Greece, the land of heroes. Patroclus, the son of King Menoetius, was a clumsy young prince. Patroclus was exiled by his father after accidentally killing his bully boy, and was forced to seek refuge in the Phthia kingdom of King Peleus and his golden son, Achilles. Patroclus and Achilles are diametrically opposed characters. One was mortal, weak, slow, and unremarkable; he was a prince but lived the life of an exiled child, surviving on the kindness of others. Achilles, on the other hand, was a demigod, the son of a mortal and the sea fairy Thetis. Achilles' bloodline carries the nobility, power, and energy of the gods, giving him unparalleled strength and combat skills.
Standing next to an Achilles with blond hair, green eyes, beautiful and shining like a statue - who had won the race when he was only Patroclus and had to personally accompany his father to Sparta to propose marriage. Patroclus is only a shadow of Helen's legendary beauty, overshadowed by Achilles, the most beautiful, noble, and mighty. Yet, after months of being raised and protected by King Peleus, growing up next to the famous prince - the only surviving child of Peleus and Thetis - Patroclus and a boy his age had formed a strong, lasting bond that nothing could break.
That bond, which began as a friendship, evolved into a feeling between two loyal comrades, and then into something else, eliciting feelings in Patroclus that he had never felt before. receive. Feel both lightheaded and numb, as we often do when standing in front of someone we care about. Author Madeline Miller used the most beautiful, poetic, delicate, and moving sentences to describe Patroclus' feelings when he was with Achilles - feelings that cannot be expressed in words, and I'm at a loss for words to fully describe them:
"And that feeling comes when we swim, play, or talk." It took hold of me, rising in my chest, almost like fear. Because it came so quickly, it felt almost like tears. But this feeling is neither of those things: it is light when it is heavy, and it is brilliant when it is gray. I've felt complete in the past when I pursued pleasure in solitude, such as throwing rocks in the water, playing dice, or daydreaming. [...]This sensation is distinct. I caught myself grinning until my cheeks hurt and my scalp was so numb it felt like it was going to fall out of my head. My tongue spins uncontrollably, relieved to be free. All of this and that and that, I tell you. I'm not afraid to speak up. I don't have to be concerned about being too slow or weak. This, that, and the other! He taught me how to carve wood and I taught him how to throw stones. Every fiber of my body is tingling, and the wind is brushing against my skin."
Madeline Miller has perfectly distilled and laid bare the memorable emotions of two young teenagers in a budding love affair. Their love grew with each second they were alone, with each note of the lyre that the multi-talented Achilles strummed while the clumsy Patroclus watched. And the scents of Achilles have become a permanent obsession, imprinted in Patroclus' memory - the constant torture of adolescent love:
"I smell you." The scent of pomegranate seeds and sandalwood in his foot perfume; the smell of sweat is clean and salty; the hyacinth bush we had just passed, and the scent of the flowers lingered on our individual eyes. Behind all of those scents is your own scent, the scent that follows me to bed and wakes me up. I have no words. The scent is pleasant, but not only that. The aroma is strong but not overpowering. There is a faint almond aroma, but it is not accurate. My skin sometimes smells the same after we wrestle.
When Achilles' father sends him to Chiron, a centaur, to be trained, Patroclus follows in secret. They grew up as young men, spending their free time in a pink quartz cave learning the art of fighting and medicine from Chiron. Patroclus, on the other hand, only looked at girls at a time when boys had begun to notice them and were free to imagine the pleasures that a woman's white body could bring them. He saw in his mind's eye the image of Achilles, with his slanted head, brilliant blond hair, sinewy hands, and gleaming flesh, which were the hallmarks of a skilled warrior:
Instead, other images appeared." The curve of a neck slanted to the side of the lyre, hair gleaming in the firelight, veins dancing on hands. I couldn't stop thinking about the scent of the oils he put under his feet and the glistening flesh of his skin as he changed. I'll take my gaze away from him and recall that day on the beach, the coldness in his eyes, and how he ran away from me. And, as is customary, I miss your mother.
Then reality struck: two seventeen-year-old boys standing on the threshold of manhood had to bid farewell to their peaceful days and enter a never-ending war. The Trojan War has come to an end. The news that Helen of Sparta had been robbed of her rightful husband, King Menelaus, by the Trojan prince Paris, sparked a mortal war cruel enough to divide even the supreme gods on Mount Olympus. Patroclus and Achilles, prince of Phthia, were recruited for this war. Achilles was tempted to accept the battle by the promise of a glorious destiny, fame, and money worthy of the name Aristos Achaion - "the greatest Greek." Patroclus, out of love for Achilles and concern for his beloved's fate, also agreed to join him in battle.
