This chapter discusses Arrian’s characterization of Alexander the Great. Beginning from a brief history of scholarship on Arrian and his unusually large role in shaping modern understandings of Alexander, it approaches Arrian as an active creator of historical knowledge. Using examples from the Anabasis, it demonstrates that Arrian observed a shift in Alexander’s behaviour arising from the increasingly complex political and personal circumstances of his life. He described this change overtly at times, but more often by setting Alexander into a literary framework based on Herodotus’ portraits of despotic Persian kings and tweaked to reflect philosophical and moral concerns contemporary in Arrian’s own lifetime. The Anabasis forms the core of the discussion but the Discourses of Epictetus and the Indica provide complementary readings and show consistency in Arrian’s approach to his favourite subject.

This chapter addresses problems in the philosophy of interpretation with regard to Latin authors. Its central question is what we mean by the ‘author’. The history of ‘persona’, the notion that the speaker in first-person literature and by extension the image of the author presented in any text is a ‘mask’, is explored for its theoretical and interpretive value, but also critiqued for the potential ethical and political issues it raises. The author should be considered not a window onto the life of the flesh-and-blood Roman, but rather as a construct arising in part, but only in part, from an initial human consciousness living in a specific historical place and time, then developed through a dynamic process of reception. The battle for the life and soul of the author is the story of interpretation, in which the question of the extent to which ‘original intention’ can or should be the goal of exegesis was one of the great controversies of the 20th century and remains a creatively unsolvable problem. I argue that there are certain kinds of readings which are rightly and explicitly situated outside the scope of ‘original intention’, of which I take feminist readings as exemplary.

We consider changes (Persianizing one) that Alexander made to his court from mid-330 BCE onwards, as well as opposition to it (and him) in the form of conspiracies and other clashes. Discussion is framed by a brief look at changes introduced by previous kings, as well as at new evidence from archaeology in north Greece that alters our understanding of early Macedon. It also takes into account the Greco-Roman literary topoi that overlay our sources, particularly with regard to major conspiracies, conflict, and the ‘mutiny’ at Opis – all in an effort to excavate the original underlying Macedonian perspective, insofar as we can.

The chapter examines the developments in the field of Latin studies in different periods and in different countries and institutions. Section 1 gives an outline of the history and the status of Latin studies in the schools and universities in a variety of continents and countries, over a certain period of time and in politically and ideologically distinct phases. The chapter analyses the diverging methods and research issues in Latin studies resulting from different institutional conditions. It scrutinises the influence of western European educational institutions in which Latin has been taught on individual academic disciplines also outside Europe, and raises the question whether they are determined by national or ideological schools of thought. Section 2 contains case studies seeking to determine the extent to which characteristic ‘national’ differences impinge on research in Latin. Using the example of critical editions of specific Latin texts, of the developments in the commentary tradition and of approaches derived from theoretical discourses elsewhere, the chapter attempts to illustrate the persistence or slowdown of national traditions in Latin studies to the present day.

Residual languages, which are represented in the onomasticon of first-millennium BCE Babylonia, are Kassite and Urartian. In addition, it is likely that also other dialects from the central Zagros and the Armenian plateau left traces in the pertinent Neo- and Late Babylonian corpus, but concrete examples cannot be detected. The Kassite onomastic material consists mainly of surnames which were inherited from the late-Kassite and early post-Kassite periods in Babylonia, as well as of several prestigious royal names. Only two Urartian anthroponyms are recorded in first-millennium BCE Babylonia. There is a small number of atypical anthroponyms, mostly consisting of reduplicated syllables (frequently two or three) with or without suffixes. The number of unaffiliated names is restricted. Several gentilics are used as given names. The total percentage of all these unrelated categories in the abundant Neo- and Late Babylonian onomastic corpus is very low, almost negligible.

This chapter discusses Aramaic personal names, as attested in Babylonian cuneiform sources from the Neo- and Late Babylonian periods. Linguistically these names are of West Semitic nature, whereas they are written in cuneiform script used to express Late Babylonian Akkadian. Cuneiform text groups that furnish the bulk of the data are those from Yahudu, Bit-Abi-râm, and surroundings (sixth and fifth centuries BCE) and the Murašû corpus from Nippur (second half of the fifth century BCE). These corpora differ from most contemporary cuneiform archives. Rather than portraying Babylonian urban elites, they are set in rural areas that had exprienced migratory settlement (Aramean tribes, deportees). Hence, these texts document a population known for its ethnic and linguistic diversity. This diversity is reflected in the onomasticon, of which Aramaic names constitute the largest non-Babylonian component. The Aramaic names are recognisable on the basis of linguistic criteria. Moreover, Aramean deities are often invoked in verbal and nominal sentence names. The chapter offers many examples of the various characteristics of Aramean names that are discussed and it also presents tools for identifying Aramaic names in Babylonian texts.

