achilles begins prioritising reputation over compassion.
The ending is… one of the most beautiful I’ve ever read. It is painful and I cried. I think, if I’m being brutally honest, without the ending being as brilliant as it was, I wouldn’t have rated the text all that highly. Miller handles grief well - makes it feel earned rather than exaggerated, if that makes sense. The final chapters focus less on spectacle and more on memory, love… especially what remains after loss. There’s sadness, certainly, but also a sense of peace that keeps the novel from feeling completely hopeless.
Ultimately, I believe 'The Song of Achilles' succeeds because it understands that the original myth was never only about war or glory. Beneath all the prophecy and violence, the legend of Achilles is essentially a story about love, loyalty, and grief. Miller brings those elements forward without losing the tragedy that has allowed the myth to endure in the first place.
In all, I believe it’s a thoughtful, deeply affecting novel because it feels... sincere.
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