I shocked my reading group last week when I announced during our discussion of Pat Barker’s novel, The women of Troy, that I was tiring of feminist re-imaginings of historical women. This is not to say that I didn’t enjoy the novel, and it is definitely not to say that I am not interested in novels addressing feminist issues and concerns. It is simply to say that mining the past for the wrongs of the past, while perfectly valid, is starting to feel a bit repetitive, and consequently, also perhaps a bit reductive.
In the last couple of decades, the Classics seem to have been particularly popular for authors to revisit. I can point, in my own reading, to Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad (my review), and more recently to authors I haven’t read like Madeline Miller and Natalie Haynes. These authors have all re-imagined women’s roles from the Greek classics. A somewhat different, because non-feminist, re-imagining is one that relates closely to Barker’s novel, David Malouf’s Ransom (my review). In it, Malouf explores the visit Priam makes to Achilles to beg for the body of his son Hector. This event occurs before Barker’s novel starts, but it – particularly how the characters interpret it – underpins Barker’s plot.
So, let’s get to Barker’s novel. It starts with the fall of Troy but it mostly occupies the time during which the victorious Greeks, eager to return home with their spoils of war, which include the titular women of Troy, are unable to leave because they need the right weather to sail. However, it’s not coming because the gods are offended. The Trojan King Priam’s body has been brutalised and left unburied – by the now-dead-Achilles’ son Pyrrhus, who is emulating his father’s treatment of Priam’s son Hector.
Barker evokes the scene well, detailing life at the encampment along the bay, which includes the households of Greek heroes and kings – like Agamemnon and Odysseus – and the women’s quarters where the captive Trojan women are being kept. The warriors, who are fine when they are fighting, are restive, while the women are trying to survive this nightmare. Three voices carry the story, the main one being the first-person voice of Briseis, who had been Achilles’ “prize of honour” but is now married to his trusted companion Alcimus. She tells her story from 50 years hence. Her voice is occasionally interrupted by one of two third-person male voices who speak from their present, the aforementioned Pyrrhus, and the out-of-favour seer, Calchas. In fact, it is Pyrrhus who opens the novel.
“nobody would believe a girl capable of doing it” (Briseis)
Barker knows how to tell a compelling tale. She unfolds the plot at a steady pace, building up the tension in the encampment through strong imagery and tight description. I particularly loved her use of birds to both convey tone and further the themes. Chief among these were the ever-present crows who, Briseis tells us partway through the story,
were everywhere now, and they seemed so arrogant, so prosperous … Almost as if they were taking over.
Above all, though, it’s Barker’s characterisation that engaged me, her ability to invest her characters with humanity – including the brutal Pyrrhus who at 16 years old is young, unconfident and struggling to live up to the reputation of his father Achilles. Briseis, the spoil of a previous war and now carrying Achilles’ child, is more privileged than the newly captured Trojan women, but she needs all her wits if she is to keep them as safe as she’d like, particularly the independent Amina who is determined to defy Pyrrhus and give Priam the burial he deserves.
One of the ways Barker creates these relatable characters is to use contemporary and often highly colloquial language, which I admit I initially found off-putting. I don’t usually bother much about anachronism in historical fiction, so it tickled me that our reading group member who tends to be the most critical of anachronism was the main defender on this occasion. She argued that the language of The Iliad, for example, is poetic, rather than realistic, and that, given we don’t know the language of the time, Barker’s earthy approach – with its expressions like “poor cow”, “as you would”, and “fat lot of good” – is valid. Fair enough – and, in fact, I did find myself able to go with the flow, once I’d attuned myself.
There were other moments, too, though, where the language felt a bit clunky, but they were not enough to spoil what was a page-turning read about the politics of war, of enslavement and of genocide, a story in which the victors take the women for their own and aim to kill all surviving Trojan males:
They weren’t just intent on killing individual men; they meant to erase an entire people.
