PART 1: MONOGRAPHS

The interconnectedness of the ancient Mediterranean and Near East is a historical fact, yet the gaps in our knowledge surrounding the when, where and how of contact and transference pose a formidable obstacle to applying that historical fact to literary studies. To investigate the implications of transcultural contact without understanding the terms of engagement might appear to put the cart before the horse. Yet to adhere to the artificial boundary lines between regions and disciplines is not a viable modus operandi.

Classics has increasingly engaged in comparative Graeco–Mesopotamian approaches to ancient ‘epic’, broadly defined as ‘mythological narrative poetry’ (Ballesteros, p. 15). This review seeks to highlight some of the recent advances made in this endeavour to broaden the contexts in which Classics studies the limited evidence surviving from the Archaic period. I will not provide detailed summaries, but will rather focus on illuminating productive avenues for comparative study by highlighting the lines of enquiry pursued, methodological approaches offered and complications exposed by the reviewed works.

BALLESTEROS: DIVINE ASSEMBLIES IN EARLY GREEK AND BABYLONIAN EPIC

Ballesteros’s monograph offers the first large-scale comparison of the divine in early Greek and Mesopotamian narrative epic and the first systematic study of the Babylonian divine assembly. Ballesteros takes the influence-free ‘thematic’ or ‘analogical’ approach, which has gained traction following J. Haubold’s Greece and Mesopotamia (2013), as opposed to the influence-centric ‘historical’ or ‘genealogical’ approach of W. Burkert’s Orientalizing Revolution (1992) and of M.L. West’s East Face of Helicon (1997). Ballesteros’s monograph surveys the epics of ancient Babylon and archaic Greece to demonstrate convincingly how the two traditions employ narrative frameworks that hinge on scenes of divine assembly, which serves as a productive focal point for a comparative study that illuminates not only the epic poems but also their broader polytheistic systems.

In outlining the basis of his study, Ballesteros defines the divine assembly as more than two gods depicted together (p. 8), using the broadest terms possible to avoid ‘forcing variegated evidence into too strictly preconceived patterns’ (p. 14). Acknowledging the convoluted pathways of an item’s development, which can toggle between polygenesis and monogenesis, Ballesteros articulates and deploys a three-pronged comparative approach: first, he identifies and compares the item shared by genetically related traditions, here, the divine assembly; second, he investigates whether closer parallels occur within the work or tradition postulated to be receiving the item, here, the Greek epic tradition; and third, he broadens the comparative spectrum to look for recurrences of the item in genetically unrelated traditions.

Ballesteros’s book thus offers a model that can facilitate comparative study at the level of poetics in a way that goes beyond questions of influence to consider the nuanced function of common items. Ballesteros rightly asserts that arguments positing that certain parallels indicate influence or reception ultimately rely on probabilities rather than proof (pp. 3, 169, 180, 366). Even so, while his comparative study does not depend on precise reconstructions of the given item’s historical origins and evolution, the interpretations it yields are informed by what is known about the historical realities of transmission between and the compositional processes of the relevant traditions. In other words, an ‘influence-free’ approach focusing on poetic technique guides Ballesteros’s ambitious project, which nevertheless seeks to address the issue of contact, thereby marrying two traditionally distinct approaches with comparative research.

Part 1 (Chapters 1–5) compares the poetic technique of the epic traditions and concludes by relating this discussion to the historical question of transmission. Part 2 (Chapters 6–11) focuses on the thematic comparison of divine assemblies, analysing the divine systems of the epics in dialogue with historical religious and socio-political ideas and structures. Throughout the book Ballesteros provides translations of the Greek and transliterated Akkadian in extended quotations, with normalised Akkadian used for in-text quotations. The project demonstrates a laudable sensitivity to accessibility, which is crucial given that the majority of readers will lack familiarity with at least one of the languages and literatures. The introduction provides an updated account of the developments of Graeco–Mesopotamian studies in Classics and cogently articulates the methodological challenges that the opaque complexity of the two regions’ historical contact poses to comparatists. To accommodate a non-specialist readership, Chapter 1 provides detailed overviews of the main texts studied in the book, covering the manuscript tradition and preservation state of the cuneiform evidence as well as plot summaries for both traditions.

