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Summary: A rousing and thought-provoking success
Review: A modern retelling of a crucial episode in the Trojan War saga seems an exercise in extreme audacity, even for so accomplished and honored an author as Barry Unsworth. Yet Mr. Unsworth plows this ground with well-honed verbal and cerebral tools. Iphigenia and her story have never been so well-served. Odysseus has never been so well-skewered. The novel begins with the Greek troop ships wind-deprived and stalled in harbor. Primarily through the perspective of an insecure seer, Calchas, we see the cynical machinations that Odysseus, Achilles, and others employ to control both the troops and their own supposed leaders. The parallels to current events are inevitable, but never strained. As the fate of Iphigenia emerges, the author skillfully interweaves convincing portraits of characters both familiar and of his own imaginative creation. Unsworth's infusion of modern language strikes exactly the right tone, providing judicious reminders of the timelessness of the human themes embedded in the age-old story. Simultaneously, he punctures the heroic conceits that always accompany war and are used to justify it. Like sausages and laws, the making of war cannot often withstand scrutiny, and scrutiny (and entertainment) of the best and most creative kind is what this novel provides.
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Summary: Before the Iliad there was Aulis . . .
Review: An intriguing tale out of Greek legend, the kick-off of the Trojan War in which Agammenon, High King of the Achaian host, must overcome inauspicious, contrary winds to launch his fleet of brigands and cutthroats . . . or lose the opportunity for war and loot. Importing a somewhat modern sensiblity into the ancient tale of Iphigeneia at Aulis, Unsworth nevertheless blends the modern and ancient skeins remarkably well. Calchas, the reluctant and overly intellectual seer struggles with himself to defeat the manipulations of an always wily (and somewhat sadistic) Odysseus who would oblige the foolish and egoistic Agamamenon to sacrifice his favourite daughter to the chief god of the Greeks. But Calchas is not up to the challenge and finds himself sinking more and more deeply into the morass of intellectual and moral quicksand that Odysseus has created. The book bogs down when it shifts to Iphigeneia herself, in Mycenae, as we seem to lose the narrative momentum, but it picks up again with the summons from Aulis where the fleet is beached. Although the tale's end is predictable, even as Unsworth works to create suspense right up to the end, and the characters never fully come to life, the story is nicely told and resonates with our modern idea of politics and war and the justifications that often make the two overly comfortable bedfellows. Iphigeneia, herself, is rather wooden and Sysipyla, her slave girl and erstwhile saviour, is not much more vivid. Macris, too, the young soldier who has his eye on Iphigeneia, also fails to ignite as a character. The best, the clearest of the characters is, remarkably, Odysseus himself, despite certain tiresome locutions. He is a complex creature, cruel and smart, though ultimately a man of little fundamental depth. He cleverly plays the awkward king and manipulates Chasimenos, the king's chief advisor, along with Calchas the seer . . . a man who finds his courage too late to change history. The two Ajaxes are the ridiculous buffoons we find in the Iliad itself, just as you'd imagine them in more modern voice. And Achilles, of course, is dynamically narcissistic. The Singer is, well, the Singer, a proxy for Homer and all the Homers that were to come. In the end it is the dynamic of bureaucracy and political expediency, combined with the all too human human penchant for rationalization, that foreclose the options and ensure the denouement that Odysseus has schemed for since the idea of the sacrifice first entered his head. Sysipyla alone sees though him and works to undo the awful sentence. But can she? This book was most satisfying, as much for the modern spin it put on an ancient tale, as for the richness of the Achaian world it evoked, even via a semi-modern voice. But the story itself was rather stilted and the characters not entirely compelling. Still, it is certainly worth reading if you like historical fiction with a contemporary slant on things and especially if you are fascinated by tales of the ancient Greeks. SWM
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Summary: Should be required reading for today's madness
