July 24, 2026
Thanks to Alissa Simon, HMU Tutor, for today’s post.
Last week, I talked about my own shortcomings as a reader of The Iliad. I am just now starting to realize the importance of discussing Achilles’ wrath. I have always struggled to face it because it leads me to the darkest of human truths. His “cataclysmic wrath” (as coined by Emily Wilson) evidences itself in books 20-23 when Achilles kills everything in his path, choking the river with corpses. He lacks reason, justice, insight, and empathy. Wrath consumes everything. In this sense, Emily Wilson nailed it – his wrath is cataclysmic, both for himself and those around him.
After having already killed many, he continues his stampede. Book 21, lines 274-278 read:
“He [Achilles] killed Thersilochus, Asypylus,/ Aenius, Ophelestes, Thrasius,/ and Mydon. Then swift-footed Lord Achilles/ would have killed even more Paeonians,/ but then the swirling river, in a fury,/ spoke to him….”
Not only did Achilles kill people who came after him thus protecting his own life, but he killed anyone in the vicinity. He killed those that ran. He killed those that cowered. He killed those that begged. His wrath knew no boundaries. In fact, his vengeance only intensified after the bloodbath begins. His behavior reaches unnatural heights when the river finally addresses him. The river says:
“Achilles,/ you are more powerful than other men,/ more capable of doing dreadful harm./ … My lovely streams have been clogged up with corpses./ I cannot freely pour my waters down into the shining sea, because the bodies/ choke me, yet you keep killing even more,/ annihilating everyone” (Book 21, lines 280-292).
And it is precisely this point in the narrative which suffocates me. I struggle to read through it. I once had empathy for Achilles. I know that he has no way to stop Agamemnon. I realize that he is forced into a battle by a king he finds unjust. And I grieve with him when he loses Patroklos on the battlefield. I have empathy for that person, but not the one choking rivers with corpses. And because I hate to look at this scene too closely, I never actually have. Which in turn means that I have never come to terms with the full truth of it. Rather, I dismiss Achilles as arrogant or prideful, childish, diseased or disfigured in spirit, etc. Better late than never, I am now trying to fully understand the warrior who must accept such an awful fate.
In Book 21, the river god, disgusted with Achilles’ gruesome display, strikes out at Achilles. And recently it became clear to me that this unnatural scene – river god chasing demigod around the plains – is what it feels like to wrestle and gamble with fate. It’s absurd, grotesque, irrational. It’s uncontrollable, unpredictable, and heavy-handed. It leads to desperation. Book 21, lines 350-360 read:
“so the flooding river/ kept catching up, however fast he [Achilles] ran./ Gods are superior to human beings./ And every time Achilles tried to stand/ and face the river and find out if all/ the deathless gods were forcing him to flee,/ including the inhabitants of heaven,/ a billowing deluge of the Zeus-fed river/ battered against his shoulders from above./ Over and over, he jumped up again/ onto his feet, frustrated in his heart.”
Now, it is Achilles that cannot catch a break. Nature, in the guise of the river, responds to his disastrously unnatural rage with its own sort of justice. This strikes me as very accurate. Nature seeks to balance that which is out of balance. I see this same sort of rage in characters like Captain Ahab, Euripides’ Medea, Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, or in Tayo’s pursuers at the end of Silko’s Ceremony. Because Achilles is part divine, his battle skill accrues a surprising death toll. His wrath ruins an entire city. No one but a god could possibly stop him.
I think what I find so troubling about Achilles is the fact that he embodies the best and the worst. He demonstrates that even the best among us have destructive forces. Moreover, those forces often stem from a place of goodness. Thus far, Achilles has lived up to a strict creed. He has earned the glory and respect of those around him. His love for Patroklos is obvious. Unfortunately, loss of this love blinds him to all other emotions and to the plight of any other human.
Achilles’ wrath is of such force that even the river god struggles to contain him. In this scene, the river god actually blames Apollo for his inability to stop Achilles. Book 21, lines 301-307 read:
“The eddying deep river told Apollo,/ ‘God of the silver bow, offspring of Zeus,/ you failed to implement your father’s plans./ The son of Cronus earnestly advised you/ to stand beside the Trojans and protect them’….”
In other words, wrath becomes a whirlwind from which no one can breathe. Achilles is driven to madness. He litters the river and plain with bodies. He extinguishes entire family lines. The river tries everything to stop Achilles, to no avail. And now we learn, even the god of reason and order cannot contain Achilles. This scene frightens me beyond all the rest because wrath blinds, distorts, and consumes. And we’re all susceptible to its force.
Next week, we’ll conclude with a focus on a discussion of honor. I hope to discern why or how, after all this destruction, Achilles might deserve kleos (the highest level of glory).
Photo credit: Shutterstock/ Alan Carter
Statue of dying Achilles in Achilleion Palace of Corfu