Ballesteros enters the argument proper in Chapter 2. This chapter demonstrates how Greek and Mesopotamian poems rely on a cohesive system of similarly constructed divine assemblies that functions to structure the epic narratives of both traditions, which, as Ballesteros emphasises, conceive of poetry as directed towards performance, that is, an aural reception. Chapters 3–4 compare the motifs and morphologies of divine assemblies to assess their respective narrative functions, leading Ballesteros to articulate a new typology that illustrates how the poems exhibit a ‘conventional correspondence between pattern and effect’ that ‘must be the product of the tradition’ (p. 151). From a methodological perspective, it would have been instructive to see Ballesteros apply the typology he delineates in Chapter 4 to the study in the following chapters, but this does not detract from his argument.

Whether the traditions at the backdrop of these poems are historically related is the subject of Chapter 5, which broadens the scope of comparison to genetically unrelated traditions featuring divine assemblies. This chapter demonstrates how the divine assembly in Greek epic most closely parallels scenes of human assembly within the same tradition and observes that parallels to the divine assembly have arisen independently in genetically unrelated traditions that feature polytheism. Thus, Ballesteros concludes that the Greek divine assembly is probably not a wholesale borrowing from the Near East, resulting from direct engagement with extant Mesopotamian texts. Nevertheless, he points to the demonstrated structural similarities between the traditions, the spread of the pattern in Hurro-Hittite, Ugaritic and first-millennium Levantine sources and the established historical contact between the regions to argue that the divine assemblies of Greek epic must be considered within a broader literary context, ‘as part of Near Eastern-Mediterranean literary koine’ (p. 367). Ballesteros, in accepting that the similarities examined indicate long-term contact, attributes these to specialist performers.

Having established in Part 1 a comparative framework that does not depend on influence but acknowledges historical transmission in broader strokes, Ballesteros moves on in Part 2 to conduct a large-scale comparison of the divine in Babylonian and early Greek epic. Chapters 6–7 examine human–divine relations through the intersection of conflict and harmony and the lens of distance and proximity of men with the gods. These chapters demonstrate how both traditions converge in defining the human condition as contingent on human suffering, which separates gods from men, even as the traditions connect gods to men through the divine assembly’s promotion of human culture.

Beyond contributing to our understanding of the epics at the level of interpretation, these chapters also illuminate a significant methodological complication. The cuneiform corpus is highly fragmentary, and scholars are accustomed to supplement lacunae with evidence from other sources. For instance, in Chapter 7 Ballesteros follows A.R. George (The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic [2003], p. 478) in noting that the Hittite version of Gilgamesh provides an account of the divine assembly decreeing Enkidu’s death where the Standard Babylonian version is fragmented. Ballesteros offers an interpretation of the assembly based on the ‘admittedly heavy’ emendation supplied from the Hittite prose abridgement (p. 222). Ballesteros’s argument is concerned with matters of narratology, a framework in which interpretation depends on content just as much as it does on the presentation of that content. This is not to find fault with Ballesteros’s reading of Gilgamesh, but rather to point out that certain traditional methods of emendation fall short for the kind of close readings that Ballesteros explores in this chapter, which are ultimately narratological, as he notes in passing (pp. 218, 220, 226; cf. pp. 181, 314, 370), although he does not outline the theoretical framework of narratology as an explicit basis for the study.

The remaining chapters shift to examine intra-divine relations, paying particular attention to the heads of each divine pantheon, Zeus and Enlil: Chapter 8 studies dynamics of divine power in epic narratives of the Chaoskampf type; Chapter 9 analyses divine rulership by examining instances of internecine divine conflict over humanity; Chapter 10 considers challenges to divine authority in the assembly; and Chapter 11 correlates the observed patterns of divine power dynamics to historical views of kingship and rule in Mesopotamia and Homeric Greece. Ultimately, Ballesteros perceives diverging depictions of divine sovereignty: the Greek tradition is governed by a relational and therefore unstable system of honour (timai) that succeeds only through the extraordinary person of Zeus, whereas Babylonian kingship is characterised by ontological fixity, conceived as a stable office distinct from the person of the ruler, who is in perpetual need of correction. The culturally specific conceptions of the divine assembly put emphasis on the advisory role of the god Ea, who moderates Enlil’s power, as the Babylonian cultural ideal and on the divine sovereign as the Greek cultural ideal, with king and advisor collapsing into the single person of mētieta, ‘counsellor’, Zeus, under whose management the cosmos thrives.