Review: As previous reviewers have noted, Unsworth is particularly reliant on Euripedes' Iphigenia at Aulis as inspiration for his retellling of the events prior to the "Greek" army sailing for Troy. Like Euripedes, Unsworth shares a cynicism toward men in power, and toward the making of history. In this novel, the cynicism and revisionism is deeper than in Euripedes' version, closer to what Euripedes does in Iphigenia at Tauris or in Helen, where he presents the causes for the calamities of the Oresteia and the Trojan War as tricks of the gods: in the first, Iphigenia is spirited away and a goat sacrificed in her stead (Unsworth cannily includes a historically-materialist foundation for this myth at the end; in the latter, Menelaus, washed ashore in Egypt on his return from the war, discovers Helen residing there, safe and chaste -- a cloud in her form went to Troy with Paris -- 10 years of madness, the founding myth of Greece (and Europe?), fought for an illusion. I am reminded of "The Songs of the Kings" and of Euripedes everyday in news from Iraq. Unsworth's depiction of political infighting is first rate; even better is his depiction of the priest Calchas' struggle with his two nemeses, Croton, the patriarchal anti-"Asian" priest of Zeus, and the unnamed Singer, whose "songs of the kings" )that will become the Iliad and Odyssey) are influenced by bribes, threats, and motives known only to himself. Here we see the age-old conflict over the proper way to "tell the truth" about history. Calchas, a surprising choice for a tragic hero, seems the moral center of the story for the most part, even as he is trodden under the heels of history. But his fight with the Singer, the fight of "objective" history against the "lies" of fiction and poetry, remain in the heads of all responsible journalists, historians, novelists, poets and other "singers" to this day. The multiple catastrophes that will follow the sacrifice of Iphigenia and the destruction of Troy come about as a combination of petulance (Menelaus), first class realpolitik in the service of personal promotion (Odysseus), religious zealotry and misogyny (Croton), bureaucratic timeservers, and, finally, the adolescent narcissism of Iphigenia herself. As with Arendt's portrait of Eichmann, petty personal vices add up to political evil. Also important is Unsworth's granting, in post-modern/Brechtian/Benjaminian/whatever fashion, of granting voice to the voiceless of the age of myth. Perhaps his most important creation is the character none of the previous reviewers have seen fit to mention -- Sisipyla, Iphigenia's servant and confidante, a teen-aged outsider who is as good at the mental chess of politics and public relations ("Has there ever been a difference?" is an implicit question of the novel) as Odysseus. It is finally here, the voice completely excluded from the classic tales, that Unsworth allows a glimpse of hope for humanity, even if it's only the cussedness to try to preserve oneself in the midst of societal madness.
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Summary: The price of leadership
Review: Barry Unsworth is clever. He tells the story of the sacrifice of Iphigeneia but his commentary is relevant to all times, especially our own. His insertion of contemporary expressions added wry humor. Agamemnon, however, remained a puzzle, motivated by greed and power, determined to unite the Greeks and destroy the Trojans, he is manipulated into a cul de sac by his chief scribe, Odysseus, and the priests of Zeus. He must sacrifice his beloved daughter to appease Zeus and thus change the winds in favor of the Greek fleet. Odysseus, the scribe, and the priests continue to support this course of action openly to build consensus among hte Greeks and maintain the unity of the Greek troops. The one false note here is that when a powerful leader is forced into making such a sacrifice by his counselors, his resentment later erupts to destroy those who manipulated him into a corner. Odysseus was too clever not to recognize that Agamemnon's resentment would eventually erupt and be aimed at those who restricted his previous course of action. Homosexuality was dealt with in the novel as an ordinary daily occurance, both in the relationship between the priest of Apollo, Calchas and his beautiful acolyte and then in the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus, his cousin and lover. Achilles had the cruelty and arrogance of the beautiful and athletic demi-god, cutting of the head of a thief for a petty crime. Unsworth reveals the desires for power and wealth that motivated the Greeks, using the seduction/kidnapping of Helen by Paris as a pretext. The wronged husband Menelaus is a fool, rapist, bore that surely was disgusting to Helen. In the same way that Agamemnon's revenge was never fully developed, Iphigenia's agreement to her own sacrificial death was not fully developed either. Unsworth states that the father did not have enough sense of duty and the daughter had too much of a sense of duty. Thus he is pressured by Odyssus to assume leadership including making any sacrifice to unite his troops. Iphigenia is also pressured by Odyssus to make her ultimate sacrifice to her father and the nations of Greece as they move toward triumph. I have to give Unsworth credit for writing a page turner, even knowing the end, I was compelled to read faster and faster as the Princess moved toward her doom. In her arrogance, Iphigenia was not a sympathetic victim. But the stupidity and manipulative world of men made her a victim and worthy of some sympathy.
