The last time I read Homer’s ‘Iliad’ was in my Year 11 Classics class, but it’s the text that first came to mind when Joe Zizek brought up the topic of how we should discuss past violence. The ‘Iliad’ may be of hotly-debated historical value, but it’s a story with a clear impact on modern media, bringing about countless retellings in all forms. The one I’d like to discuss here is Madeline Miller’s ‘The Song of Achilles’.

The ‘Iliad’ takes place during the Trojan War, and while it primarily focuses on Achilles, the hot-headed jewel in the Greek army’s crown, a multitude of other characters find their place in its words, including a woman named Briseis. In the original text, Briseis is a member of royalty in a city ransacked by the Greeks, Achilles among them. Shortly after, she is taken by him as a ‘prize of honour’, a representation of his skill in battle, and a role that encompasses that of concubine. However, the tragedy of Briseis’ past is never brought up, her opinions on being treated like little more than goods to be bartered never considered. She is, like many women in Ancient Greek texts of the time, dismissed.

Briseis’ dismissal in the original text has led Madeline Miller to take the opportunity to revitalise this character, giving her opinions, and an actual personality this time. However, Briseis’ new voice comes at a cost. She’s changed from a queen to a “simple Anatolian farmgirl”, and her origins receive almost as little discussion as they do in the ‘Iliad’. Instead of being the one who tears her life to pieces, Achilles becomes her saviour. He takes her in, and shields her from the many horrors of the Greek camp. Miller gives Briseis safety, but does so at the cost of minimising her experiences, ignoring Achilles’ original role in her life and the pain his actions brought upon her in a way similar to that of Homer. 

Can Miller’s lack of acknowledgement towards what Briseis has faced as a victim of conflict be justified? Her doing so gives Briseis’ story a rather different tone than that found in the original text, one more focused on providing the character with a brief respite before the events of the book throw her into turmoil. There’s a kind of relief in seeing this woman finally achieve a measure of peace, but I can never get over just how much it reminds me of the ignorance of the original text. There is a clear difference between telling a story where those who have been hurt achieve safety, and pretending they were never hurt in the first place. 

The ‘Iliad’ may be debatably historical, but these sorts of retellings of past events, particularly those of conflict, are commonplace. Viewing these past conflicts from new perspectives can provide valuable insight into the lives of those that experienced them, but how do we justify them when these new perspectives uphold past ignorances?