Saturday, June 28, 2014


As with Yukio Mishima's sequel to Spring Snow, I am bitterly disappointed with Mary Renault's sequel to Fire From Heaven. The Persian Boy is written in first person, of the boy Bagoas. Whom Alexander took a liking to. I despise Bagoas for Hephaistion's sake. It's been a while since I care to detest any character in any book. But for Hephaistion, who's mantra for his beloved Alexander "Anything he needs, he must have." Hephaistion whom had been by Alexander's side since boyhood. Hephaistion, the Patroklus to Alexander's Achilles.

All I do as I read The Persian Boy is skim every page for mentions of Hephaistion. I could care less for Alexander now. Bagoas's jealousy give me mirth and indignation. Can't wait for Hephaistion to die, only to see Alexander lose his wits and then to read of Alexander's own death and be done with it all.

The last of the Alexander trilogy as with Mishima's teratology, I will likely put off. For there is no Hephaistion nor Alexander in it. The last book is of what ensued after Alexander's death. The power struggle. For being taken with Bagoas, I have dismissed Alexander from my graces. Golden one, you who continually shape Hephaistion's heart. How dare you. So why should I care for it then, the last book. Instead, I'll re-attempt The Iliad and then after it, The Odyssey. 

*sigh* This is me glorifying loyalty and Homeric love and being way too invested in quasi-fictional works.

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