I'm not finding it amusing to be the dissonant voice in a chorus of near-universal praise for this novel, especially when I don't have any hipster inclinations and this is a retelling of The Iliad (a book I adore) from the point of view of a very minor character: Achilles' war prize slave Briseis, a choice of protagonist that I don't recall seeing more than once before.
And this starts very well, so well that for the majority of the first half you don't have much cause to expect it to disappoint. But disappoint it does, in the end. As usual for me, I can easily list the reasons.
For a start, length. I think this story should've been longer, and with that I don't mean that the author should've crammed in as many words as she could only to make the book fatter. I mean the plot should've included more, specifically in the second half, where it's all so rushed, so full of holes, all told increasingly more and more in vignette-style passages that make the flow bumpy and jumpy, in abrupt stops and starts like some old car. True, it could've stayed as long as it currently is without adding more, too, but on condition that the narration be evened out, large chunks edited out or rewritten, as many time-jump holes filled as possible, and a better handling of transition from one event to another that happen in the same chapter (which are short, so this makes some vignettes read more like swift summaries of an event/action). The author knows how to write and create characters, but she doesn't have a good command of storytelling flow and pacing.
Then, believability. I have no particular preference for Homeric retellings being fantasy or historical or steampunk for all I care, but I do expect that they follow the rules of the chosen genre they belong in. I expect believability and pausibility within the conventions of a genre. If you tell me your retelling is a Sci-Fi space opera, I'm all ears and eyes for the spaceships and all the cool tech thingies you'll invent. But if you classify your retelling as Historical Fiction, and then break the rules of historicity and plausibility, then... I'm sorry, the story can no longer be sold with that label. Hand of Fire falls in the fantasy genre, it can be correctly tagged Historical Fantasy, but not HF. It's not historical, it ceased to be the moment the author made the gods real. It could have been written so that it be the characters who believe the gods are real and alive beings, and that'd be fine and appropriate for the time and for a purely historical tale, but this author actually made Thetis (mother of Achilles) appear on-page in all her glory. And there are other instances of the gods' existence being a reality and their meddling in the affairs of men, too. That's just breaking the suspension of disbelief.
And then, characterisation. in the beginning, and for more than a dozen chapters, Briseis is a believable and interesting woman, one you can see actually existing and doing the things she does. I liked her in those early chapters. Then... stuff happens that brings that image down. First is the fact that she starts to have strange dreams that are unnervingly erotic, in which she sees a god of her people, Telipinu, who looks (oh, surprise!) exactly like Achilles down to his glorious golden mane.
What? Oh, sure, yes, yes, we've all had wet dreams at some point in life. That's not the argument here! The point of these dreams is straight out of a lurid bodice-ripper, merely there to establish that Briseis is Fated By The Gods™ to meet Achilles and have wild monkey sex with him before the gates of Troy, and the detail that the god of her dreams looks like a clone of the demigod of her wet dreams is included just so she'll know Achilles instantly when he barges in wielding his sword, brings the walls down with the sheer power of his sexiness and carries her off on his shoulder, caveman-like.
Is that realistic? Definitely not. It's not like photos and videos existed back then that'd influence a girl's subconscious and lead her to dream with her celebrity crush, the way Briseis does. The strong-minded, industrious, dignified, and likable girl who can take in great loss and challenges in her short life is suddenly turned into a poor victim to a brute husband, is captured by another golden brute, forgets too soon and too easily that he killed one brother and is the cause of the deaths of the other two brothers, and goes weak in the knees on barely arriving to the Achaean camp. Or, in other words, Briseis experiences a regression and character inconsistencies in the name of shoehorning her into doing as Fate decreed.
Which leads me to insta-love. As Briseis is a slave, she really cannot consent or reject freely to becoming Achilles' bedmate, which is why there are accusations of Stockholm Syndrome some people throw at this when it is brought up. Starkston says in her Author's Notes that she doesn't share this opinion, and I'd have loved to read what her counter-arguments were. I certainly hope they are much better than what's done in the novel to circumvent this thorny point and avoid any scent of forced seduction masquerading as love. Unfortunately, the novel does nothing to counter-argue credibly and logically to the mentioned concerns, because, on top of the Fateful Dreams plot element that "prepares" the field for their meeting, when that does come to happen, Achilles experiences a fit of love at first lust. He meets Briseis, witnesses her rash action in defence of her brother, and goes into regretful hand-wringing on her behalf that's soon morphed into love.
And she? She "resists" for a short while, a too short while given her family's tragedy because of Achilles in this novel, and then the token resistance is immediately wiped out to engage in passionate lovemaking following Briseis' saving a fellow slave girl from rape and being covered up by Achilles to escape punishement. (By the way, why is it that in so many novels the immediate follow-up of attempted sexual assault is sex? Who, after narrowly escaping rape, thinks "Yay! I want to shag this hottie who saved me!"?) She remembers her dreams, concludes that her destiny is to be with Achilles, feelings appear overriding the ugly reality of killing and slavery, and she's in his bed right away. Basically, the second half of the book is: Briseis comes, beds Achilles, gets pregnant, and leaves. (By the way again, where are Achilles' wife and son Neoptolemus? Never are they mentioned in this novel, where he talks of wanting Briseis to be his wife when they return to Phthia. Uh? Hey, Achilles, have you forgotten Deidamia? And that your Mummy told you that you won't come back alive from Troy...? Sigh. Many holes, this book has, my young padawan).
It's not realistic to make a love story blossom so fast and with so little cause, while ignoring the problematic elements and the war in general. It's true that The Iliad has Achilles in love with his war prize and that she does seem to reciprocate despite the circumstances. But one has to take into consideration that the Trojan War spans a full decade and so there was plenty of time, implied years, for the sentiments between Achilles and Briseis to develop. Years for them to know each other, to have a routine, a life in common, and so on.
Finally, I'd like to comment on a small detail: Briseis' father. When I read his name was Glaukos in this novel, I was wondering what had happened to Briseus, which is how her father is called in the original. But since the author had reinvented her as a priestess of Kamrusepa and given her a life of her own that Homer and the other poets of the Epic Cycle never gave her, I didn't think much of it, ascribing it as just another right to creative licence bestowed on every reteller. Until I read in the Author's Notes that Starkston changed Briseus' name to Glaukos "purely for clarity." And I don't agree in the least with it. Whilst the intention to make old Greek names as simple as possible is fine, I think she did it already with giving her invented characters easy names, and should have let the names of those characters named in The Iliad intact. It's condescending to assume it'll be complicated or unclear if father and daughter have similar names, more so when neither have a name that's overlong, complex to pronounce or hard to remember. After all, it's not unheard of in the real world for fathers and daughters to have similar names: George and Georgia, Peter and Petra, Michael and Michelle, Christian and Christine, etc. So why think readers wouldn't be able to tell old Briseus, who only appears in the beginning, from the protagonist, Briseis? Even more, there's the priest Chryses and his daughter Chryseis, who is Agamemnon's captive, and the author hasn't changed names there though she conveniently omits naming the priest, leaving it at stating his position when speaking of him. Also, readers that love Historical Fiction are likelier to do well with repetitive names and people with the same name, because that's common in history. Look at readers of English historical fiction, for example, where everyone seems to be called Henry, Edward, Richard and Elizabeth, Mary and Jane, yet they can tell who is who anyway.
Three stars it is, mostly for the first half and the unusual POV if not for the passable reimagining.