The story follows the two as they are taken in by the centaur Chiron, whose job it is to instruct the boys in all areas of education necessary for future warriors. They become firm friends and, eventually, lovers.

In Patroclus, Achilles finds a companion unlike the adoring boys that vie for his attention. The legends surrounding his birth – the rape of the goddess sea nymph Thetis by Peleus, as organised by the gods – are well known and taken as truth. It is immediately clear that Peleus’ son, Achilles, is a boy of prodigious talent and beauty. Following an incident in which a boy is killed, Patroclus is exiled to the court of King Peleus of Phthia to be brought up an orphan. With Patroclus as the story’s narrator, Miller begins the novel in unchartered territory – in Patroclus’ childhood as the son of King Menoitious. It is out of this tradition that Miller has woven The Song of Achilles, more love story than high-reaching myth. Later interpretations of the myth understood the two to be lovers. He features, albeit minimally, in Homer’s epic Iliad as the “best-beloved” of Achilles’ companions. Patroclus’ own participation in the story of Achilles is well supported in the Greek canon.

Introducing a new element into the legend of Achilles and his participation in the battle of Troy, Miller chose to narrate the story from the perspective of Achilles’ best friend and, in her telling of the myth, lover, Patroclus.

The Song of Achilles was Miller’s debut work (followed up this year with another mythical rewrite, Circe), published in 2011. It is a surprise, therefore, that it took me so long to finally read Madeline Miller’s celebrated retelling of the Achilles myth, The Song of Achilles. The battle between gods and mortals, the infighting between deities, and the half-god heroes that surpass all reality in their bravery and singular focus on legacy, it all intrigues me. Something about myths captured my young imagination and has not let go. To this day, the ancient history sections of any museum hold a magic for me that has yet to be replicated elsewhere. I watched countless Sunday afternoon reruns of old film adaptations on the BBC ( Jason and the Argonauts was a personal favourite). I remember hunting out books at the library in my childhood – anything that would offer a retelling of the most enthralling legends from ancient history. I have always had a fascination with myths. We are all there, goddess and mortal and the boy who was both.” She listens, staring into the grain of the stone. M y fears forgotten in the golden harbor of his arms. The thick warmth of his sleepy breath against my ear. Achilles, outlined against the sky, hanging from a branch over the river. Achilles, grinning as the figs blur in his hands.

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