Anger and Wrath
This new novel from Pat Barker will be advertised as presenting a new angle on the story of the Trojan War – an examination of Homer’s heroes from the point of view of their ‘prizes’, the captive women who became their victims. And, of course, on one level that is precisely what the novel is: its chief character is Briseis, captive princess, sex-slave of Achilles; many of the other characters fall into a similar category, some familiar from the Iliad, such as Chryseis, Hecuba and Andromache, others created from Barker’s own imagination.
It is unfair to suggest, however, that this has not been done before: Euripides’ great play, The Trojan Women, explores very similar themes, while the Iliad itself provides a very sympathetic insight into its female characters and the often brutal treatment they received. Indeed, there has been some recent fiction following the same characters, Emily Hauser’s For the most beautiful for example. Barker’s version is much grittier than Hauser’s, unflinchingly following through how captive women might actually have been treated, rather than softening and romanticising the sufferings of victims in war.
Yet, despite the centrality of the female prisoners, Barker treats the source material, i.e. the Iliad, with huge respect. Almost everything which Briseis experiences is consistent with the words of Homer, for example in the portrayal of ‘gentle’ Patroclus who promised he would persuade Achilles to marry her.
Not only that, but as the story progresses, Achilles himself becomes more central, not just a brutal warrior, but presented as a complex and troubled man, and importantly, again entirely consistent with Homer. The wonderful scene in Iliad Book 24 when Priam enters Achilles’ hut to beg for the body of the dead Hector to be restored for burial, is echoed in Barker’s novel, as far as the phrasing of the language, and even incorporates lines from Michael Longley’s poem Ceasefire which centres on the same scene. But this is no simple pastiche of Homer. Barker builds much originality of plot and theme into her narrative, offering Briseis an opportunity for escape, and a conclusion to her story which is surprising and satisfying.
This is a serious piece of fiction, but it is often earthily humorous. It focuses squarely on the suffering caused by war on the powerless, its inhumanity, and in the portrayal of Achilles, its effects on the mind and emotions of a brutalised man.

Fantastic re-telling of the Trojan War epic from the perspective of the captured women. Pat Barker is an evocative writer, who imbues the historically silent victims with a convincing and compelling voice.

This is the story of the dispute between Agamemnon and Achilles, a key event in the Trojan War, told from the point of view of Briseis, the woman awarded to Achilles as a prize of war. Part mythical and part factual, this is a frighteningly engaging story of the fate of women when their men are overpowered and killed during conflict. Living in what is effectively a rape camp, Briseis tiptoes her way between Achilles and Patroclus, his closest friend and ally, observing, reflecting and ultimately surviving, to leave the battlefield and move on with her life.

Very well written, horrific in the detailed imagining of the circumstances of the war, the camp and the hideous vulnerability of the women, this leads to reflection of similar situations in different parts of the world today.

The Silence of the Girls continues the current trend for Greek myth retold from a female perspective. This time, we follow Briseis as she becomes Achille's slave and witnesses the end of the Trojan War. In this book, we see Achilles in a very different light from usual, with the narrative split between him and Briseis. Overall, I loved the characterisation, and Barker's careful pacing kept me always eager to turn to the next page, to see what would happen next. It prose was easy reading but never dull, and in conclusion, I would definitely recommend it for those who love myth retellings and historical fiction, and I am giving it 4.5 stars.

The Silence of the Girls is a reimagining of the Trojan War told from the perspective of Briseis, the woman forced into slavery and given to Achilles, only to be the apparent cause of his quarrel with Agamemnon. It starts with Briseis taken from her city by the Greeks and follows the story of her, Achilles, Patroclus, and the eventual fall of Troy.

Having Briseis as the central character and narrator allows for the depiction of the women, mostly slaves, as woven into the Trojan War as the men. Female perspective is given, though Achilles and Patroclus do have occasional point of view moments in the narrative as well as Briseis' voice. Perhaps the most notable element of this perspective shift is the sense of listening in: women are not only not involved in the decisions, but often their knowledge is overheard, gossip rather than direct speech. Particularly by the end of the novel, Briseis is telling Achilles' story, but there are parts she does not see, must report as other women saw. This highlights the titular silence, but also is a reminder of the sense of retelling, of the innumerable versions of the Trojan War that have been told.

Much of the novel does not feel hugely different from a lot of other novels and retellings of the Trojan War, and the style feels thoroughly fitting to Greek myth modern retelling, using a lot of description of senses and translating speech into harsh, modern phrases to get across realities of war, armies, and sex. However, there are moments that stand out and make The Silence of the Girls feel more than just another Trojan tale; in particular, Barker's depiction of Achilles' grief at Patroclus' death, which takes on a visceral quality as described by both a third person narrator and by Briseis' narrative voice. Achilles' sense of loss also at his own self for the qualities that only Patroclus knew about him redeemed any of the elements that felt like they were just doing the same thing as other novels for me.

The Silence of the Girls is undoubtably one for fans of classical retellings, particularly those focusing on female characters and showing other sides to war. From the title, I was expecting more female voices within the novel, but actually the predominance of male characters even within this book perhaps shows what lasts of the Troy story even when women are given a voice.

This is one of those books that, when you get to the end, you sit slightly dazed by the intensity of the experience, and need a day or two to adjust to reality. It may be the best book I'll read this year.

I've been a big fan of Pat Barker since first reading her Regeneration trilogy, and wondered whether a step back into the classical world of the Illiad would be to journey into a safer and more heroic world. Not at all. In The Silence of the Girls Barker gives a voice to Briseis, the slave girl that Achilles and Agamemnon quarrel over, and through her, brings Homer's silent women to life. The story that Briseis has to tell feels absolutely true to Homer's Odyssey, and yet completely modern: the war that she describes, and its effects on the participants, is only a breath away from the almost more-civilized killing fields of the First World War, and from the atrocities of more recent conflicts Barker shows the brutality behind the heroics of classical mythology, and yet even the most monstrous of the Greeks retains their humanity.

I found this book completely gripping.

This is the best modern re-telling of the Iliad that I've read - even if it does perhaps extend too far, taking in the aftermath of war as told in Athenian tragedies: the Hekabe, and the Trojan Women especially.

Told in a straightforward narrative, the majority in 1st person from Briseis with intermittent 3rd person chapters from the POV of Achilles, this is both accurate to the tone, register and thought-world of ancient Greek epic and also a fully-formed novel in its own right. In that sense, it reminds me a little of Atwood's [book:The Penelopiad|561371], especially with its attention to female experience - though it certainly lacks the savage playfulness of Atwood's piece.

It's perhaps a little unfair that the premise claims that female voices are muted in the story of the Trojan war: Helen's weaving, which Barker rightly draws attention to, has been claimed by classical scholars as a form of female 'authorship' making her a parallel to Homer himself; and Athenian tragedy makes female voices - both lamenting and raging - central to the culture's experience. The Andromache, Hecuba, The Trojan Women, Iphigenia, Helen and others all make interventions in the Homeric story, telling 'the distaff side' of the tale.

Nevertheless, there's certainly room for a modern 'Iliad' and especially one which side-steps the Mills-and-Boon-esque versions of writers like Madeleine Miller. Here we have a far more robust Achilles and (yes!) a female slave who *isn't* in love with him.

Barker's experience of writing about war stands her in good stead and there are some echoes forward of trench warfare that draw comparisons with her WW1 work. But this book stands on its own feet: a glorious, subtle and wonderfully Homeric version of a tale made fresh again for a modern audience.