The Persian Boy

Alexander the Great #2

by Mary Renault

I thought, There goes my lord, whom I was born to follow. I have found a king.
And, I said to myself, looking after him as he walked away, I will have him, if I die for it.

Bagoas, abducted as a boy and sold as a eunuch, has been transported to the heart of the Persian court as courtesan to King Darius. But when the Macedon army conquers his homeland, Bagoas finds freedom at the hands of their golden young commander, whose name is already becoming a legend: Alexander.

Their encounter sparks a passionate devotion that shapes the Persian boy's future - and deepens into a relationship that will sustain them both through assassination plots, political intrigue and the threat of Alexander's own restless ambition. This is a spellbinding tale of power, loyalty and loss - a vision of history transfigured by love.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical, LGBT, Queer, Classics, Gay

496 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1972

About the author

Mary Renault was an English writer best known for her historical novels set in Ancient Greece. In addition to vivid fictional portrayals of Theseus, Socrates, Plato and Alexander the Great, she wrote a non-fiction biography of Alexander.

Her historical novels are all set in ancient Greece. They include a pair of novels about the mythological hero Theseus and a trilogy about the career of Alexander the Great. In a sense, The Charioteer (1953), the story of two young gay servicemen in the 1940s who try to model their relationship on the ideals expressed in Plato's Phaedrus and Symposium, is a warm-up for Renault's historical novels. By turning away from the 20th century and focusing on stories about male lovers in the warrior societies of ancient Greece, Renault no longer had to deal with homosexuality and anti-gay prejudice as social "problems". Instead she was free to focus on larger ethical and philosophical concerns, while examining the nature of love and leadership. The Charioteer could not be published in the U.S. until 1959, after the success of The Last of the Wine proved that American readers and critics would accept a serious gay love story.

Reviews

[Kyle · Rating 4 out of 5]

I used to think I despised love stories. I would wonder what was wrong with me; love stories are supposed to move us, I would think. They're supposed to make us feel things other stories cannot. So I thought. But all the "love stories" I saw were the unbelievable kind: The ridiculous caricatures on display in "romantic" comedies, the happily ever afters we were fed in fairy tales. "Where was the pain?", I would ask. Where was the suffering, and the longing. And perhaps above all, do these characters being in love provide us with anything more? Because of the love, are we gleaning any additional information about the people, the world, or even the metaphysical? It was a long time before I realized that the type of love stories I wanted to hear were out there, and when I eventually heard them they were powerful indeed.

At its heart, The Persian Boy is a love story, and it too is indeed a powerful one. This book is Mary Renault's second voyage into the life of Alexander the Great, and takes place historically from when he becomes king of Macedon, to his untimely death. Mary Renault takes an interesting approach to telling this story however, and the entire book is written from the point of view of Bagoas, The "Persian Boy." Bagoas was an actual historical figure; he was a eunuch, and catamite, who was originally possessed by Darius III, emperor of Persia. When Darius was no longer in the picture, Bagoas became attached to Alexander instead, and by all reasonable accounts, it was a close and loving relationship.

Because the book is from one specific angle, it is by its nature limiting, yet at the same time it allows a remarkable amount of depth. Where Fire From Heaven is a more "event" driven book, The Persian Boy is much more focused on the personal aspect of those involved. Bagoas wasn't a warrior, so many of the battles of Alexander's campaign are glossed over. Instead we get the smaller, but equally important insights into the impact those battles had on the people (particularly Alexander). Make no mistake, even though this book is from the point of view of Bagoas, it is about Alexander. If this were some other historical novel, by some other writer, we would get action, troop movements, and gore. And while those can be respectable things in their own right, this book gives us the gift of emotions, psychology, and subtle philosophy.

Bagoas is an extremely tortured individual. Because of his training, he exudes a calm and tranquil exterior, but on the inside he is torn apart by a whirlwind of different emotions as he realizes Alexander is a man "greater" than he; he must be shared with others, and with his own destiny. As beautiful as a dancing flame is, to grasp at it too tightly will burn the hand.

The themes in the book have no problem jumping out at the reader. The difference between true love and simple desire, honor and perfidy, courage and cowardice are all explored at great length; it's very Greek in that respect.

Alexander has often been compared to Achilles, and Mary Renault has no problem running with that comparison in a lot of her passages. His passion for glory, his bravery, and his relationship with Hephaestion (Alexander's childhood friend and Patroklos-like figure). And yes, his self-knowing hubris is inevitably a demon to deal with as well.

While Fire From Heaven was a stirring book, painting a broad picture of Alexander's life and getting the chest muscles moving, The Persian Boy is ultimately a heart-wrenching book that gets the chest muscles imploding. Can there be love without loss and pain? Desire and jealously, while still maintaining integrity? What does it mean to be a great man, and who exactly deserves to be remembered by history?

The Persian Boy is a small piece of a grand epic that we can never fully know, but it is still epic in and of itself. In the tradition of the Greek pursuit of glory and excellence, this book shines brightly in its own success.

[Cæsar Eanraig · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliant!!!

The writer did a perfect job collecting a selection of Alexander's journey! Because Alexander's story is to great and so extensive, she had the clever idea to make the book through Bagoas' perspective, that way it didn't had to show all the events of Alexander!

This is the second book of Alexander's trilogy, however it was so interesting telling Bagoas' early days, how he comes to be and subsequently entering in Alexander's life.
The traumatic scene right in the begging of the book, the young way of thinking, and the grow trough his life, Amazing!!!

A beautiful combination of fiction and the studies about the characters lives.
It is a master piece, very well written, according to the time that it was published, but I believe it still fresh.

I do believe that Madeline used this book as inspiration... ;-)

I also have this book on Audible, Roger May gave a really good performance, spectacular acting, very impressive, congratulations!!!

6🌟

[Diana · Rating 3 out of 5]

After thinking about this book more I had to change the rating.

The lack of my perfect Hephaistion ruined the book for me. He was the most important person in Alexander’s life, for goodness' sake! It doesn’t matter if they were actually lovers or not. He was the only person who loved Alexander as a person. And that’s why Alexander valued his opinion the most. Hephaistion never lied to Alexander, if he thought that the king was wrong, he said it. He was a very brave man, capable of doing amazing things. People envied and hated him because of Alexander’s love and trust for him. Even though the nature of their relationship has never been confirmed, I believe that the fact that they did truly visit the tomb of Patroclus and Achilles makes the matter quite clear. Mary Renault compared them to these two in this novel, which is another reason why I can’t understand why Hephaistion was so heartbreakingly (at least for me) absent in this book.

And Bagoas… I HATED HIM. I hated him so much that even though the book was well written, I just wanted to finish it as quickly as possible. He was an annoying, whiny, useless, false, lying crybaby (I wish I could use Polish swear words to describe him, they’re so strong:P). He was just a pretty boy, nothing more. I didn’t believe in his “love” for Alexander. In my opinion he was just grateful for being treated so well by his master, whom he admired (who wouldn't?) but that would be all. I think I’m going to remove this book from my m/m shelf because I didn’t feel the romance at all. Bagoas’ POV was obviously very limited, so there were very few moments between the king and Hephaistion and they were the only ones that felt romantic to me. To be quite honest, Alexander (with Colin Farrell) was more romantic. Seriously, I was about 11-12 when I watched it and I knew that something was going on between the two. “All I know is I trust only you in this world. I’ve missed you. I need you. It is you I love, Hephaistion. No other.” - this line perfectly shows the truth – Hephaistion was Alexander’s beloved.



Unfortunately, there weren’t many moments in The Persian Boy worth mentioning. And you have no idea how sad it makes me. This was the most disappointing book I have ever read. Not just because of the absence of Hephaistion, but also because I didn't learn anything I hadn't known before:/

But I’m going to read Fire from Heaven (why didn’t I read it first? ugh) and I hope that I’ll like it more than The Persian Boy because if not, I’ll never read anything by Mary Renault again.


