Download the free Kindle app and start reading Kindle books instantly on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
Read instantly on your browser with Kindle for Web.
Using your mobile phone camera - scan the code below and download the Kindle app.
OK
The Persian Boy Hardcover – January 1, 1974
- Print length436 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherBantam Books
- Publication dateJanuary 1, 1974
"Layla" by Colleen Hoover for $7.19
From #1 New York Times bestselling author Colleen Hoover comes a novel that explores life after tragedy and the enduring spirit of love. | Learn more
Similar items that may deliver to you quickly
Product details
- ASIN : B0014C8CSA
- Publisher : Bantam Books (January 1, 1974)
- Language : English
- Hardcover : 436 pages
- Item Weight : 1.01 pounds
- Best Sellers Rank: #677,828 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #2,510 in Historical British & Irish Literature
- Customer Reviews:
About the author
Mary Renault (1905-1983) was best known for her historical novels set in Ancient Greece with their vivid fictional portrayals of Theseus, Socrates, Plato and Alexander the Great.
Born in London in 1905 and educated at the University of Oxford, she trained as a nurse at Oxford's Radcliffe Infirmary where she met her lifelong partner, fellow nurse Julie Mullard. After completing her training she wrote her first novel, Purposes of Love, in 1937. In 1948, after her novel North Face won a MGM prize worth $150,000, she and Mullard emigrated to South Africa.
It was in South Africa that Renault was able to write forthrightly about homosexual relationships for the first time - in her last contemporary novel, The Charioteer , published in 1953, and then in her first historical novel, 1956's The Last of the Wine, the story of two young Athenians who study under Socrates and fight against Sparta. Both these books had male protagonists, as did all her later works that included homosexual themes. Her sympathetic treatment of love between men would win Renault a wide gay readership.
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on Amazon-
Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
The Persian Boy tells the story of Bagoas, who is born into an aristocratic family. In the first few pages Bagoas is subjected to the turmoil resulting from the death of King Ochos. His father, mother, and sisters, are killed and he himself is castrated and sold at the age of 10. Another tragedy follows in time: Bagoas is sold by his master to other men as a prostitute. Procured for King Darius, Bagoas's luck changes only slightly; instead of being sold to many men, he is kept by one man, a King he holds in awe for his station, and not out of personal admiration.
Darius has made the mistake of underestimating the young Macedonian King Alexander, who at 20 undertakes the conquest of Greek cities in Asia Minor. But Alexander closes in on the Persian Empire, and Darius suffers one defeat after another until his own warlords lose faith in him. When a coup sees Darius taken prisoner, Bagoas escapes with only his life. In time, he is rescued by one of those warlords, and as fate has it, he is to beg Alexander for clemency. Bagoas is used to sweeten the deal--as a gift.
Alexander is presented by Renault as a man capable of more than mortal feats who is still reassuringly human--more than that, he needs love desperately, from the hero-worship of the soldiers who follow him to the intimate devotion of his lover Hephaistion. Bagoas has never known love at all, only use. When Macedonian King and Persian courtesan meet, the inevitable happens--and this is where the enchantment begins.
Renault's mastery is impeccable. With a few well-chosen words, she conjures the images of the great Persian palaces--the ruins at Persepolis, Susa, Ekbatana, and Babylon; she recreates the travels of the Macedonian army so well that any reader who picks up her companion book "The Nature of Alexander" will look at the pictures and recognize the structures. Renault is a master characters builder. Bagoas is keenly intelligent, charming, courtly, sarcastic, prey to jealousy and possessiveness when it comes to his lover; his growing maturity merely adds to the pain he experiences as the affair and Alexander's conquests progress. And Alexander is much more accessible here than in "Fire From Heaven," which is a wonderful book but presents Alexander as all light and no fire. Here we get to see Alexander as preening boy, heroic warrior, pragmatic king, and devoted lover. It is a marvelous love story whether or not it actually happened.
The book is narrated from a first person point of view, and it's Bagoas perspective that is used to frame the events that go from Alexander's 20th birthday to his death. A wonderful read.
Heart-achingly beautiful prose is here allied to historical authenticity to a degree achieved by no other historical fiction writer I know of. As should be, but isn't, the case with every historical novel, all that is here invented could realistically have happened and is in accord with the spirit of its setting. But Renault goes well beyond showing us Hellenic culture and values, she writes as if she were an ancient Greek to the depths of her soul and makes no compromises for modern sensibilities. Hence whether you will like this novel depends much on how you feel about the very different society it brings to life.
