The Voyage Home by Pat Barker Review: A Gritty Greek Game of Thrones

The inconclusiveness of Pat Barker’s previous novel, The Women of Troy (2021) – a sequel to 2018’s The Silence of the Girls – hinted that it might evolve into a trilogy. Judging from The Voyage Home, the third instalment of Barker’s retelling of Greek war myths from the perspective of their conquered women, she might be envisioning an even longer series. While the earlier volumes drew from Homer’s Iliad and Virgil’s Aeneid, this latest book taps into the domestic drama depicted in the first part of Aeschylus’s Oresteia. This drama is so rich that Barker’s previous heroine, the Trojan queen Briseis, doesn’t appear at all.

Abruptly sidelining major characters has worked for shows like The Wire, and Barker seems to be aiming for that kind of broad scope in The Voyage Home. The story opens with Greek king Agamemnon preparing to sail home as Troy lies “fucking pulverised.” Yet, his victory parade is set for disruption, thanks to his wife, Clytemnestra, who seeks revenge for the daughter Agamemnon sacrificed to appease the gods.

There’s an ever-present electricity in Barker’s knack for calling a spade a shit-crusted shovel by any means possible

With Briseis left ashore, the narrative unfolds through the eyes of Ritsa, who serves as a maid to Cassandra, another captive taken by Agamemnon. Cassandra, daughter of the slain Trojan king Priam, sees her enslavement as another step towards her grim destiny.

Barker aims to demystify the myth. An example: when Ritsa notices Cassandra crying and asks why, she replies, “Nothing, it’s just I get so sore. You can pretend about everything else, but you can’t pretend about that. Not that he ever notices. Bit of spit, in he goes.” The book’s focus on powerless characters is rich in grim details, but the overarching narrative often drifts towards the tumultuous royals at its core, particularly Agamemnon’s scheming wife, which makes one question the narrative distance from the main events.

Nonetheless, Barker’s unique voice remains strong. Ritsa is described not as a maid but a “catch-fart.” Cassandra experiences Agamemnon’s touch as “fuck-sweat clammy on her skin… His cum’s tightening on her thigh.” There are vivid details like piss-wet bedsheets and menstrual cloths needing rinsing, along with post-coital hair-plucking. Raw dialogue emerges organically: “shift your arse” and “shurrup,” and sentiments like “He worked miracles with my piles. That cream he give me shrank them right down.”

In The Silence of the Girls, Barker plunged into the invasion’s brutality, while The Women of Troy focused on Briseis’s pregnancy from rape. The Voyage Home strikes a middle tone, mixing open-ended scenes with blockbuster dialogue and a touch of Hollywood sadism: “Do you remember what Daddy’s sword does? … Why don’t you call for your daddy now?” The dual pacing makes it hard to equally care for both narratives. After Agamemnon’s hallucinatory demise, the climax of Ritsa’s journey seems like it belongs in another story, centered on her surprising solace with an invader.

Despite this, it seems unlikely that the journey ends here, and it wouldn’t be surprising if Barker takes a fully Greek turn in her next book.

The Voyage Home by Pat Barker is published by Hamish Hamilton (£20).

Source: The Guardian