(I didn’t say anything good about this book, did I? Oops! I’m just angry and so, so disappointed. Also, why does historical fiction always make me so depressed?;_;)

[William2 · Rating 5 out of 5]

A tale of enormous narrative power about military exploits and love. It's an absolute heartbreaker. The narrator is Persian eunuch and great beauty, Bagoas, who acts as Alexander's valet, adviser and lover. In this novel Alexander is an optimist and a gentleman. He sees his wars as making the world a better place. He is a young man whom we see ever so gradually worn down by duty, grief and injury. Somewhere it is said that he lived multiple lives in the span a normal man would have lived only one. In the end, the intensity with which he lives is impossible, unsustainable, reckless — even for someone held to be part divine. The recurring motif here is Homer's Achilles, half man and half god. I encourage you, prospective reader, not to think of the book as mere historical fiction. It transcends genre; it's literary fiction of considerable merit. It's tonally masterful and utterly gripping. I wish I could say how it's done. Staggering.

[Paul · Rating 5 out of 5]

“One must live as if it would be forever, and as if one might die each moment. Always both at once.”
"Alexander is the richest man in the world and there is only one gift suited for such a man." "What is that, my lord?" "You, boy."
This is the second in Renault’s Alexander trilogy. It is narrated by Bagoas a Persian eunuch from an aristocratic family who becomes Alexander’s lover and companion for the last six years of Alexander’s life. There is the basis of historical fact which Renault builds on and weaves her story around. Bagoas is castrated at the age of ten when his father falls from grace and is taught the arts of love and becomes a favourite of the Persian king Darius. Alexander sort of inherits him. The book covers the significant occurrences of Alexander’s later career, including his foray into India. It also covers Alexander’s relations with the peoples he came into contact with and the interrelationships within the often moving camp. Obviously the interplay with Hephaistion is also important. Historical sources include the Greek historian Plutarch and the Roman historian Curtius.
Bagoas is Persian and in this way Renault is able to make much of the interaction between the cultures: between three cultures, Greek, Macedonian and Persian. There are plenty of examples of culture shock.
The sex scenes are not graphic and generally between men, there are a limited number of female characters in the book. It was published in 1972 and has become a gay classic,
“The room smelled of sex and sandalwood, with a tang of salt from the sea.”
The scenes are sensual rather than explicit and in some ways this is a historical romance. The characters are believable and all have feet of clay.
Renault’s writing makes the whole vivid and her descriptive powers are good:
“The dead lay everywhere, like some strange fruit of the land, darkened with ripeness against the pale withered grass and scrub. A faint sweet stench was starting. It was hot.”
We see all the action from Bagoas’s point of view, so it’s from a distance. This is an absorbing novel. It can be read as a stand-alone, although it does help to have read The Fire from Heaven because the relationship between Alexander and Hephaistion.
“I doubt he’d ever in his life lain down with anyone for whom he had not felt some kind of fondness. He needed love as a palm tree needs water, all his life long: from armies, from cities, from conquered enemies, nothing was enough. It laid him open to false friends, as anyone will tell you. Well, for all that, no man is made a god when he is dead and can do no harm, without love. He needed love and never forgave its betrayal, which he had no understanding of. For he himself, if it was given him with a whole heart, never misused it, nor despised the giver. He took it gratefully, and felt bound by it.”

[Ozymandias · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is a marvel, the first part especially so. I can’t understand how but it manages to combine the most appalling crimes imaginable (young Bagoas is enslaved, castrated, pimped out, and gradually turned into the king’s sex toy) with a feeling of comfort and tradition. You feel Bagoas’ love for Persia even as he passes through the worst bits of it. By the time Darius falls you feel regret for the ruin of this once-promising king and the ending of a mighty empire. Again, this is the man who’s been regularly raping his child sex slave. For which Bagoas feels little or no judgement and even demonstrates loyalty for rescuing from his earlier and more wretched life as, essentially, a boy whore. How the hell do you manage to pull that off and have it work?

The book continues in its excellence once we get to Alexander (about a third of the way in), but here the emotional core is less unnerving. Alexander takes Bagoas as a lover, but only because he has come as a willing freeman and not as a slave doing his duty. After the horror of the first chapters traces his somewhat resigned acceptance of his lack of personhood, the second part is about Bagoas recovering himself. Having been no one for three years he now has to confront all his longings and dreams and try to figure out how to achieve them. Bagoas’ journey is at the emotional heart of the book, yet he never truly does anything to affect the outcome other than being unquestioningly loyal to Alexander. It’s another hard balance to pull off, how to make the drama of Alexander’s push to India interesting despite the lead’s lack of involvement. Needless to say she manages it. While I did find myself a bit tired of his endless Bactrian conflicts by the end (I imagine Alexander felt the same) it never lost my interest. It’s here that I realized how clever the focus on Bagoas’ love story really was, for it provides a sense of progression that the repetitive notes of citadels reduced and tribes rebelling could never manage. One only has to look at the film Alexander to see how easy a trap this is to fall into.

To enter the mind of Bagoas is fascinating. His is the mindset of a genuine slave, though he’s not born to it. Kidnapped at ten when his father remains loyal to the wrong man in the shifting treacheries of the Persian court, you can see his free will slowly vanish as his life becomes less and less endurable, until being chosen for the great king’s bed and the luxury of life in the palace is seen as a great gift. An abrogation of any sense of self is the only way to deal with a life entirely in the hands of others. Since childhood he has never had the luxury of choice, being traded from one master to another and obeying them absolutely. Indeed, his realization upon Darius’ death that he has the ability to chose his future is met with a combination of exhilaration and terror. Yet he remains at heart possessed of those old Persian virtues: to serve with honor and always tell the truth.

I really like Bagoas as a POV character, but I have to feel I’d mistrust him from the outside. Every word he says is calculated. Years of service as a slave and in the royal court have conditioned him to never speak without carefully weighing the cost. Any time he does reveal a confidence it’s like a dagger in its precision. His love for Alexander is also fierce and rather frightening in its intensity. Remember that first crush you had? Where you thought that if they didn’t return your love you would just diieeeeeeee? Bagoas is like that. At one point he even contemplates the murder of his rival, Hephaestion. And while he does get better with time he remains a man with no life outside of Alexander. To some degree he never really recovers the sense of identity that was stolen from him as a child but clings to others instead. I do see in him something of a character type that was likely common in the secretive underground gay community of which Renault was a part. The sort of boy who’d managed to work his way into the bed of a married lover and now finds himself spitting blood at the thought of having to share him with his wife but unable to speak up because he knows he’d be the loser. That she makes this sympathetic is due to her skill, but it would take nothing more than a little push to send it over the edge.

The really thrilling part of this book for me is that it’s basically the only attempt I know of to understand what life was like for a Persian in Persia. I’ve seen a few books set in Persia, but they all seem to choose Greeks as protagonists! (I’m thinking of The Dragon of the Ishtar Gate, Memnon, The Falcon of Sparta) Creation at least has a Persian protagonist, though it spends most of its time in Greece and India, and The Last King of Lydia focuses on Croesus and his eventual submission and service to Cyrus. These aren’t all bad books, but as the sum total of Persian historical fiction they suck. None of them really shows us what life was like in the heart of Persia, an empire I love in all its various incarnations. The closest you can come to experiencing that is in works of Fantasy such as The Stolen Throne, set in Makuran, an analogue for mainly Sassanian (6th/7th century AD) Persia, and the Japanese(!) Heroic Legend of Arslan, set in Pars (they’re not even trying!) which is mostly a life of Cyrus the Great (600-530 BC) mixed with plenty of details from other eras. Honestly, it sucks that you have to go so far afield to find books capturing life in Persia and for managing that alone, even if nothing else, I would have to praise Mary Renault.