Having Alexander's story told by one brought up in a very different culture is an excellent device. Not only does the steady growth in initially poor understanding between King and boy deepen their love story and colour it with humour, but it allows Renault to bring Alexander and his Macedonians to life through an outsider's view. Often it is the most critical observations of the amusingly chauvinistic Persian boy that illuminate the cultural beauty of the Macedonians, or more generally the Greeks. Unashamed male nudity is one example. "Barbarians! ... Truly I had left all civilised things behind me," thinks a deeply shocked Bagoas when he first sees the King and his friends bathing naked in a river, then adds, "All the same ... if one knew no better, what pleasure to slide through the sparkling river, bare as a fish." Bagoas's similar shock at the familiarity of the Macedonian soldiers with their King puts a spotlight on how this facilitated the extraordinarily powerful bond between them.
The main criticism usually made is that Renault is too favourable in her depiction of Alexander. I shall return shortly to the "too" in this, but she makes no bones about being favourable to him. She adored him, and by choosing as her narrator a boy who was also in love with him, she relieved herself of any obligation to neutrality or objectivity. I had better confess I share this love too and am thus in complete sympathy with her approach. This is my favourite novel by my favourite writer, and having first read it at fourteen, no other has come near it in influence on me.
The most common grounds for denigrating Alexander in our age of moral repugnance for war are that success in this is all that Alexander was about. Not only does Renault illustrate well his burning curiosity in a wild range of fields and the creativity it inspired, but she points out that "not till more than a century later did a handful of philosophers even start to question the morality of war. In his time the issue was not whether, but how one made it." It is not only anachronistic to deprecate his military achievements, but misplaced to criticise her admiration of them. She does not admire them for their own sake, but as the acts of one who in pursuit of his longings gave enhanced meaning to life by showing mankind it could go further than it had imagined realistically possible.
The accusation that her Alexander is too perfect is unfair because she does not ignore or gloss over his bad deeds. Does a perfect man kill an old comrade in a drunken rage? This and other barbarities are recounted at length. They do not turn Renault or Bagoas against Alexander because they are the faults of one whom they love unrepentantly. However reprehensible, they are understandable and sometimes illuminate an attractive quality. When, for example, Alexander has his best friend Hephaistion's doctor summarily hung for debatable negligence leading to his death, one is shocked, but also moved and uplifted by the passionate love that inspired such a savage deed.
Those suspecting her depiction of Alexander is idealised should ask themselves why it was, as Renault says in her author's note, that "no other human being has attracted in his lifetime, from so many men, so fervent a devotion." That the mutineers at Opis "complained to Alexander of not being allowed to kiss him is not fiction but history." There is powerful magic to be explained here which an ordinary man's qualities will not answer.
One serious flaw with The Persian Boy as a historically true portrait of Alexander is the depiction of him as "not a boy-lover; it was the comely young men around him that pleased his eye." This not only runs counter to the Greek norm, according to which attraction to boys (specifically males not having grown facial hair) as well as women was taken for granted, but is flatly contradicted by the historical sources. While none of them suggest Alexander was ever attracted to a man, Athenaios says (Deipnosophists 603) he "was passionate about boys" and gives examples. Curtius Rufus, our only source on the age of Bagoas, presents him as appealing because he was "of remarkable beauty and in the very flower of boyhood."
Though The Persian Boy has attracted a vast number of good reviews, I believe this point has not been addressed before and is therefore worth further exploration. Both history and Renault record Alexander as romantically involved with some of his "paides basilikoi" (literally King's Boys), so this affords a clear example of how she has adapted history to make Alexander a lover of young men. Where English historians usually describe them as pages, she calls them squires. She mentions one being eighteen and implies they were all young men. In reality, we have the reliable word of Arrian, (Anabasis IV 13 i) that they were enrolled "as soon as they reached puberty", ie. around thirteen. Bagoas is correctly made to say "two or three years was the usual time of service", which must therefore have ended well before manhood. The distinction may well have seemed trivial at the time she wrote, 1972, but has unfortunately become important since then due to dishonest attempts to present ancient Greece as a precedent or model for contemporary gay society. The contradictions between them in both taste and ideals are fundamental and the most irreconcilable is whether homosexual affairs should be between men and egalitarian, or, as she faithfully depicted in her other novels, between men and boys and bringing complementary benefits to each.
Renault is recorded as confiding in friends that in her conception of an ideal man's life, after an interlude for marriage, his interest should focus on young men. Alexander was her ideal man, so it is hardly surprising she was tempted to adapt him thus. I suspect the same motive led to her deprecation of Alexander's heterosexual passions, a point I am explaining in a review of the sequel, Funeral Games, though it applies to both books. In any case, not even the very best novel or history can be perfect, and this single significant historical inaccuracy is nowhere near enough to put me off recommending it most highly.
Edmund Marlowe, author of Alexander’s Choice, the tragedy of an Eton schoolboy deeply inspired by this novel, amazon.com/dp/1481222112