This study is, for the most part, a book-by-book Iliadic discussion, which becomes increasingly persuasive as it marches from Chryses’ rejection to Hector's funeral. The subtitle is consciously reminiscent of Simone Weil's essay L'Iliad ou le poème de la force (1940), although L.'s ‘force’ is as much ποθή and ἵμερος as it is μένος and θυμός. L. draws from Sigmund Freud and other psychoanalyst critics, along with a roster of mostly recent Homerists, in an attempt to analyse (and psychoanalyse) the inner workings of the Iliad's plot. L. finds at nearly every turn that ‘desire’, both of the characters and of Homer's audience, is the engine pulling this train. Much of the argument tracks how the so-called ‘main plot’ (i.e. the wrath of Achilles) interacts with the ‘superplot’, the overarching Trojan legend, with ‘triangles of desire’ as a pattern recurring at every level of the story.
The first chapter concerns the inciting events of the Iliad and their immediate consequences – in particular, Achilles’ conflict with Agamemnon over Briseis, one of many triangles. L.'s paradigm helps her address certain interpretative problems. For example, does Achilles truly desire Briseis? To what extent is he crying for her, rather than for his own wounded honour, when he wanders the beach and breaks down in tears? By comparing this triangle with the Chryses–Agamemnon–Chryseis triangle, L. observes that Achilles’ emotions parallel those of the elderly Apollonian priest, since the language of the two passages is similar. L. uses this correspondence, along with a discussion of Briseis being taken from Achilles ‘against her will’ (ἀέκουσ[α], 1.348), to support her argument that Achilles mourns the loss of his captive girl. As L. explains these scenes, Achilles imposes his own ποθή for Briseis onto his fellow Achaeans in their desire for his return to battle, as well as onto himself in melancholic isolation. In other passages, especially after Patroclus’ death, his libido shifts violently in other directions. Much of L.'s argument proceeds in this fashion, which exposes a possible weakness in its assumptions. There are countless formal and formulaic repetitions in Homer, but does this mean that all the thematic and emotional content carries over from one instance to the next? Are all these resonances meaningful? L. usually believes that they are, and she defends this interpretative approach on pp. 16–17.
Chapters 2–5, covering Iliad 1–8, wade into the ‘superplot’ that interrupts the main plot. L. attributes this narrative sprawl in part to the creativity of certain characters (such as Achilles, Zeus, Hera and Helen), with the postmodern touch that these characters ‘generate’ narrative and compete with the external narrator and with one another for control of the story. Throughout this discussion the search for triangular patterns tangles the analysis into great complexities. For example, in assigning Zeus and Agamemnon to analogous corners of their respective triangles (with Hera and Achilles occupying opposing points), it becomes easy to confuse Zeus's desire with his ‘will’. What Zeus must will is not always what he wants. Is it his desire to annihilate scores of Achaean soldiers in compliance with Thetis’ request? Is he not carrying out the whole ‘plan’ in spite of himself, which is precisely why he is so often μέγ’ ὀχθήσας? Would he not prefer to stop the war altogether? L. helps solve the problem by considering Achilles (not Zeus) as the prime mover of the Διὸς βουλή, at least until he loses control of this stretch of the narrative. L. says that Zeus's desires are ‘complex’ (see p. 103, on his ‘reluctant acquiescence[s]’ to Thetis and Hera, and the ‘paradox of his desire’), but I am not sure that they are. They become complex when filtered through these schemata, which run the risk of oversimplifying matters by overcomplicating them. Something of Zeus's personality is lost in the shuffle.
The fifth chapter is one of the best, partly because it steps away from a focus on desire and its triangulations. Among other insights, L. reads the Embassy episode in Book 9 as an inversion of the appeasement of Chryses and Apollo in Book 1, which included the return of Chryseis to her loving father and the sacrificial celebration on the shore of Chryse. In light of this comparison, L. helps explain why Achilles would be so insulted by his comrades’ attempt to cajole him back to the Achaean side (p. 136). Whereas Chryses received his daughter and reparations all at once, with festivities at the Achaeans’ expense, Achilles receives the dubious substitute of Agamemnon's word relayed by the notorious wordsmith Odysseus. L. also convinces readers that Achilles, at the opening of Book 9, is rather satisfied with the prospect of forgoing his glory and returning home. His moment of lyre-playing leisure, with Patroclus as his audience, has an ‘unexpected serenity [that] presages the futility of the embassy's mission of appeasement’ (p. 137). Likewise, L.'s treatment of ‘Achilles’ mourning and revenge’ (Chapter 7), after Patroclus’ death, rings true with the hero's impulse to self-harm and suicide, as well as with his berserker mentality and the mixture of longing and suppressed guilt that induce it (see, e.g., pp. 184–5, 201).
That Achilles stands somewhat outside the shame culture of his world is part of the appeal of his character. His ‘queer’ detachment from his fellow commanders and their soldiery raises an issue that occupies a significant part of L.'s book and is one of its most interesting contributions. Queerness, as L. uses the term, concerns the breaking of socially expected gender roles and sexual behaviours. Achilles, in retreating to his tent and sending Patroclus to fight in his place, behaves like a Homeric wife (and, at turns, like Patroclus’ husband). In this regard, L. also notes a number of illuminating parallels between Achilles and the spiteful Hera. His mourning for Patroclus, furthermore, results in a hair-tearing meltdown that assumes a woman's funereal role, including ‘leading the lament’ (ἐξῆρχε γόοιο) and holding the head of Patroclus’ corpse (pp. 198–9). In L.'s view, the selfish lovemaking of Paris and Helen, whom L. does not deny an active role in the affair, is also a form of queerness. Perhaps the missing piece here, something not explicitly stated, is that Achilles can get away with these deviations because he is in the unique position of being able to abnegate masculine norms. He is indisputably the greatest warrior and has nothing to prove in the area of manliness, and he therefore has a privilege and negotiating leverage shared by few, if any, of the other mortal characters. Nonetheless, even Achilles is at first, like Agamemnon, careful not to sob in front of the troops (Il. 1.348–50). Patroclus’ killing destroys his composure beyond any measure of self-consciousness: L. could have noted this aspect of Achilles’ character development. L.'s discussion of the Deception of Zeus (Book 14 in Chapter 6) includes some excellent observations, especially on Hera's assuming the role of Aphrodite. In Book 24 (Chapter 8) L. finds a resolution of conflicting desires both for Achilles and Priam and for Homer's audience. The book concludes by saying that Homer leaves us desiring more, including a ‘re-performance’ of the Iliad from Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεά.
Some readers may have trouble with L.'s concept of ‘narrative desire’, viz. the audience's desire to know what will happen and their emotional investment in the outcome (on this topic, L. refers to P. Brooks and R. Barthes). One should hope that any good story is spellbinding in this way, but L. assumes an audience whose sympathies and empathies (and ‘allegiances’) are constantly jerked in one direction or another. L. may underestimate subjective elements of this question – for example, the possibility of a relatively impartial audience – as she tries to gauge the listener's suspense and sympathy from one episode to the next. In some places she may be projecting modern sensibilities onto a nebulous concept of Homer's ‘audience’, both ancient and modern (see, e.g., pp. 67, 87: ’the narrative importance of Helen's queerness explains why Homer largely avoids demonizing her’ – does the Iliad-poet ‘demonize’ anybody?, pp. 105, 107). L.'s references to scholia are valuable in sampling the emotional reactions of ancient readers, as is a brief discussion of Plato's Ion and Republic in the introduction (pp. 20–1, 23); but future studies could do more to situate Homeric ‘narrative desire’ in its historical performance contexts.