I honestly can’t believe that this book has managed the reputation and success it did. I know the ‘70s were all about promiscuous youth culture, but homosexuality was still widely despised, even among hippies. And I have not generally thought Classicists, with all the deep conservatism that name implies, and those who enjoy their works would have been the first to join in the winds of change. Yet this book is a full-on gay romance, with no apologies and no cushioning other than the fact that the actual sex is only described in the most vague of terms. Having read at least one other gay romance set in the Classical era (Child of the Sun) I have to say that we could not be more fortunate to have the work of Mary Renault to hold up as a banner for how these stories ought to be done.

Even if that’s not a concept that interests you (and honestly, I don’t generally care much for historical romances, gay or straight) the book does a wonderful job of exploring the life and nature of Alexander. Renault’s far too in love with him to give us a fair impression of the man, but her romantic figure striding through adversity seeking to unite the world in one brotherhood of man is far more wonderful to read than the truth could ever be. By the end of the book you fall in love with him too and his death, though inevitable, hits hard. I had actually intended to read her sequel Funeral Games immediately after finishing this one, but I found myself too emotionally invested in Alexander’s dreams to find the idea of watching them all burn away in an orgy of destruction and civil war anything but painful. And I love the casual backstabbery of the successor wars!

I cannot recommend this book highly enough. It’s one of the best historical novels I have ever read. And while I don’t believe it captures the real Alexander, the one it does present is so fully realized and compelling that I truly wish it was so.

[Iset · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Persian Boy follows on from Fire From Heaven and takes us to the heart of Alexander’s life story; his travels and conquests of the Persian empire as Macedonian king.

The first thing I noted straight away was that The Persian Boy has a different feel from Fire From Heaven. Fire From Heaven is told in traditional third person but mainly from the perspective of the young Alexander, and the story ends just as Alexander becomes king. Before going into this book I expected The Persian Boy to directly follow on, with Alexander crossing over into Anatolia, and the titular character of Bagoas to be a significant character but the story told once again third person mainly from Alexander’s perspective. In fact The Persian Boy promptly discarded those expectations. Told entirely from Bagoas’ point of view in first person, the early part of the story covers Bagoas’ early life and Alexander doesn’t make an appearance until after the Battle of Gaugamela and Darius’ death, when Bagoas is gifted to Alexander’s court. I’m not sure if I like this or not. With this approach, the reader misses out on some of Alexander’s key and most famous conquests; the Battle of Granikos, the Battle of Issos, the Siege of Tyre, the liberation of Egypt and the visit to the Siwa oracle, the decisive Battle of Gaugamela and Alexander’s first entry into Babylon as the new Great King of the Persian Empire. For me, as someone who thinks Alexander’s life is fascinating, this is somewhat disappointing. On the other hand, I wonder if I can really blame Renault for this. She decided to tell Alexander’s life from someone close to him and someone who at the same time provides the flip Persian perspective, and Bagoas himself is an interesting historical figure. Once she picked that path, she stuck to it, and I can respect that. I should have thought it went without saying, but recently, notably in Philippa Gregory’s The Cousins’ War series, I can’t help but notice historical fiction written in first person being done very awkwardly, with events that occur outside the character’s knowledge being dealt with by jarring switching out to third person omniscient just for the one battle scene in the book, or a stream of convenient but tiresome messengers being used. I’m not a big fan of first person in historical fiction because it’s limiting, but if an author’s going to do it I think they should stick to it, after all what’s the point of using first person if you’re not going to tell one individual’s unique story through their own eyes? Renault never gets bogged down in messengers either, for events Bagoas doesn’t personally experience – instead, the character hears direct from other characters what happened, or summarises, neatly but with enough detail, what he later discovered happened.

Another interesting point about using Bagoas as this story’s narrator, as I’ve mentioned, is the perspective this character brings to events. The character of Bagoas is not just a modern person thrown into a past setting expressing 21st century values, as some characters that populate historical fiction are. He’s not even a random person from ancient times. Renault has carefully and very cleverly written her Bagoas with his authentic, unique values and bias intact. This Bagoas has pride in Persian customs and traditions, and, at least at first, finds the Macedonians uncouth, barbaric, and ignorant. Even towards the end of the book he continues to be pleased by Alexander’s efforts to reconcile Macedonian and Persian administration of the empire, and believes that Alexander’s adopting of Persian customs is him coming into “harmony” with them. I really admire how well thoughtfully and subtly this has been done. Renault has succeeded in imbuing her character with realistic values and opinions for his place and time, and yet at the same time it was always clear to me as the reader where this bias was exerting itself when Bagoas offered an opinion – the reader is not supposed to wholesale believe Bagoas, but sees where his opinions are directed by his biases, and decide for themselves. This is another crucial skill in historical fiction. Novels that end up with caricatured villains and good guys see to push the good guys’ angle on the reader. I prefer the novels that stand back and show each “side” as realistic and human and whilst they don’t put words in the mouths of their characters, they leave the reader free to draw our own conclusions – and the truth is that human history is far too complex and subtle to just be goodies versus baddies. So I, for one, appreciate this realistic yet lucid portrayal that Mary Renault paints in The Persian Boy.

Fire From Heaven was the first in a trilogy. Perfectly judged, written with a deft touch that made it wonderful magic to read. But when I closed the book I knew there was more to come, I knew Fire From Heaven was building up to The Persian Boy. The Persian Boy is the rich heart of Renault’s Alexander trilogy. Although some key events are omitted due to narrative choice, the book still covers Alexander’s campaigns in Baktria, Sogdiana, and India, and some of his toughest ordeals. This is Alexander the man, Alexander the Great King. At just over 400 pages it’s longer than most historical novels these days, but it feels like a true epic twice as long, such is the breadth and scope of Renault’s vision – and indeed such was the grand scope of Alexander’s life. I love a good epic. I feel like they have the room to explore the detail and subtleties of historical people and events, and Renault certainly does so here. She’s a master of show and tell, building up Alexander and the others through their actions and only telling in places where Bagoas mentions being told about an event before the characters met. I can’t quite get over how sophisticated Renault’s characters are. It takes real patience to build up characters onion layer style, but it’s the most realistic method, and after reading so many historical novels where the characters are unchanging and flat, their ‘personality’ conveyed by the narrator repeatedly telling the reader about the same tic or quirk over and over again, this is so wonderful and sublime. What strikes me about authors that can successfully create three-dimensional characters is that everything is so carefully thought out and planned. Like with the characters, the plot too is mapped out in an advance, and every single scene advances that plot and the characters; no superfluous fluff. Authors like George R. R. Martin, and, in the historical fiction genre, Sharon Penman and Pauline Gedge. The late Mary Renault is right up there with the best of them. Her dedication to historical authenticity is commendable too, as her author’s note plainly shows. In The Persian Boy she weaves a seamless vision of the life of Alexander that swept me away for unknown hours until I turned the last page.

Highly recommended.

10 out of 10

P.S. Interestingly, Renault has a pertinent comment in her author's note regarding what has been seen as a very modern debate in historical fiction (the book was published in 1973); dedication to historical accuracy. History often shows that the same debates and complaints recur, it seems this is no different:

As regards the ancient world, the political motives of these [i.e. Roman commentators opposed to imperial rule] unconvincing attempts to show Alexander corrupted by success are clear enough. More puzzling is a present-day outbreak of what one may call black-washing, since it goes far beyond a one-sided interpretation of facts to their actual misinterpretation. A recent popularisation says only of Philotas’ execution that it was ‘on a trumped-up charge’, though his concealment of the assassination plot is agreed on by all the sources. (What would be the position of a modern security guard who, informed there was a bomb on the royal plane, decided not to mention it?) Hephaistion is ‘fundamentally stupid,’ though in not one of his highly responsible independent missions, diplomatic as well as military, was he ever unsuccessful. Alexander is baldly accused of compassing his father’s death, though not only is the evidence, literally, nil; Philip had not even a viable alternative heir to supply a motive. ‘Severe alcoholism’ is said to have hastened Alexander’s end; any general practitioner could explain what a severe alcoholic’s work capacity is, and what his chance of surviving lung perforation, unanaesthetised field surgery, and a desert march. After the gesture of the troops at Alexander’s deathbed, an event unique in history, it is somewhat surprising to be told that few people mourned him. That there are fashions in admiration and denigration is inevitable; they should not however be followed at the expense of truth.