Overall, Ballesteros’s study offers many valuable contributions at both the micro- and the macro-levels. The organisation of the book, which ultimately aims at a holistic perspective on the literary tradition, at times delays Ballesteros from following a train of thought to the end, but I do not view this as a weakness. Ballesteros consistently provides ample signposting to assure readers that further analysis is coming and, moreover, compels readers through this organisational strategy to engage rigorously in the act of comparison rather than to extract chapters based on selective interest in individual works.

Ultimately, Ballesteros’s book both deeply enriches and makes the reader hungry for more. Ballesteros’s holistic perspective inevitably limits the space for close analysis; the study takes into account an impressively vast body of primary material, requiring him to summarise and paraphrase much of the primary evidence. Thus, the book leaves the door open for comparative studies that can further nuance his compelling claims, complementing this broader survey by foregrounding the close analysis of a narrower body of evidence. Indeed, Ballesteros explicitly points to a number of potentially productive avenues of investigation (cf. pp. 160, 170 n. 70), noting the particular need for detailed comparative studies on poetic texture. Through this study and the comparative approach articulated, honed and deployed in it, Ballesteros has both blazed a trail and left it paved for others to follow.

MYERSTON: LANGUAGE AND COSMOS IN GREECE AND MESOPOTAMIA

Myerston’s monograph traces the putative trajectory of an idea from Mesopotamia to Greece, specifically a theory of language that views etymologising as a means to decode divine realities. In the introduction Myerston surveys past scholarship for models of historical transmission to set up the basis for his comparative approach, which contends that the extant evidence for historical contact between Mesopotamia and Greece provides sufficient grounds to assume that complex intellectual exchange took place, even if the specific pathways of exchange lie beyond recovery and thus beyond exact reconstruction. This approach governs the structure of the book, with Chapters 1–2 focusing on the Akkadian evidence that serves to contextualise in broad strokes the Greek texts Myerston studies in Chapters 3–4. Throughout the book Myerston employs the same conventions as Ballesteros to make the Akkadian and Greek material accessible to non-specialists.

Chapter 1 aims to provide a sketch of some of the intellectual movements that existed in Mesopotamia. To this end, Myerston offers a non-exhaustive survey of Mesopotamian approaches for conceptualising language, examining a wide range of texts including lexical and grammatical lists, a school syllabary and epic poems. Thus, Myerston illustrates the diversity of Mesopotamian approaches and parses two main hermeneutic techniques: first, the semiotics of the diviner, who deciphers worldly signs for divine realities; and, second, the speech act theory of the exorcist, who uses the transformative power of speech to establish the meanings of names, thereby altering the ontological foundations of the cosmos.

In Chapter 2 Myerston focuses on the Babylonian cosmogonic poem, Enuma elish, as a case study for how this broader intellectual context, specifically the speech act theory of the exorcist, can inform the understanding of the poem’s enquiry into the origin of language. Examining the poem through this lens exposes a sequence of events, consisting of an entity’s conception, naming and etymologising of the name, that becomes reversed by the end of the poem, where the catalogue of the newly ascended Marduk’s names introduces a new model in which entities can come into existence only after they are named. As Myerston demonstrates, this shift highlights a stark contrast: the end of the poem exhibits the systematic etymologisation, or explicit explanations, of Marduk’s names while it earlier features more nebulous wordplay, or unmarked punning, surrounding the primordial Tiamtu.

