Helen Character Analysis

I was so small; I was rumored to be simple. If he backed down now, it would be a dishonor. […] Without meaning to, I stepped back.

He smirked then. "Coward."

"I am no coward." My voice rose, and my skin went hot.

“Your father thinks you are." His words were deliberate, as if he were savoring them. "I heard him tell my father so."

"He did not." But I knew he had.

The boy stepped closer. He lifted a fist. "Are you calling me a liar?" I knew that he would hit me now. He was just waiting for an excuse. I could imagine the way my father would have said it. Coward. I planted my hands on his chest and shoved, as hard as I could. Our land was one of grass and wheat. Tumbles should not hurt.

I am making excuses. It was also a land of rocks.

“She must have been willing, though. Menelaus' palace is like a fortress. If she had struggled or cried out, someone would have heard. She knew he must come after her, for his honor if nothing else. And that Agamemnon would seize this opportunity and invoke the oath.”

“So you think she did it on purpose? To cause the war?” This shocked me.

“Maybe. She used to be known as the most beautiful woman in our kingdoms. Now they say she's the most beautiful woman in the world." He put on his best singer's falsetto. "A thousand ships have sailed for her.”

[…]

“Maybe she really fell in love with Paris.”

“Maybe she was bored. After ten years shut up in Sparta, I'd want to leave too.”

“Maybe Aphrodite made her.”

“Maybe they'll bring her back with them.”

We considered this.

“I think Agamemnon would attack anyway.”

“I think so too. They never even mention her anymore.”

“Except in speeches to the men.”

The thought of Troy's fall pierces me with vicious pleasure. They deserve to lose their city. It is their fault, all of it. We have lost ten years, and so many men, and Achilles will die, because of them. No more.

[…]

I will crack their uncrackable city, and capture Helen, the precious gold yolk within. I imagine dragging her out under my arm, dumping her before Menelaus. Done. No more men will have to die for her vanity.

[… ]

I am delirious, fevered with my dream of Helen captive in my arms. The stones are like dark waters that flow ceaselessly over something I have dropped, that I want back. I forget about the god, why I have fallen, why my feet stick in the same crevices I have already climbed. Perhaps this is all I do, I think, demented—climb walls and fall from them.

I was so small; I was rumored to be simple. If he backed down now, it would be a dishonor. […] Without meaning to, I stepped back.

He smirked then. "Coward."

"I am no coward." My voice rose, and my skin went hot.

“Your father thinks you are." His words were deliberate, as if he were savoring them. "I heard him tell my father so."

"He did not." But I knew he had.

The boy stepped closer. He lifted a fist. "Are you calling me a liar?" I knew that he would hit me now. He was just waiting for an excuse. I could imagine the way my father would have said it. Coward. I planted my hands on his chest and shoved, as hard as I could. Our land was one of grass and wheat. Tumbles should not hurt.

I am making excuses. It was also a land of rocks.

“She must have been willing, though. Menelaus' palace is like a fortress. If she had struggled or cried out, someone would have heard. She knew he must come after her, for his honor if nothing else. And that Agamemnon would seize this opportunity and invoke the oath.”

“So you think she did it on purpose? To cause the war?” This shocked me.

“Maybe. She used to be known as the most beautiful woman in our kingdoms. Now they say she's the most beautiful woman in the world." He put on his best singer's falsetto. "A thousand ships have sailed for her.”

[…]

“Maybe she really fell in love with Paris.”

“Maybe she was bored. After ten years shut up in Sparta, I'd want to leave too.”

“Maybe Aphrodite made her.”

“Maybe they'll bring her back with them.”

We considered this.

“I think Agamemnon would attack anyway.”

“I think so too. They never even mention her anymore.”

“Except in speeches to the men.”

The thought of Troy's fall pierces me with vicious pleasure. They deserve to lose their city. It is their fault, all of it. We have lost ten years, and so many men, and Achilles will die, because of them. No more.

[…]

I will crack their uncrackable city, and capture Helen, the precious gold yolk within. I imagine dragging her out under my arm, dumping her before Menelaus. Done. No more men will have to die for her vanity.

[… ]

I am delirious, fevered with my dream of Helen captive in my arms. The stones are like dark waters that flow ceaselessly over something I have dropped, that I want back. I forget about the god, why I have fallen, why my feet stick in the same crevices I have already climbed. Perhaps this is all I do, I think, demented—climb walls and fall from them.