[nastya · Rating 3 out of 5]

LEST ANYONE SHOULD SUPPOSE I am a son of nobody, sold off by some peasant father in a drought year, I may say our line is an old one, though it ends with me.
They say women forget the pain of childbirth. Well, they are in nature’s hand. No hand took mine. I was a body of pain in an earth and sky of darkness. It will take death to make me forget.

This is a story of Alexander’s campaigns in Asia told by his lover Bagoas, a persian boy whose parents were brutally killed before his eyes; a boy who was gelded and enslaved; a boy whose body was sold by his first master; a boy sold as slave-courtesan to Darius; and finally a young men and willing lover of Alexander.

The style and prose cannot be more different from the first book, Fire from heaven. This is a first person narration by an old Bagoas, living in Egypt near the tomb of Alexander. And it’s written beautifully, I doubt Mary Renault can write otherwise.

I praised the dead to him, kneeling, grasping his hand. It was my confession, though he did not know it. I had welcomed my rival’s faults, hated his virtues. Now I drew them out with pain from where my wishes had buried them, and offered them, his trophies, wet with my blood. He was the victor forever, now.

You may say that here was my chance. Anyone used to courts will say so. I would have said it once; I knew better now. Alexander, of whom men tell many legends, lived by his own. Achilles must have Patroklos.

I made some soft answer and crept off. What new turn had I given his madness? I had been thinking in Persian, when I spoke of the immortals; the souls of faithful men, safe through the River into Paradise. But Alexander, he had thought in Greek. He would ask the oracle for Hephaistion to be a god. I tossed on my bed and wept. His resolve had set, he would do it. I thought of the Egyptians, the oldest people, scornful in their long history. They will mock him, I thought; they will mock him. Then I remembered; he is a deity himself already; Ammon acknowledged him. Without Hephaistion, he cannot bear even immortality.

And every scene where Bagoas was a fly on the wall and we observed Macedonian politics, tactics, and battles through his eyes was engaging and interesting.

So what’s my issue with this book? I’m afraid it’s Bagoas.

He is just too obsessed, infatuated, besotted, jealous. He has no interests in life except for serving his lover and master, he is too tender. It was very tiresome to be in his head, it felt suffocating.

My art had no more to do with love than a doctor’s skill. I was good to look at, like the golden vine though less enduring; I knew how to wake appetite grown sluggish with satiety. My love was unspent, my dreams of it were more innocent than a homebred boy’s. I would whisper to some shadow made of moonlight, “Am I beautiful? It is for you alone. Say that you love me, for without you I cannot live.” It was true, at least, that youth cannot live without hope.

I thought, There goes my lord, whom I was born to follow. I have found a King. And, I said to myself, looking after him as he walked away, I will have him, if I die for it.

As I slid into his arm, I thought, We shall see who wins, tall Macedonian. All these years you have made a boy of him. But with me, he shall be a man.

There were times when I could have grasped him in both hands, crying aloud, “Love me best! Say that you love me best! Say that you love me best of all!”

He will acknowledge him before all the world, though he loves me best in his heart, and my heart is scalding in fire. No! For Hephaistion, only one thing will do. I am going to kill him.

I used to wonder at first what faint pleasant scent he used, and would look about for the phial; but there was none, it was the gift of nature.

At last I knew where my rival stood, grafted into his spirit, deeper than any memories of the flesh. There could be only one Patroklos. What was I, to that, but the flower one sticks behind one’s ear and throws away dead at sunset? In silence I wept, and scarcely knew that my eyes were shedding tears, as well as my heart.

As I tossed on my pillow, I said to myself at last, Do I grudge my lord the herb that will heal him, because another gathers it? No, let him be healed. Then I cried my eyes out, and fell asleep.

I had found him Hephaistion’s boy, and with me he had wished for manhood. It had been my pride. So now I had given him to a woman. I sat in the hot torchlight, tasting death, and being pleasant to those around me, as I had been taught when I was twelve years old.

Also this book didn’t work for me as a sequel because characters from the first book were too different. And I understand that we’ve seen all events from Bagoas pov and of course Alexander can do no wrong in his eyes, he is the noblest, his knight in shining armor. But it hardly makes for a good read for me.

I was longing for Bagoas to develop some personality, anything. I think he might be one of the most frustratingly boring protagonists I’ve ever read. It felt like I was perpetually reading about him drawing baths and washing Alexander. ("bath" is mentioned 68 times) And the biggest problem is that I never believed in Alexander’s great love in return.

And as a result it was a chore to go through. Sometimes it felt like this book would never end. And Olympias, Phillip and Hephaestion were deeply missed.

So in conclusion: It’s a great book for the right reader. I’m just not that reader. But if you loved The Song of Achilles you should read it. This is a much better version of that. And it made so much more sense here, because Bagoas was a eunuch courtesan and not a great warrior like Patroculus. Just compare Alexander’s relationship with Bagoas to his relationship with his equal Hephaestion.

The ending was beautiful though.

“Go to the gods, unconquered Alexander. May the River of Ordeal be mild as milk to you, and bathe you in light, not fire. May your dead forgive you; you have given more life to men than you brought death. God made the bull to eat grass, but the lion not; and God alone will judge between them. You were never without love; where you go, may you find it waiting.”

[Terry · Rating 3 out of 5]

I really don’t have a lot to say about this book. It’s the first one by Renault that I’ve been…hmm, not disappointed, but perhaps underwhelmed by. We continue with the story of Alexander the Great from the point at which we left him in Fire from Heaven. Or we sort of do…because this volume is told to us as the first-person memoirs of Bagoas, a Persian noble whose family was killed during internecine fighting for the Persian throne. Bagoas is captured as a young boy by his family’s murderers and is made into a eunuch who, due to his good looks, is ultimately sold as a sex slave.

By some fairly circuitous routes he moves from dire circumstances to become first the lover of the Persian King Darius and, finally, fulfills the same role for Alexander. The first quarter of the book is exclusively concerned with the life of Bagoas and the Persian court during which Alexander is little more than a rumour of menace and looming danger. Afterwards we are immersed in the battles and internal intrigues of Alexander’s mobile army-court-realm as he makes his way eastward on his progress to conquer most of the known world. Of course everything is told from Bagoas’ perspective so many events, primarily battles and the personal and political affairs of Alexander that do not revolve around Bagoas, are told second hand. I think this arm’s-length approach to the central figure is the element of the book I liked least. I didn’t personally find Bagoas to be a particularly compelling character, though he was by no means a bad one, and I really just wanted to get a closer look at Alexander and his life as we did in the first volume.

All that being said this is still a well-executed piece of historical fiction written in Renault’s fine prose. The ability of Alexander to turn his dreams and aspirations into reality is truly awe-inspiring as he attempts, according to Renault at least, to mould a disparate world of warring kingdoms and peoples into a unified empire. Alexander is presented, in many ways, as very forward-thinking in this regard, but I am happy to report that it did not seem, to me at least, to be a case of the writer feeling the need to ‘modernize’ her characters in order to make them palatable to readers as much as an expression of her own beliefs about what the actions and achievements of Alexander pointed to. He is still very much a man of his time, just a truly exceptional one. I wonder if there was perhaps a bit too much hero-worship of Alexander on Renault’s part (though one could argue this was more the result of Bagoas’ obvious love and adoration of him and the natural result of his role as narrator of this story).