It’s a grim and brutal world. As Briseis tells us near the beginning, “the only thing, the only thing, that mattered in this camp was power – and that meant, ultimately, the power to kill”.
But, there are some things that the victors, for all their swaggering physical power, overlook or can’t control. One is the greater power of the gods, and the other is the women. Barker shows how women, in being so ignored, so underestimated, so under the radar, can in fact exert some agency exactly because of this. It’s not an ideal way to be, but when needs must you do what you have in your arsenal.
You don’t need to have read the first book in the trilogy to appreciate this novel. I hadn’t. And, while the kernel of a sequel can be seen in its ending, The women of Troy has enough closure to make it work as a stand-alone novel. I wouldn’t call it a must read, but for those interested in looking at Greek myths from a different angle, there is much to “enjoy” here.
Pat Barker
The women of Troy (Troy trilogy #2)
Penguin Books, 2021 (Kindle ed.)
309pp.
ISBN: 9780241988343
Whispering Gums 
Brings to mind very sharply the WONDERFUL “The Songs of the Kings” by Barry Unsworth.
I always think of Barker in the context of WWI novels. Should get out more.
Yes MR, that’s where I first met Barker too, and probably where I’d prefer to stay with her.
I am on board with your first paragraph, and I’m wondering who else is in the crew, O Captain!
I thought you would Lisa, as I was framing these thoughts when I was responding to your Solnit post. I’m not set in concrete about this. It’s more about how much I want to read in this vein in the light of the reading I’ve already done?
I hear you.
It’s just a case of noting that there’s a bandwagon forming and deciding when to get off it.
There’s only so much time to read and as we get older we have to be measured in our choices.
Exactly … time is running out!
Puts up her hand!
Haha, thanks kimbofo.
Oh this is wonderful, Sue! I was reading along through your post and knowing, in my way, about being a bit over-done with feminist re-tellings of classic lit. Then I started thinking – hmmm – I wonder … and I checked and yes indeed I read the 1st book of this trilogy, The Silence of the Girls, about 5 years ago. (That’s why I keep a blog!!!)
Bottom line – I loved the book and did both, read the Kindle and listened to the Audible going back and forth and getting totally immersed. So although I wasn’t too hot about reading The Women of Troy prior to 15 minutes ago – I am now and it’s on my Wish List.
Thanks Bekah … I’m really glad you enjoyed the post and now want to read it, notwithstanding our questions about retellings! I’ll be interested in your thoughts. You will know what to expect a bit more than I did, having already read the first one.
I haven’t done much reading at all on these topics so found this book interesting. Our book club read it when it came out. It certainly captured our attention . So brutal but I got a lot out of it and won’t forget it in a hurry.
Oh thanks Pam … it’s great to hear your perspective and thoughts – and to know it was memorable for you. Did you write about it on your blog?
I don’t remember, it’s been awhile and I’m not as good at saving the past.
I’m also growing weary of feminist retellings for the same reason. I really enjoyed Natalie Haynes’ retelling of the story of Troy, and The Penelopiad is pretty much the only Atwood novel I have actually liked, but I think they are starting to seem a bit samey. However, I do like Pat Barker’s work, so I might well pick this up in a few years once the market is less oversaturated with the genre!
Thanks Lou … I think its ok to tire of these books but still enjoy some in the “genre”.
Greek classics/mythology doesn’t interest me in the slightest so I have no interest in reading them in their “original” or feminist retellings. To my mind, the retellings suggest a lack of creativity as if the author couldn’t be bothered coming up with their own story and has just adapted someone else’s. It maybe I am being too harsh. Either way, these stories are just not for me… I have too many other books to be getting on with.
I tend to agree with you kimbofo. I’m not naturally drawn to Greek classics/mythology either, so have read very few of the retelling books. However, while I agree with you to a point re lack of creativity, I don’t think we can be black-and-white about it because some very creative writers – like Atwood and Malouf – have done retellings which suggests to me that they see value in using known characters and stories to explore their themes.
