The Trojan War calls to mind a set of fantastic images—divine beings descending on a battlefield, seers prophesying after the flights of birds, bloody sacrifices and miraculous recoveries, blessed warriors and cursed heels—all as impossible as the beauty that supposedly started the whole mess. Yes, Homer's Iliad is based on real events, but surely, we think, they were nothing so unbelievable, so impeccably epic, so dramatic.

Barry Strauss begs to differ. In The Trojan War: A New History, he tells the story of the Trojan War not as Homer does—who would dare try?—nor as it actually happened, for that we will never know. Rather, he uses new archaeological evidence at the former site of Troy, the words of Homer and other poets, and scholarly knowledge of the Late Bronze Age, the period in which the Trojan War would have occurred, to tell a story that falls somewhere in between: the Trojan War as it could have happened.

The Trojan War, Strauss informs us, would have taken place in the late twelfth-century B.C., at a city across the Aegean Sea from Greece known to readers of Homer as Troy or Ilion, and to the Hittites, the reigning empire of the age, as Taruisa or Wilusa. The city was probably a Hittite ally, perfectly situated as a center of trade, and, as a result of its fortunate location, wealthy and prosperous enough for the Greeks to envy. Amidst this larger historical context, Strauss sets the stage in poignant, if unconfirmed, descriptions: " Troy was a sturdy fortress. The plain of Troy was broad but, otherwise, it was no place for a bloody brawl. It was soggy for much of the year, which was bad for chariots. It may have been malarial—the evidence is unclear." Strauss is careful not to state anything too definitively, but he doesn't leave out the more tantalizing possibilities on the basis that they are unproven.

In the introduction, Strauss states his intent to "start with Homer and then scrutinize all details of what we know about the Late Bronze Age." This combination produces some surprises, as it turns out Homer, composing around 800 B.C., was more well-informed about life in the Bronze Age (c. 3000 B.C.-c. 1000 B.C.) than has previously been assumed. The practice of deciding battles by dueling champions rather than armies and mutilating enemy corpses, for example, "are not Homeric inventions but well-attested realities of Bronze Age life." Such a revelation of truth in these seemingly incredible details may make up for the fact that the heroes of the war were not descended from immortals after all.

Then again, perhaps the believability of the heroes in their mortal imperfection is more exciting than the idea of a war fought by gods. Strauss briefly mentions that names are easy to pass on unchanged through the oral tradition that sustained the epics through centuries, but his more salient point is that even if Homer's characters are merely symbols, they are not embodiments of ideals but rather stand-ins for people who really did exist. As Strauss puts it, "Priam may never have ruled Troy, but Kings Alaksandu and Walmu did." So Strauss treats Homer's characters as historic persons, their existence as depicted being "plausible but unproven."

So we meet again beautiful Helen of tawny locks and shining eyes lined with kohl; charming Paris with his prowess at the bow; poor, undistinguished, red-haired Menelaus; and all the rest of the Greeks and Trojans, characters almost certainly familiar to anyone reading the book. Yet Strauss adds a fresh dimension to these familiar figures by approaching them as fact rather than fiction, sketching out how they might have felt based on what is known about the times in which they lived. He describes the greater freedom enjoyed by Trojan queens than by their Spartan counterparts, then speculates on whether Helen might have been calculatingly ambitious enough to see Paris as her key to that freedom. The effect is a balancing act between history lesson and literary interpretation, without getting overly involved in either.

To be sure, there is plenty of history in the book. Strauss backs up all of his claims about Greek Bronze Age customs with references to similar customs and events in Egyptian and Hittite history, including reports of their battles, quotes from the letters of kings, and descriptions of their cultural and military practices. Agammemnon's sacrifice of his daughter Iphigenia sets up a discussion of human sacrifice in the Bronze Age; Strauss points to the bodies of perfectly healthy children, bones cut with knives, found on Crete, and other equally gruesome pieces of evidence to suggest that such an act might not have been so unlikely at the time.

Gory tidbits appear throughout the book; it is, after all, about war, and Strauss, much like Homer, does not shy away from descriptions of heads smashed and stomachs impaled. Unlike Homer, however, he also explores the quieter but just as brutal side of battle—the smells, the filth, the hunger of those not lucky enough to be among the elite, are as fascinating to Strauss as the adventures of the major players. Even simply reflecting on the sheer mass of anonymous casualties strengthens the human dimension, making it seem at once more impressive and more real.

Of course, the familiar elements of the story come into play. Strauss leads the reader through the various phases of the war, explaining how they most likely would have happened if they did in fact take place, mixing in the spectacular but not impossible along with the mundane. The landing at Troy, the raids on nearby towns, the infighting among the Greeks, the camp outside Troy—which never quite turned into an actual siege—all these are brought to life. Tales abound of slaughters by day and espionage by night; Strauss gives consideration to military tactics of the day and the relative wisdom of Trojan strategy.

Ultimately, as Strauss puts it, "History is made up not of stones or words but of people." As the book nears the end of the war, the part that the Iliad focuses on, Strauss gives more attention to the personal clashes between Agammemnon, the leader of the Greeks, and Achilles, their greatest warrior. Strauss also gives insight into the mind of Hector, prince of Troy, arguing that Hector's desire for one shining moment of glory, rather than victory through a patient war of attrition on the Greeks, led to his death at the hands of Achilles.

Achilles, says the myth, knew that he would lead either a long and quiet life or a short but glorious one, and in killing Hector made his final decision; he died shortly thereafter, in some ways a victim of the same tendencies that felled Hector. That people of the Bronze Age believed in predictions and oracles is known; whether there existed a great warrior who believed in this specific prophesy is unimportant. Strauss understands that underneath the mysticism lies an expression of the human desire for glory; he knows that the true story lies not in Achilles's heel, but in his rage.

It is this talent for getting to the universal truths beneath the myths that makes Strauss's account such a fine read. His tone is invitational, beseeching us to imagine this scene, to consider this situation or to meet this character. Reading the book becomes almost an interactive experience, as Strauss draws the outlines of his own imaginings and leaves it to his readers to fill in the gaps on their own. His prose is fluid and absorbing, his historical background fascinating but carefully chosen so as not to be overwhelming. His passion for the subject is evident in his writing, and in asking us to picture the war in all its horrifying splendor, he is also asking that we share in his excitement. The Trojan War is a narrative of possibility; when he reveals that the Trojan Horse, while highly unlikely, could have been real, it ceases to matter whether or not it was. Strauss presents a compelling case for the outline of the war, but he has his readers fill in the details, freeing us to speculate as we like about what really happened on the fields of Troy.

Natalia Irizarry-Cole is wary of Greeks bearing gifts.