All in all a good read, but not my favourite.

[Mel Bossa · Rating 5 out of 5]

Splendid. I savored every page. Bagoas's devotion to his lord and his understanding of the warrior he lay with every night--his deep love for Alexander and respect for this flawed but incredible man, moved and inspired me.

The tale is epic. The journey is unforgettable. The excitement and exotic landscapes are beautifully rendered--the history and romance coming together like Macedonia and Persia.

The last few chapters, from Hephaistion's death and on, are worth the whole sweeping book.

In Hades world, will Patrocles finally allow The Persian Boy to continue to love his
Achilles?

What a tale that could be...

[Christin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Every time I pick this book up to read just a passage I find myself getting sucked in again. This is my desert island book, if I could just bring one with me. Every time I read it I could just turn it over and start from the beginning again. It's epic and then again, it's about a boy's first love. There's the sweep of history, and then there's very personal humor and heartbreak. Seriously, Bagoas will rip your heart out. The last line makes me cry.

I will probably never be able to read Funeral Games, it's too upsetting.

[Denise · Rating 5 out of 5]

I had to sit with this book and digest it for a few days after finishing before I could even start to put together coherent thoughts about it.

The writing style is a lot simpler from the first book, where you chase around Alexander's thoughts in a limited-third-person. This book is a relatively straight forward first-person told by Bagoas, and you spend most of your mental effort on the themes instead of the prose, which is appreciated.

The fundamental theme of the book, to my read, is that of unequal love. Bagoas loves Alexander obsessively, caring for him like a fretting nursemaid, sleeping with him whenever he needs or wants it with little thought to his own pleasure, and in the heartbreaking final scene caring for Alexander in his final inglorious moments and guarding his body in the chaos after his death. Bagoas is Alexander's slave, in the literal sense of course, but he is also completely and utterly mentally enslaved to him.

Alexander, however, loves Bagoas only because Bagoas loves him. He does not seem particularly interested in Bagoas as a person (even though the character Bagoas is a bright and engaging young man, with an inborn knack for politics and picking up new languages). He does make gestures of presents to Bagoas, including a very sad scene where Alexander casually asks Bagoas his birthday and Bagoas weeps, as his previous owner Darius III never even thought to ask, but you get the sense that this is Alexander being polite. Alexander likes having Bagoas around and being taken care of, and he likes sleeping with him, but when he has 'serious' emotional needs he invariably turns to Hephaestion, because he doesn't respect Bagoas as an equal. Whether this is because Bagoas is a eunuch, or perhaps a natural side effect of the accepted man/boy Greek dynamic of the time, I could not decide.

The question the book presented to me was: is this unequal yet not unrequited love (a type of love we do not see often in literature) a valid form of love? If one party in a relationship is slavishly devoted while the other is merely fond, and they both accept this, is it okay?

[Darwin8u · Rating 3 out of 5]

“One must live as if it would be forever, and as if one might die each moment. Always both at once.”
- Mary Renault, The Persian Boy



Mary Renault's second volume of her The Alexander Trilogy is narrated by Bagoas a beautiful Perisan boy from an aristocratic family who at a young age sees his family killed and through a series of events ends up in Darius III's court as a favorite eunuch of Darius. Later, as Darius III falls, like the rest of Asia, into Alexander's hands, Bagoas become's a favorite of Alexander.

Renault uses the relationship between Bagoas and Darius, Bagoas and Alexander, Alexander and Hephaistion, Alexander and the Macedonians, and Alexander and his army to explore love in many aspects. It also shows how the hubris of love can affect people for the better and the worse. Love is a two edged sword indeed.

Another important piece of this book is the homosexual love between Bagoas and Darius, Bagoas and Alexander, and Alexander and Hephaistion. Renault is unflinching in her exploration of various aspects of homosexuality and in many ways this book can be considered gay fiction as much as it is considered historical fiction. I'd probably also need to call it historical fiction* with an asterix because I think Renault isn't seaching to tell the "truth" about Alexander, but rather use the myth of Alexander to paint a story on. Once you recognize that she isn't necessarily limited by history, the book flows a bit easier.

I enjoyed the book, but not as much as Book 1 in the series. There were definitely parts here that dragged a bit and other pieces that seemed to skip along without much effort. It was a book that was "rich" enough (like a hot bath, or incenced room) where I would need to step away occasionally to regain my footing.

[Maria Lago · Rating 5 out of 5]

No creo ni que pretenda remotamente ser fiel a la historia, fiel en el sentido del historiador letrado (una historia, por cierto, imposible de verificar, pese a, o, más bien, por culpa de, el testimonio de Tolomeo; que tu biografía la escriba tu fan número uno canta bastante...). En cambio, Renault se esmera en crear una atmósfera auténtica y unos personajes muy humanos, con lo que logra envolver al lector, al menos en mi caso.
Reconozco sonrojada que yo fui una de esas adolescentes obsesionadas con la cultura grecorromana y me afectó no poco leer estos romances. Le doy las cinco estrellas por pura nostalgia y ñoñería, porque en realidad no sé si el libro es tan bueno. Solo sé que para mí es importante.

[Rachel · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is possible - though somewhat distressing - that my love affair with Mary Renault is beginning to draw to a close. It began about eight years ago, when I first read The King Must Die and The Bull from the Sea surrounding a passionate, pilgrimage-like trip to Greece. I was amazed that Renault possessed the same respect, reverence even for the Greeks and the Greek culture that I did. The care and seriousness with which she endowed her historical novels impressed me - here, I thought, is another person like me! It didn't bother me that much, then, that her books were so universally lacking in female characters - she wrote about Greek, mostly homosexual (though all of them, with the possible exception of Bagoas, are at least slightly bisexual, which touch of realism I also appreciated) men, and those were important stories that needed to be told, even though there was little room for women in them.

However, several years later, having just now finished the last of her historical novels that I will ever read for the first time (two of her earlier, contemporary set efforts I haven't been able to secure yet), I find that I can look at her with clearer, more judgmental eyes. I see flaws, now, in her writing, that I never noticed before - shortcuts she makes in her characterization, the way the persistent marginalization of the women in her stories moves beyond a quirk of plot and into a troubling, almost, Anne Rice-like pattern, the way the structure of her novels is almost always oddly anti-climactic, with the plot petering out in a manner that, while it may be quite realistic, proves distinctly unsatisfying. I don't fall into a sort of contented adoration when reading her books any longer - I don't feel quite so much at home.

But, nonetheless, she remains good, and strangely unique. She writes about Greek men, Greek masculinity with this astonishing clarity and compassion that I don't think anyone else has quite managed on that particular topic. She is still the only author I know who writes men in love with one another and remaining - realistically - warriors, without a hint of stereotype (this turns into a quite ugly denigration of effeminate gay men in The Charioteer, which is enormously problematic, but we'll leave that alone for now). And what I found most interesting in The Persian Boy was the freedom that she found, in the person of this entirely unexpected narrative voice, to explore this really fascinating dialogue about what the classical Greek culture means, what makes it what it is and how much of that is actually worthwhile.