You did better with the clunky language than I did. IN 2018 I tried to read Silence of the Girls and couldn’t get beyond the first couple of pages. I had not long read Circe though, by Madeleine Miller, which I really enjoyed.
Maybe one feminist retelling was enough.
Maybe Brona. I didn’t find the language in this one *that* clunky, besides the contemporary aspect, but there were a few spots that brought me up a bit.
Everyone is so wild about Madeline Miller that I ended up listening to song of Achilles. I realized that the audiobook really sold it for me. The voice narrator carefully crafted the voices of the characters, bringing them to life. I think if I had read the text, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it the same way. Your reading group member makes an interesting point about language and how we don’t know what the people sounded like. In that case, I almost wonder if it would make more sense to invent new phrases, new idioms, instead of using ones that match today’s language.
Haha Melanie, inventing new phrases and idioms is an interesting idea. Could work or fall completely flat depending on the skill of the author and/or the willingness of the reader to go with the flow!
I can imagine that an audiobook could work for this sort of story.
I’ve read books in which authors do invent languages and idioms, such as The Country of Ice Cream Star and Bogeywoman. I love them.
Pat Barker is on my list of MustReadEverything authors, so I do plan to read this trilogy but am not drawn to these ancient stories generally (although I was, very much so, in my teens, which puzzles me now).
Are these ancient retellings really new, I wonder? Weren’t writers like Mary Renault doing this kind of thing decades ago? After that, I’ve got the scholar Mary Beard in my mind, too, but I think she’s only written non-fiction? There’s a Canadian writer Annabel Lyon who’s mined that territory too (and was nominated for various CanLit awards) for that sort of fiction in the aughts. Sometimes it’s hard to spot where the trends begin.
Anyway, Barker’s so skillful, I’d read pretty much anything I think. (And even reread her WWI trilogy: so grim, so beautiful, so poignant.)
Thanks Marcie for your perspective … I’ve only read a couple of hers including Regeneration which I liked a lot. I think you’re right about Mary Renault though I wasn’t interested in these tales so didn’t read her. Were her retelling specifically feminist? I haven’t heard of Annabel Lyon.
I have the impression that they were telling the old story in a new way that was a little controversial at the time, for including elements that had been overlooked previously (i.e. including women in the story, sometimes prioritising the women’s experiences, whereas previous versions might have focused on the men’s stories alone). Could one say they were feminist for that time? But I’ve not read Renault. Another whose name I couldn’t think of this morning was Naomi Mitchison, who’s apparently written much more than this one novel I used to have on my shelves. I’ve not read her either. Hah. So helpful!
Names are helpful for a start.
As for the rest, I guess we’ll have to read them to be sure!
I understand what you mean about the retellings. The same thing is happening with fairy tales. But clearly there is an audience for them, but most of the time I pass them by. This one though I have on my library list because I have read the Euripides Place Trojan Women which was rather unusual for its time, centering on women and giving them voice like it did. So I’m glad you ended up liking it. You review definitely makes me more interested in reading it.
Thanks Stefanie. Yes I nearly mentioned Euripides play, but then didn’t as I hadn’t read it. I feel I should though. I’d love to hear your thoughts on it.
i’m tired of re-imaginings (is there such a word) in fiction full stop. I really don’t need an author to tell me David Copperfield’s story all over again or to look at the world of 1984 from a different angle.
Ha ha Karen, I’m not sure if there is formally such a word, but I think it works to easily explain our meaning! I’ve never been a huge fan of re-imaginings or re-telling, partly because I feel the added pressure to remember (or know) the original in detail, but I have enjoyed some of course. there are always exceptions aren’t there.
The only one I remember reading is Circe and that was because it was a book club choice. It was enjoyable to be fair but it didn’t make me want to read all other other books based on Greek myths
Thanks Karen. It made quite a hit. I’m pretty sure it was on my group’s selection list but it didn’t get up. I can easily imagine my reaction being yours.