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Summary: The Songs of the Kings
Review: Barry Unsworth shines light on an early event from the annals of the Trojan War--that dark period when the allied Greek fleet was massed at Aulis on the eastern coast of Greece, ready to set out across the Aegean to Troy, but was prevented from sailing by adverse winds. As Unsworth tells it, the assembled Greeks are growing increasingly contentious with the delay, and some remedy is required. The man with a plan, naturally enough, is wily Odysseus--star of Homer's Odyssey--here presented as a Machiavellian manipulator of words and men. Charmingly enough, he is wont to affect being lost for a word, and he compliments whoever supplies him with one with a very British sounding "Brilliant!" Also on hand are those sons of Atreus, Agamemnon--the commander-in-chief of the operation, from whom a sacrifice is allegedly demanded by Zeus if the ships are ever to get underway--and Menelaus, wronged husband of Helen. You will remember that Helen was spirited away from her home by the Trojan prince Paris, the offense which was the direct cause of the Trojan War (her face launching a thousand ships and all that). Unsworth's Menelaus is a comical buffoon who can't wrap his mind around the possibility that Helen may have run off willingly: "Must I remind you that my Helen is currently in a Trojan dungeon, being violated on an hourly basis? And I've told you before, she wasn't seduced, she was kidnapped." As the story goes, Agamemnon sends for his daughter Iphigeneia to come to the fleet at Aulis--I shan't tell you why. Thus we have, in the second part of the book, a glimpse of the princess's life at Mycenae. There one evening she tells her slave Sisipyla the story of her family's proud history of incestuous cannibalism: how her great-grandfather Pelops was mashed into a tantalizing stew by his father Tantalus and served to the gods (he got better), and how her grandfather Atreus in turn butchered his brother's three sons and served them up to their father. Sisipyla, hearing the story and thinking to comfort Iphigeneia, who seems strangely affected by the telling of her family's exploits, says, "It's always the children who suffer, isn't it?" A great line. Unsworth's prose, as you've probably already noticed, is less stilted than one often finds in historical novels, for which I applaud it, though it is admittedly an odd experience to hear his loin-girded characters speak of "collateral damage," or to hear Agamemnon's scribe say of the hero Palamades, "[H]is father was one of that band of heroes who sailed with Jason on the Argo in the quest for the Golden Fleece. That's the sort of thing that is bound to look impressive on a person's CV." Readers who are already familiar with the story of Iphigeneia at Aulis will know more or less how Unsworth's story goes. Or will they? Because there is that alternate ending in which the goddess Artemis steps in and saves the day at the last moment....
Rating:
Summary: Bold Triumph
Review: Barry Unsworth's imagination has carried him successfully in many directions, as disparate as a Renaissance Italian sculptor's workshop, the deck of Lord Nelson's battleship, the hold of an English slave ship, and the rented villas of contemporary Umbria, but his new setting comes as a surprise.Traversing the plot laid out in Euripides' late masterpiece "Iphigeneia in Aulis," he sets his scene on the vast beach where the Greek armies are prevented from setting sail for the conquest of Troy by a mysterious wind, which apparently can be deflected only by the sacrifice of the daughter of Commander-in-Chief King Agamemnon. Unsworth brilliantly does two things simultaneously. On the one hand, he makes us feel as if we are coming to know people long familiar to us better than ever: now at last we see Menelaus, whose wife Helen has run off with the Trojan Paris, as short, bandy-legged, vulgar, and racist; we see Homer as the man who can shape reputations and is therefore unduly powerful, and perhaps willing to trade on that power, and we see him at a time when he is just falling into his legendary blindness. On the other hand, he turns the fable into a satire on present-day political life with strikingly relevant implications for the second Gulf war. Much of the power, and the humor, derives from the fidelity of Unsworth's details to his historical and literary sources. The wily Odysseus, for instance, inciting another character to one of his schemes, will urge, "Strike while the bronze is hot!" The Songs of the Kings is brilliant and delightful; it should put its author in line for a second Booker Prize.