The Persian Boy is a strange book. It is the story of Bagoas, a eunuch in the court of King Darius III of Persia, who became the eromenos of Alexander the Great after Alexander's conquest of Persia. It's a brilliant example of an author taking a minor figure in history and opening them up, making them into a very wonderful and unique window into a large and important time while still giving them realistic prominence as an individual. I appreciated it as a book that gave voice to a voiceless figure in history, for eunuchs and concubines get mentioned on the sidelines of both of histories and novels - for a character to rise to the rank of protagonist, normally they must daringly and implausibly escape both of those situations. Bagoas' position also gave him a unique and interesting perspective on the aforementioned Greek/Persian dialogue that runs throughout the book. While he loves Alexander unerringly, and loves the Greek qualities in him because they are part of him, he finds Greek ideals and ideas, generally speaking, ludicrous and laughable (but, of course, he loves Homer, because I don't think Mary Renault could bear to write a point of view character who didn't like Homer). His paeans to the dignity and power of hierarchical Persian court rituals, especially the ritual of vassals' prostration before their king, are startling and powerful, and almost convincing. You side with him for a long time, sharing his frustration as Alexander's Macedonian comrades proudly refuse to bow before him as though for an oriental monarch - Bagoas does not only consider them old-fashioned, as Alexander himself does, but insolent, uncouth, and disloyal, as well as entirely irrational.

And then, midway through the book, the limits of Bagoas' vision came into focus a little more clearly. Alexander is committing hubris, and most dreadfully - claiming that his deeds outshine those of Herakles and Dionysus is a blasphemy that would shock me in the most arrogant of Roman emperors. Alexander may, as Renault and Bagoas claim, want nothing more than the love and devotion of his subjects - but the devotion he wants is that due to a deity, not to an equal and citizen. Moreover, Bagoas was trained in the rites of respect and hierarchy of which he speaks so highly at the same time as his training in concubinage - at the age of twelve. I was impressed, at the beginning of the book, by how seriously Renault took Bagoas' trauma (in this she does not resemble Anne Rice and The Vampire Armand, which has some suspiciously similar plot points), but by the time Bagoas meets Alexander it has seemingly faded to the background, to be replaced with a cool professionalism and a pride in his 'work' as a concubine and courtesan. I distrust this, and thus anything Bagoas says about sexuality or power dynamics following his formalized training in the court of Darius. The moral tapestry Renault is weaving is a little more complex than that - are we really sympathizing with these tyrants, who habitually mutilate children for use has sex slaves, over the Greeks, with their wonderful 'undignified' nudity and their belief in democracy? Perhaps Alexander should have been murdered after making his his comrades prostrate themselves before him.

I may be reading too much into it. It is clear from the afterword of the book that Renault loves Alexander almost as much as Bagoas does - she may have been willing to excuse him both the ways in which he was Greek and the ways in which he was Persian. But I, at least, was stimulated by the ethical dialogue, by having my sympathies jolted so.

Other problems I had with the book - because the central character is a trauma survivor whose sense of his masculinity has been seriously (and literally) damaged, the exclusion of women felt even more arbitrary than it normally does. We hear Bagoas speak with anger and nuance about his own violations, as though they are serious crimes worthy of our attention as readers, but the screams of captive women being raped are referred to, more or less casually, throughout the book. I wanted to hear their stories as well, not just Bagoas'. Also, Bagoas monogamy was a mild irritation the whole time - his jealousy of Hephaiston just felt utterly stupid. I wanted them to have good, sympathetic conversations with one another.

[Lea · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I started this book, I was unaware that it was part 2 in a trilogy about the life of Alexander the Great. I just saw it on some "best LGBT literature" list and bought it.

This 1972 book spans the life of Alexander from the age of 26 until his death, and is written from the POV of Bagoas, a eunuch and courtier that really existed. According to wikipedia "Bagoas won a dancing contest after the Macedonian crossing of the Gedrosian Desert. The Macedonian troops, with whom Bagoas was very popular, demanded that king Alexander should kiss Bagoas, and he did so."

Well, in this book they do more than kiss. Bagoas falls head over heels with for Alexander and Alexander reciprocates, even though the true love of his life is clearly his best friend Hephaestion. Strangely, this dramatic dynamic is only scarcely touched upon. Bagoas is jealous, but mostly Hephaestion is talked about in passing. Even his death and Alexander going crazy from it (also canonically true, apparently) is dealt with pretty quickly. Which I thought was a missed opportunity. I didn't really like Bagoas much and I'm also not sure what Alexander saw in him, beside a pretty and exotic boy. But I did like seeing Alexander through Bagoas' eyes. The middle part of the book was a bit slow. It was mostly about war and "cultural clashes" between Macedonians and Persians, and while I learnt some new things, I almost more interested in the characters. If I wanted to complain about something, it would be that. I wanted more personal depth even.

“Alexander, of whom men tell many legends, lived by his own. Achilles must have Patroklos. He might love his Briseis; but Patroklos was the friend till death. At their tombs in Troy, Alexander and Hephaistion had sacrificed together. Wound Patroklos, and Achilles will have your blood.”

The book made me think of the more modern "The song of Achilles", not just because Achilles and Patroclus' relationship is referenced a lot in this book (Alexander and Hephaestion both compared themselves to them, which... yeah, no wonder people thought they were more than just best friends), but because of the similar Old Gay Greece Literature theme. Well I didn't really like The Song of Achilles, I thought the writing was very YA. This here, however, is literature. It's dense and it took me more hours than usual to get through the 400+ pages, but it was really worth it. I definitely want to read the first and the third part of the trilogy now. No wonder this book is still revered. It still feels fresh and relevant. Maybe the timeless Old Greece topic helps, but mostly the writing is just really good.


“I doubt he’d ever in his life lain down with anyone for whom he had not felt some kind of fondness. He needed love as a palm tree needs water, all his life long: from armies, from cities, from conquered enemies, nothing was enough. It laid him open to false friends, as anyone will tell you. Well, for all that, no man is made a god when he is dead and can do no harm, without love. He needed love and never forgave its betrayal, which he had no understanding of. For he himself, if it was given him with a whole heart, never misused it, nor despised the giver. He took it gratefully, and felt bound by it.

[Labijose · Rating 5 out of 5]

Una gran novela histórica!

[Aldi · Rating 5 out of 5]

Basically flawless. They don't write them like this anymore.
Normally when I really love a book, I tear through ravenously, but this one made me linger. I'd often find myself meandering, revisiting an earlier scene in a new light, savouring a paragraph I'd just read, occasionally going all the way back to the beginning or browsing forward so I'd know when to steel myself for heartache (yeah, that one didn't work). It's well worth lingering over. Renault's style is at its best here, subtle, lyrical, hauntingly lovely. (It makes me sad because there's so much stupid prescriptive writing advice being handed out to young writers these days telling them to avoid exposition altogether, when there are books like this that show how perfectly an exposition-heavy style can work when well done.) I loved Bagoas's voice, and the beautiful details of the character insights. I'd braced myself for Hephaistion getting side-lined, but he wasn't as much as I'd expected; if anything, there was so much between the lines, and in Bagoas's grudging concessions about Hephaistion's character as time went by, that made me ache for both of them, and wish they could have been friends. And the last 100 or so pages just kept breaking me into ever more shattered pieces, in the best way. Definitely one for the "all-time favourites" pile.

[Ben Kane · Rating 5 out of 5]

I came late to the party, but that doesn't mean I am any less enthusiastic than those who advised me Renault's trilogy about Alexander was historical fiction of the finest quality. I mistakenly read book three after book one, leaving this one to last. In retrospection, I'm glad. It's the best of the trilogy by some margin, and less depressing than the final volume.

The character of Bagoas is one of the deftest I have ever encountered between the pages of a novel. Sharp-minded, blessed with good looks and a burning desire for survival, the Persian boy always finds a way to rise above the dreadful situations he finds himself in. His love affair with Alexander is one the most beautiful descriptions of a relationship I've ever read - and that's quite unexpected, given that it's between two men.
Masterful, masterful stuff. Everything in this book is perfect - one cannot fail but to be carried to 4th century Asia, and thrown headlong into the midst of Alexander's army. This is a novel to read and re-read, just to enjoy the sublime prose.

