I can always tell a book is special when any attempt to describe what it means to me ends with me sitting in a pool of my own feelings and wishing that language wasn’t quite so limited. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller is one of those books. It’s been on my radar for a very long time—probably not long after it first came out in 2011—but it wasn’t until last week that I picked it up off my shelves, where it has been languishing for a few years. And if I’m honest, it was one of the most powerful reading experiences I’ve ever had.

Part of what made this such a powerful read had to do with timing and what was happening in my life, but I’ll start with the merits of the book itself, and then get into my personal experience with it.

The Song of Achilles tells the story of Achilles and Patroclus from Greek mythology. Similar to Madeline Miller’s other major novel, Circe, it takes a myth and then humanizes and contextualizes it.

The best way I can described reading Madeline Miller is this: it’s like standing in the sun on the beach in one perfect moment and you just want to freeze that moment and make it last forever. Her stories are so warm, immersive, atmospheric, gorgeous, vivid…so beautifully human. Her characters feel so real because everything genuine. Nothing feels forced or contrived. It is so easy to let my guard down when reading her books because I can tell I am in the hands of a master writer and storyteller. With The Song of Achilles, I found myself immediately invested in Patroclus (who is the narrator) as a character and wishing for his happiness, even though I know that his story has a tragic ending. (It’s like watching Hamlet. You know what you’re in for, but every time you keep hoping it will end differently for the poor guy.)

Beyond the phenomenal characters and writing, the setting is a true standout to me. I think Miller’s background in classical Greece and Rome really shine through. Her ability to evoke that setting feels so effortless, but it also feels timeless—by which I mean both lasting and also not belonging to any time or place. This again is due to the very human quality of her writing, characters, and story.

I picked this book off my shelves to read during an extremely stressful and anxiety-filled stretch this last month. In a moment where I felt like I just could not handle everything, I started to read The Song of Achilles, trusting that it would be good, and desperately wishing that it would distract me and help me get through the next few days (or however long it took to finish it). It did.

I don’t know why I picked The Song of Achilles in that difficult moment, when I had passed over it so many times before in picking my next read. But I’m so glad I did. The warmth and the immersive nature of this book was exactly what I needed.

For me, this experience really illustrates the power of reading—that in an extremely difficult moment, I found a book that brought me comfort and calm when nothing else could.

It’s kind of funny: as powerful as my reading experience was, I don’t know that I will ever come back to The Song of Achilles in the future. I may. (Who knows?) But it may be one of those things that just stays in that specific chapter of my life. Some things are just like that.

Either way, it’s hard to find the words to say just how grateful I am that this book was there, sitting on my shelves, when I needed it.