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Summary: No Wine-dark Sea here
Review: Bound by unfavorable winds, the Greek fleet lies at Aulis waiting to sail for Troy. Mad King Agamemnon, wily and treacherous Ulysses, preening Achilles, priapic Menelaus, corruptible Homer - they are all there, ready to plunder and loot Troy (forget about beautiful Helen). The winds are the fault of Agamemnon; he must sacrifice his daughter Iphigeneia. And so, throughout the book, they sit at Aulis, getting restless, producing major intrigues and nasty happenings. Croton, the fundamentalist soothsayer, wins out over Calchas, the diviner. The military are about to mutiny. Everybody gambles with the riches they are certain to obtain at Troy. You could read the book as a supreme satire on modern times, replacing the Greek scoundrels with those now on the scene in Washington, DC. A roman a clef, so to speak.. Taken from that angle it is great joy, devastating and so well written. But read as a modern rendition of the story of Iphigeneias on Aulis , putting a temporary slant on Euripides, it lacks greatness of spirit of the original. If a new tale of the Odyssey is asked for, there is the incredible "Modern Odyssey" by NIkos Kazantzakis.
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Summary: Gangsters and Buffoons
Review: Critically looked at the Trojan War didn't have much more going for it than the cadences of Homer. "The Iliad," gave us heroes splendid on the battlefield but vainglorious when they weren't plunging dagger and spear into each other fighting a ten year war over adultery. In "The Songs of Kings," Barry Unsworth takes that character defect even further by bringing us charlatans, manipulators, gangsters, and buffoons with only the most humble figure displaying any sign of heroism; and he shows us a war fought for an altogether different kind of booty. It wasn't Helen the Greeks were interested in, it was plunder. Mr. Unsworth has done nothing new, but he's done it quite well. He takes the story of the days prior to the launching of the Greek fleet through a minor character's eyes, and reveals the stories behind the story. He even goes so far as to show us how the official story may have been written with bribes and veiled threats directed toward the press of the day - the poet. Mr. Unsworth moves onto a few patches of thin ice as he injects modern vocabulary like, "collateral damage," into the dialogue, and in modernizing his characters, but all in all the effects work, and though they're never less than jarring they add an interesting dimension in the cumulative. Mr. Unsworth has added well to the literature that has grown out of "The Iliad," and though it's a minor work (especially compared to his magnificent "Sacred Hunger,") it is well worth the read.