[Kylie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I feel drained. Alexander, my beautiful boy, I love you. His characterization was so lovely, in this book and in the first. My only wish is that Hephaistion and Bagoas had loved him together, not apart. Also, I cried so much at the end. I know Alexander and Hephaistion were Achilles and Patroclus, but did Renault really have to do me like that with the grieving scenes... The sobbing, the descent into madness, the sawing off of the hair, the funeral pyre... It hurt so much.

***

"Without Hephaistion, he cannot bear even immortality." (Ouch.)


"[Alexander] gave me a look, and I thought, The world is breaking."


"Perdikkas stepped over to the bed. 'Alexander, when you are received among the gods, at what times shall we offer you worship?'
...Alexander came back to us, as if out of deep water. The smile still hung about him. He whispered, 'When you are happy.' Then he closed his eyes, and returned to where he had been."

[LaLópezIborra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Reconozco el enorme mérito de la autora como erudita y valoro todo el trabajo de investigación realizado para escribir esta monumental trilogía sobre Alejandro Magno, pero he de decir que me ha costado acabar la lectura y que he descartado por el momento leer los otros dos libros del ciclo.

Bagoas es el muchacho persa, un joven eunuco documentado por diferentes historiadores griegos y romanos, que fue regalado a Alejandro y que le acompañó, sirvió y amó hasta su muerte. La historia nos llega a través de su voz: vemos cómo su padre es asesinado por rivales supuestamente amigos y cómo él vive una infancia terrible en manos de un amo que lo utiliza como moneda de cambio con sus clientes. Servirá a Darío y tras la muerte de este, llegará a manos de Alejandro. Bagoas relatará todas las campañas que vivió con el emperador, nos hablará de sus amigos, de los celos que siente al ver la relación con Hefaistión, de los matrimonios del rey, de todas sus conquistas y del momento de su muerte.

El inicio del libro es prometedor y hay momentos realmente brillantes, cono todos los relacionados con la conquista de la India. Las descripciones del paisaje y de las costumbres de las distintas culturas, sobre todo del lujo extraordinario de la corte, son espléndidas. La imagen que se nos transmite del Magno como un hombre tremendamente valiente que desea ir siempre más allá y que necesita ser amado por todos se va consolidando a medida que avanza la historia. El rechazo de los macedonios ante la paulatina "persificación" de su líder es comprensible y justifica los distintos intentos de rebelión que aparecen en la novela. Pero la falta -en mi edición- de un mapa que permita ubicar las campañas, la enorme cantidad de personajes que aparecen -sin un glosario que ayude a identificarlos-, las muchas situaciones bélicas similares y, posiblemente, una traducción no del todo acertada han hecho que el libro se me cayera de las manos en algunos momentos, y es una pena, porque es un clásico que merece ser leído.

[Cristina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mis conocimientos sobre Alejandro Magno antes de leer esta novela eran nulos. Sobre Grecia tampoco sabía mucho: conjunto de ciudades estado, cuna del pensamiento occidental, algo de mitología y que los romanos copiaron todo de los griegos. La educación secundaria se centró en el estudio de Roma profundizado más adelante en la facultad de Derecho. Lo romano, sí, ampliamente estudiado, mientras que Grecia se dejaba de lado.

A raíz de un viaje reciente al norte de Grecia pude visitar la tumba de Filipo II de Macedonia, padre de Alejandro Magno, en Vergina, descubierta en los años ochenta; el yacimiento arqueológico de Pella, capital del Reino de Macedonia y su fantástico museo arqueológico; y Dion, ciudad sagrada para los macedonios.

Quedé tan maravillada por el tesoro de la tumba de Filipo II y por el desarrollo urbanístico, administrativo, político y comercial de la ciudad que decidí leer a Mary Renault.

El muchacho persa es el segundo libro de una trilogía que la autora dedica a la vida de Alejandro Magno. La novela se centra en el periodo que abarca la expansión de Macedonia y del Helenismo hacia el este, conquistando los territorios del Imperio Persa hasta llegar a la India durante el siglo IV a.C.

Mary Renault nos ofrece un retrato íntimo de la figura de Alejandro desde los ojos de Bagoas, un eunuco persa que fue su fiel criado, consejero y amante. Los hechos que se cuentan en la novela están todos documentados, tal como indica la propia autora en una nota al final del libro lo que hace su lectura todavía más interesante, si cabe, dado su rigor histórico. Aparecen referencias al maestro de Alejandro durante su juventud, Aristóteles, puesto que su padre, Filipo II, se encargó de que su hijo fuera educado en los valores griegos, lo que le acompañará en su forma de entender la expansión de Macedonia; también a Aquiles como modelo de guerrero en el que Alejandro se inspira constantemente; a Calístenes, que se ocupó de documentar y publicitar sus triunfos en las conquistas, a modo de crónica; al matrimonio con Roxana, hija de un sátrapa y la incomprensión que ello supone entre sus soldados al no tratarse de una macedonia. El matrimonio con Roxana deja entrever que las relaciones amorosas que importan a Alejandro son las homosexuales. Mantiene una relación de afecto profundo con Hefaistion y también con Bagoas. Aparecen las diferencias entre la corte persa y la corte macedonia. Los persas son vistos como unos bárbaros mientras que Alejandro Magno es mucho más abierto, tolerante y, aunque sanguinario, en ocasiones, también respetuoso en muchas otras. Se mencionan datos curiosos como el afecto que profesa por su caballo, Bucéfalo, o su pasión desbocada por el vino.

Recomiendo ver este documental de National Geographic si no conocéis demasiado a Alejandro Magno: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6X6mB...

Está bien verlo antes de empezar el libro porque así la lectura resulta mucho más provechosa.

Se trata de una novela para aprender y disfrutar aunque las 5 estrellas que le he puesto no son tanto por su calidad literaria sino por el trabajo de documentación que hay detrás y por conseguir despertar el interés del lector por la figura de Alejandro Magno.

[Briar · Rating 5 out of 5]

phenomenal 😭

[Kenny · Rating 5 out of 5]

An outstanding read. I definitely will have to go back and read the first and third volumes in the series. Proper review will follow soon.

[Erik Graff · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the second of Mary Renault's Alexander trilogy. The first, Fire from Heaven, deals with his childhood until the death of the king of Macedon, his father. The third deals with events following upon his death. The Persian Boy details his conquests from the perspective of one of his lovers, a eunuch based on an actual historical personage.

It was at about this time, while in the midst of a Mary Renault binge, that I came upon one of her contemporary novels at a bookstore near Columbia University. It was about lesbians. I was rather shocked. Although I'd read at least six of her novels by this point and although all of them had at least some portrayal of ancient Greek bisexuality, it had never, ever entered my mind that she was gay or pushing the lifestyle. Well, she was and that is probably good for anyone seeking a sympathetic reconstruction of what it may have been like to live in such a culture. It certainly slipped past my homophobic defenses and brought me to a more open-minded attitude.

[Lola · Rating 5 out of 5]

The only historical romance the stole my heart and broke it at the end.....so sad. Bagoas was a young nobleman's son. Through treachery of his father's friend, his own family was killed and him sold into slavery, gelded and sold to a merchant. He was only 12 and he was raped and molested by his master and clients. Later he was sold to the King of Persia and became a dancer and a pleasure slave. When Alexander came, he escaped and was presented to Alexander as a gift. This here begins the romance of Bagoas the persian dancing boy and Alexander the Great.

Note that this is not entirely history since historical reference of Bagoas was very scarce. BUT he was referred to as Alexander's "most Beloved" and Alexander did indeed kiss him in public after he won the dancing competition. Sadly I have a feeling his place was not as high as Alexander's best friend Hephaestion, who was involved with Alexander as well. This book can be read independent of any of it's sequel or prequel. I believe this is the best out of the three, not just as gay romance but also romance in general.