The heartbreaking regret of a terrified Patroclus at the prospect of war, the prospect of uncertainty, death, and bloodshed, is cruelly contrasted with the image of a pink cave in that epic. Chiron's quartz, symbolizing the peaceful teenage dream of the farm, has now vanished. The epic also included a prophecy about Achilles, who the Fates said would die young in the Trojan War if Hector, the eldest son of Troy's king, died first. That epic poem also includes the horrifying reality of war, as well as questions about humanity and morality amid a situation in which people go to war to kill people, to see blood dye their hands red, and to take people's lives. other, to rob and appropriate
"Achilles Song" depicts a homosexual love affair with various levels and emotions of love, as well as the anxiety and reflections of a young Patroclus, who smells for the first time. Fight until the end. Patroclus, much more sensitive and profound, has always searched wistfully for a possible answer to what he should do when faced with this war, which would have to be fought one-on-one with people on the other side who were mortals like him, if Achilles was ready to go to war with his power and melancholy fighting skill, leaving his hands wet with the blood of the innocent people of Anatolia. Patroclus then painfully realized there was no answer. Whatever you do, you will be wrong.
Achilles, filled with pride and a desire to claim the glory promised to him, has entered the war with one goal in mind: to leave his name in history. And then, in an instant, he was swept away by the war, transformed into a proud fighting machine of the Greek army, but he also lost his true self, which Patroclus never was. Remember: sincere, innocent, mischievous but without malice. And there are cunning tricks, lies, and power plays between two seasoned and scheming warriors, Agamemnon and Odysseus, that have perplexed and lost Achilles in the world of an old, adept player that he is still too young to face. Perhaps war is like that; It forces people to possess not only superior fighting skills but also the acumen of a talented leader, so as not to be led, lured, or caught up in confrontations. worth owning
However, Achilles, with the pride of an Aristos Achaion, was not wise enough to make the best decisions for himself, Patroclus, and the entire Greek army. Perhaps Achilles' deathbed was not in his heels but in the arrogance and immaturity of a first-time warrior, which clouded Achilles' judgment and precipitated a series of tragedies. In later drama If Achilles had accepted to forgive Agamemnon after he caused trouble and hurt his pride, willing to return to fight for the Greek army, then Patroclus would not have to wear his shining armor. Aristos Achaion disguises himself as Achilles and confronts Hector. Patroclus would not have been killed by Hector if he had not been forced to replace Achilles. If Hector had not killed Patroclus, Achilles would not have resolved to kill Hector to avenge his beloved, fulfilling the prophecy and dying by arrows. Achilles, in a way, brought death to himself and Patroclus indirectly.
And that is the beauty mixed with the pain of a Greek tragedy, a tragedy in which the characters know what is going to happen but still go along with it. I kept reading even though I knew what would happen to the characters at the end of this tragedy. Read to feel Achilles' grief over Patroclus' death, as well as his rage at the sight of Achilles keeping Patroclus' body in his tent for days before agreeing to have Patroclus cremated. How can they say they can't love each other when Achilles still wants to be near the body of a Patroclus who has died, has no heartbeat, and is even decaying? And how can one say Achilles does not love Patroclus when his last wish before going to battle and dying in battle is that his ashes and Patroclus' ashes be mixed and buried together? The author was inspired by what Homer wrote about the final three years of the Trojan War in "The Iliad" to write a simple but profound will like this:
Never separate my bones from yours, Achilles; let them lie together... just as we grew up in your house.
The glory and fame belonged to Achilles, even though he died a miserable death before witnessing the Greek army burn all of Troy; people will forever remember his name, associated with the legendary war. And with a name like that, the living didn't think a mortal killed by Hector deserved to be buried alongside Aristos Achaion - "the greatest Greek." Patroclus' soul wandered around, unable to escape because his body was not buried, and had to beg Thetis, Achilles' mother, for deliverance. The final pages of the book broke my heart more than the deaths of Patroclus and later Achilles in battle. Because those are the pages of the book about Patroclus' soul's memories of Achilles, reminiscing about the most beautiful, brightest, and precious things Achilles has left in his memory; reminiscing about the boy Patroclus once knew, about "this, that, and that," the things that made their love affair; reminiscing of the good old times, of the golden shore of Achilles' arms, where Patroclus belonged.
When the war is fierce, a series of terrible events follow, and decisions are not made, there is a painful contrast between what happened before and the longing for regretful reminiscence in the present. Never true in any circumstance has resulted in irreparable losses. How can time be turned back and stopped, when they were just children having fun together, when the war, the bloodshed, the complexity of people's hearts, power, thirst for fame, and death had not yet found them?... It's always a question of how, how to get back, something that will never happen; it affected me, Patroclus, and even Thetis in an intolerable way. And there's the revelation of a mother who has lost a child who, despite having the blood of a god, has always been a mortal, a mortal that she has tried to overshadow by diluting its humanity, but fate still finds it.
After all, at the nine springs, no war, fate, fame, or death could separate Patroclus and Achilles. After all, this is still a happy-ending novel, right? But why do I still want to cry when I read these lines:
IN THE NIGHT, two shadows reach through the dark, desperate Dusk. When their hands came together, the light flared up like hundreds of golden vases spewing out the sun.