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Summary: A taut, lyrical retelling of the story of Iphegenia at Aulis
Review: Here is a worthy historical novel. Beautifully crafted, written with compelling force, it recounts the extraordinary incident at Aulis which preceded the Trojan War. Buy it and you will thank me! All of the stock characters appear, though in an interesting twist, the story is largely told from the point of view of Calchas. In the Iliad, you will remember, Nestor, as the aged veteran, is accorded considerable respect. Not here. Here Nestor appears as an aged quack, lovingly tended to by his two sons. He is given to amusing outbursts from time to time. One occurs at an important meeting of the chiefs. Silence descends at one point during which what are described at the "plaintive mutterings" of Nestor can embarrassingly be heard. His sons attempt to silence him. Readers of the Iliad will well remember that Nestor was fond of talking up his past heroics. Here he can be heard reminiscing aloud about a cattle raid into Elis he had made in his distant youth:
'....show these Trojan dogs a thing or two, I'd be over there in two shakes of a duck's tail if I was young again, in those days I could out distance the wind, I would race ahead of it, as I did when we were rustling cattle in Elis, they couldn't stop us...I heard the wind behind me, wailing because it couldn't keep up...' There is a running gag, that is extremely funny in places, that focuses upon the stumbling invention of the Olympic Games by Ajax, of all people. Bored out of his mind at Aulis, Ajax announces to Calchas that he intends to organise a "Day of Games". "Something never heard of before", he proudly announces. The notion had come to him in a dream which is why he brought it to, Calchas, Calchas "being the chap best qualified in the dream department.' One of his lackeys shouts out, 'We could have races!' This interruption annoys Ajax who turns on the man saying, 'Numbskull, there are races already. Everyone knows what a race is. I am talking about something completely new.' As for the dream itself, this is quite funny. In Ajax' dream, he not unsurprisingly appears at the forefront of a competition which sounds a lot like a decathlon - only the events are all events at which he would be particularly good, such a wrestling and the javelin. At the end of the competition, he suddenly hears a great clamour, everyone chanting, "Ajax! Ajax! Ajax has won the most points!" This inspired him, in effect, to invent the Olympic Games: "...and it came to me that some god was telling me to organise a Games Day with different events, not just running - I'm too heavy for running - javelin throwing, for example, and give points to the winner and the one coming in second and so on.'" It will perhaps not have escaped your notice that his conception of the Games is developed along lines that will guarantee his victory. It would seem the Games were no different 3,000 years ago -- rigged Perhaps one of the only unsatisfying aspects of Unsworth's treatment of the story comes with his depiction of Achilles. If you recall Euripides' version, you will know that the story is as much about Achilles as anything else. It is about his education. He was not as one dimensional at Unsworth would have it. We get not a glimmer of that here. Achilles ends the book as he began it. We see no hint of the sort of man he will become by the time of his death at Troy. And this was profoundly disappointing. A good example is a confrontation between Ajax and Achilles over, of all things, a latrine that Ajax had ordered his men to build. In this passage Achilles shrugs in what is described as a "lithe, luxuriant, deeply self-loving" manner. He deliberately provokes Ajax into a rage. Calchas who watched the incident thought, "Achilles was a natural killer. These Mycenaeans were all warlike and brutal, but Achilles was a special case, he enjoyed homicide as a leisure activity. These last words were a deliberate provocation. Nothing ever led anywhere, with Achilles, except back to his own pride and perfection." Now it is true that Achilles was probably all these things. But in Euripides one at least gains the sense of what the man may become. Unsworth's writes in an idiom that is often very modern -often startlingly so, it is quite unusual. Rather in the tradition of Stanley Lombardo's outstanding translation of the Iliad itself. But it works beautifully. Here's an example also drawn from the Latrine episode: 'It's NOT my latrine,' The booming voice of Ajax filled the tent. He was staring at Achilles with furious hostility. 'Good grief,' he said, 'Do you think I use it myself? It's for the men, not the officers.' Unsworth's style is both taut AND lyrical, a rare combination. The ending is a bona fide surprise. I have said little about one of the major characters - Iphigeneia herself. Unsworth's portraits of Iphegenia and her maid are deeply nuanced and extraordinarily life-like. An important lesson that the Greeks taught humanity (now largely forgotten) is this: If is true that our lives are fated, then it is also true that the manner in which we deal with our fate will demonstrate the stuff that we are made. Iphigeneia's decision (and the related actions of her maid) is breath-taking and principled -- awe-inspiring and heart-breaking. Her actions shamed both the men and gods in whose clutches she found herself.
Rating: 
Summary: Horrible book!
Review: I am sorry I ever read this novel. The story itself is fascinating, but his writing style is awful. The modern language does not fit the story--it's disconcerting. Only a few of the characters are fleshed out, and very few of them are likable. I forced myself to finish this book, because I bought it, and I hoped it might improve by the end. But I was sadly disappointed.
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