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

Extremely vivid, descriptive historical fiction about the relationship between Alexander the Great and a slave boy named Bagoas, and (I say this as someone with very little interest in romance/love stories) a touchingly beautiful love story. The two characters are so gorgeously human and wonderful, and the selfless, unconditional love Bagoas feels for Alexander is just so moving and real. It’s a sad story, but in my opinion never maudlin, and it inspired so many deep emotions in me that it left me kind of shell-shocked after I had finished it. The ending seemed understated and even a little abrupt at first but then after I thought about it I decided it was a perfect ending, the truest to the character of Bagoas.

[CS · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bullet Review:

Wow.

That ending!! Where's the next book?! How can it just end like that?!

Full Review:

Alexander the Great (or, according to my personal historian, as his title should be known, in its native tongue, "o Megas Alexandros") is absolutely an awe-inspiring person. When you put into perspective the time period, the cultures, and then think about the things Alexander did, it's absolutely extraordinary.

This is the story of Alexander's later life, as told through the eyes of his Persian "boy", Bagoas, who also (in this story and perhaps in real life) was his lover. Through Bagoas' eyes, we see Alexander's extraordinary feats, but we also see how human Alexander is - how he was flawed, how he tired, how he loved, how he raged.

Last year, I started "Fire from Heaven", the first book in the Alexander trilogy, and my thoughts were all over the place. Mostly, I recall the writing being a challenge to get through (probably because of all the crap young adult I had been reading up to that time where subtlety and complexity are taboo). But I did not find this the case at all with "The Persian Boy". I personally loved the first person past tense used here - even more so because Renault executes it PERFECTLY!

First person is very chic these days, and it can be used well. It's plopping right into the head of your narrator and seeing and feeling and experiencing everything he or she does. That can be awesome - but it can also be limiting, ESPECIALLY for historical novels, or novels where something important happens away from the narrator.

"Eclipse" combated that with a cheesy "Bella is asleep but in her dreams hears Edward and Jacob talk about her" scene. Other novels have characters butt themselves in where they don't belong, miraculously receive information that is just what the reader needs, a chain of messengers, have the narrator skip over that time period and summarize it, or the absolute worst, switch to third person past to relay the scene.

Renault never does that; Bagoas is a pretty prominent character, part of Alexander's court, so it makes sense he would know some of what he does. In the beginning, Bagoas is a lesser eunuch in Darius' court and therefore knows almost nothing about what is going on, unless he is busy asking others questions. I'm not really doing a great job of saying it, but what I mean is: Renault doesn't feel the need to mangle her story so that Bagoas can relay everything to the audience.

I would say most of the characters are very relatable and, most importantly, REAL. Bagoas had his moments where he annoyed me (I think part of him was just in love with being in love with someone), but overall, his story was interesting, compelling, heart-rending, and passionate. I loved how he didn't try to supersede Alexander - such as giving Alexander key advice how to win battles and crap - nor does he also do the other thing I hate in first person: make all the characters he doesn't like evil, wicked people.

Bagoas doesn't like Hephaistion because he wants to be the only one to love Alexander. (By the way, this is the part that aggravated me most about Bagoas, because I LOVED the way Renault wrote Hephaistion and Alexander - if we are going to do that silly "team" thing that got popularized in "Twilight", I am Team Hephaistion.) But at no point does it mean that Hephaistion is an evil guy. Nope, it is clearly Bagoas' opinion. And most authors wouldn't do that. When I read Phillipa Gregory's "The Other Boleyn Girl", it was clear that not only did Mary think Anne was evil (or Jane a busybody), but the author thought that Anne was evil, and Anne was, therefore, written as an evil woman.

There is a HUGE amount of STUFFS that happen in this book, making it a really long book. But unlike many really long books, it's not like there's a scene or a section where I can say, "The Author should have red-inked that". In fact, if anything, I think the author could have put MORE into it. For instance, Bagoas hints that he lives in Egypt with Ptolemy at the end - how does that happen? Did he create a relationship with Ptolemy? If so, I would have loved to see the conversations.

This really is an incredible book looking at the life of Alexander. For a moment, I got to see how MUCH he accomplished, and yet how much more he wanted to do. Renault's Alexander comes alive on the pages through Bagoas' eyes, showing him to be a vivacious, intelligent, larger-than-life man - and yet just a man still.

This is a pretty meaty book, and I found it better to enjoy in larger chunks than a page or two at a time. This, coupled with my occasional aggravation with Bagoas and my desire to leave that final star open for the final book in the series, is what causes this to be rated 4 stars instead of the full 5.

[Seth Reeves · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 Stars

Can't say I hated this book nor that I liked it, really. The story is narrated entirely by a eunuch, Bagoas, that Alexander is gifted by a defeated Persian lord early on in Alexander's conquest of Persia and Asia in general. The eunuch loves Alexander so much that it gets annoying as the story goes on. He is constantly going on about his love for Alexander and their nights together, also in very 1950s prudish expansive prose. I'm not opposed to reading about relationships but as this is a telling of the story of a great military leader I would have enjoyed the narrative more if we could have heard from some of the soldiers, sailors or other conquered peoples regarding the events that took place.

The book is mind-numbingly repetitive in several aspects. There's a line in one of the later chapters where Bagoas says "Alexander inspired jealously" and I just wanted to scream "No shit, Sherlock! You've only been saying how fucking jealous everyone one is of him and his favor for the past 400 pages!" Even the war scenarios took on this repetitiveness after a while. He keeps explaining in different ways that Alexander rewards fealty and punishes betrayal. After this happens for the sixth or seventh time I think I got the point.

I guess my biggest criticism of the book is that it's about an extremely interesting historical figure and the book is just barely readable. It's amazing how a really great writer can stoke your fascination in the mundane or the unknown while a middling writer takes on a well known and intriguing subject and actually saps away your interest, as is the case with this book.

In my heart I am a lover of history and this was a not completely unpleasant way to deepen my knowledge about the life and death of Alexander the Great.
I only hope that another better storyteller takes a swing at this source material and manages to wring out of it a better novel for future generations to learn about and immerse themselves in one of the western world's first well-chronicled major historical figures.

[Jennifer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Para mí, impecable historia y maravillosamente contada. El conocimiento que tenía esta mujer del Magno es indiscutible. Te puede gustar más o menos el hecho de que se nota que es una enamorada de Alejandro. Yo, que soy una enamorada de la Grecia clásica, me rindo fácilmente a ese punto de vista, la verdad. No he sentido decepción, como le ha pasado a otra gente, de que el libro se centrara en Bagoas, el esclavo persa y no en Hephaestion. Para mí es todo un acierto. Bagoas y su punto de vista te hace mucho más fácil entender esa atracción y admiración que llegó a sentir Alejandro por la cultura y pueblo persa. De todas formas el incomparable amor que sentía por Hephaestion se palpa y rezuma por todos lados y no hace ninguna falta que la historia se centre en ellos dos para darse cuenta de ello. Me ha parecido muy interesante el punto de vista del muchacho persa, además de que su historia te atrapa totalmente. No es un personaje con el que vayas a empatizar, eso hay que tenerlo claro desde el principio, su vida es muy muy triste. Es una mentalidad muy muy diferente. No olvidemos que es un esclavo, ha sido educado para ello y te choca mucho que acabe siendo feliz con la idea y que sus únicas metas en la vida sean servir a su señor. No es fácil entender eso, sobretodo si no eres familiar con la época clásica. Pero es la historia que es, es como ocurrió y no puedes evitar llegar a sentir tanta admiración por Alejandro como todos sus compañeros. Sí, a pesar de todas las barbaridades que cometían en la época y de que las vidas en aquellos tiempos no valían nada. A pesar de todo eso, es una historia épica, un viaje increíble y Alejandro, tanto si prefieres imaginarlo como a un grande o como a un tirano, no te deja indiferente.