Moving between an analysis of the canon as a critical mechanism and a focus on the physical limits and definition of Latin literature, the chapter reviews the very discourse of the canon and its impact on the field. The ‘canonised’ nature of Classics determines not just a hierarchy of texts and methodologies worthier of being taught and researched but also informs the very approach to non-canonical or ‘para-canonical’ texts. Any canon, in other words, is not just about what we study, it is also about how we study it. Opening up the canon is a dynamic and self-reinforcing process and one which involves both readers who embody difference (social, racial, gender etc.) accessing and studying an expanded and evolving canon, and texts that embody difference (peripheral, post-classical, marginal etc.) being ‘read into’ the canon by an increasingly diverse readership. Interrogating our canon of Latin literature, this chapter argues, implies a fundamental repositioning of one’s scholarly stance not just towards non-canonical texts but also towards canonical authors.

The reason for Alexander’s life and work simply put was conquest and the quest for everlasting glory. He was a young man dead before his thirty-third birthday, the conqueror of the old adversary Persia, having led the most proficient army the world had to this time ever seen to victory after victory. His desire for fame and triumph at the time of his death had not been fulfilled. He had plans for further conquests in Arabia and across the western Mediterranean. Only his death ended his pursuit of these driving forces in his life.

The so-called Alexander Romance is the most widely read text about Alexander from the ancient world. An unknown author composed this fantastical piece of Greek historical fiction, which narrates Alexander’s entire life, deeds, and death in an extraordinary fashion. The three books of inventive prose narrative, embedded with about 280 lines of verse, are bookended by stories of the king’s conception (1.1–14) and funeral (3.34). Here the text is appreciated in its ancient context, with the provision of an overview of its central issues, potential solutions to them, and possible future directions for study. Several significant matters are focused on: the constitution of the original Greek text of the Alexander Romance; its problematic dating; its contents and structure; its various sources; its characterization of Alexander; its generic classification; and the possible contexts for its original composition.

This chapter deals with the main issues bearing upon Clitarchus and his work, moving beyond the usual division between Testimonia and Fragmenta and giving attention to the context and the agenda of each writer that mentioned him. Attention is given to his popularity as an Alexander historian and as a fine writer, as well as to the real significance of the narrative material attributed to him. This evidence can be combined with his few known biographical details in the evaluation of his chronology, which remains uncertain. The last two sections, dealing with his chronology and with the presentation of Alexander in his work, end with a question mark and invite the reader’s own reflections.

This chapter provides an accessible overview of the wide, diverse and ever-expanding field of classical reception studies. It begins with an overview of the word ‘reception’ and its origins in philosophical hermeneutics, and surveys a series of critiques that have been made of the word’s usefulness. Then the chapter makes three claims. First, allusions to antiquity have frequently occurred within a broader matrix of challenge and contestation, and so the critical analysis of classical reception should pay attention to voices that challenge the values accorded to classical literature, as well as those who embrace them. Second, a focus on the history of education can help us see classical allusion as a social challenge rather than simply a submission to prevailing literary or cultural norms. Third, the study of reception is at its most vital as a mode of communication outside classics, whether to the public, to students or to scholars in other fields. Ultimately, reception studies make up a vital part of the future of classical scholarship, and yet questions remain about whether the word ‘reception’ best communicates the subject’s intellectual range and ambition.

The Alexander most visible to us today is one who was created and recreated in the Roman period. While Alexander’s presence in literature is strong enough that we can reasonably describe the trajectory of intellectual interest in Alexander during the Roman period, more difficult to pin down is the degree to which powerful Romans engaged in conscious imitatio or aemulatio Alexandri, which generally involves squaring literary hints with material evidence that does not always speak to us as directly as we would like it to. Without dismissing the world of ways in which various aspects of Alexander-myth may have been subtly exploited by powerful Romans, this paper charts a path between overly credulous and overly sceptical conclusions concerning individual Romans by taking an overview approach of imperial interest and tightening our definitions of ‘imitation’ or ‘emulation’ in the context of Romans and Alexander. I conclude that both imitatio and aemulatio look quite different at Rome than they do in the provincial east.

This chapter offers a perspective on Latin literature from the neighbouring field of Roman history. It discusses what appears to be a growing intellectual divide between the two fields, a divergence that is surprising given the increased focus on the politics of literature among Latinists. The essay also offers some suggestions for bridging the gap.I suggest that Latinists could take a much broader view of the structures of power in which Latin texts were embedded, rather than focusing on the phenomenon of autocracy and high politics, that they might profitably continue to extend their attention to non-literary texts and especially inscriptions, and that they could work harder to speak to historians.

The chapter considers Egyptian personal names recorded in cuneiform Babylonian texts. In first-millennium BCE Babylonia people bearing Egyptian names appear in the Murašû archive and temple ration lists as well as in other (minor) sources, in various capacities. People with Egyptian names were predominantly ethnic Egyptians or at least of Egyptian descent, while on rare occasions non-Egyptians took on an Egyptian name or name element. Identifying Egyptian names in cuneiform texts can be tricky – one reason being that the cuneiform script records vowels while Egyptian scripts generally do not, making name identification more dependent on consonants. Another is that Assyriological and Egyptological transcription methods differ substantially, which makes the process of finding a name parallel in Egyptological literature more difficult for the non-Egyptologist. This chapter gives an overview of common Egyptian names, naming patterns and name elements of the period, and instructions on how to identify Egyptian names in Babylonian texts and how to link these names to Egyptological name collections.