Chapter 3 shifts to the Greek evidence to apply this distinction between etymology and wordplay to Hesiod’s Theogony, which exhibits a skewed distribution of etymologies that cluster around the first part of the Succession Myth, most notably concerning Aphrodite. Examining two Babylonian hymns mentioning Ishtar, the goddess of sexuality, Myerston argues that Hesiod’s treatment of Aphrodite is a case of ‘relocation’, a form of adaptation appropriating cultural goods, whether material or non-material, in a way that is conditioned by the receiving work’s socio-cultural context. To substantiate this claim, Myerston posits ‘some sort of intertextual relation’ between Hesiod’s Theogony and the Middle Babylonian Hymn to the Queen of Nippur, citing C. Metcalf (The Gods Rich in Praise [2015], pp. 171–90), who, however, does not use the term ‘intertextual’ and, moreover, observes that certain elements of the Theogony’s treatment of Aphrodite ‘could suggest that Hesiod is working at some considerable remove from any Near Eastern sources’ (p. 190).

Although arguing for a case of intertextual influence and the Greek domestication of the Babylonian etymological tradition poses difficulties, Myerston’s examination of Hesiod’s engagement with the etymological theory underlying the Babylonian hymn yields a compelling hypothesis, namely that, in direct contrast to Enuma elish, wordplay in the Theogony emerges as the ‘right tool of interpreting the emerging ambiguity of language’ (p. 95) as the cosmos takes shape under Zeus’s auspices. This claim could be further bolstered by explicitly connecting it with the discussion of the Theogony’s poetic framework earlier in the chapter, where Myerston examines how the poem’s self-presentation in the proem alludes to a complicated multi-step process of communication, mediated first by the Muses, who translate divine speech, ossa, into human speech, audē, and second by the poet, who translates the Muses’ audē into song, aoidē.

In Chapter 4 Myerston turns to the Derveni papyrus, contending that its concept of a polyonymous cosmic god indicates Near Eastern influence. In Myerston’s assessment the Derveni author exhibits a monistic view of the divine, using etymology to reduce the gods of the Greek pantheon to a single divine principle, Air-Nous. Myerston argues that the Derveni papyrus, which operated at the fringes of Greek culture, appropriates the Near Eastern hermeneutic approach employed in Enuma elish, the hymns to Ninurta and Marduk and the Marduk Theology, demonstrating how ‘exotica can increase symbolic capital and construct authority’ (p. 122).

Overall, Myerston’s close analyses are compelling, but some of his attempts to draw holistic theories from limited evidence require further substantiation. For example, in Chapter 3 Myerston claims that the tendency of Hesiod to etymologise based on cultural rather than narrative concerns extends to the Homeric tradition. Myerston’s analysis is limited to a single Odyssean passage, a passage from the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite and a survey of the Homeric Hymn to Demeter’s treatment of Demeter and Hades. It would have been edifying to see Myerston analyse in depth the two noted exceptions to his etymologising theory or flesh out his hypothesis that the exceptions are outliers reflecting the different etymologising trends of the putatively later dates of the relevant hymns (p. 104). In addition, in arguing that ‘respect towards the divine name is expressed in Homer on multiple occasions’ (p. 101), Myerston points to the fear of Odysseus’ name as a common trope, leading him to conclude: ‘If Odysseus’ name can inspire respect so must also the names of the gods’ (p. 101 n. 69). Yet this is in tension with his theory that Homeric conventions suggest that etymologising is appropriate for the names of heroes but not for divine names (p. 103). A cohesive theory of cosmogonically significant etymologising across archaic Greek epic is further complicated by nuanced cosmic conceptions; the divergent depictions of the Cyclopes, whose nominal category is etymologised in Hesiod but not in Homer, illustrate how Hesiod and Homer do not depict a perfectly cohesive cosmic order.

In a similar vein, Myerston convincingly draws parallels between the Derveni papyrus and Mesopotamian hermeneutics in close analyses in Chapter 4, but he makes a broader claim that is attractive yet eludes conclusive verification, namely that the Derveni author intentionally appropriates the Near Eastern hermeneutic approach (p. 138). Substantiating this claim would require demonstrating more rigorously that the Derveni papyrus’ technique diverges from Greek hermeneutic approaches and finds no closer parallel within the Greek tradition. More attention to how the Derveni papyrus’ immediate context conditions its putative appropriation of Mesopotamian hermeneutics would also help nuance the claim.

These criticisms are not meant to give a negative impression; one of the greatest strengths of Myerston’s innovative and engaging book is that it successfully opens new lines of enquiry. The lenses Myerston uses for close analysis can and should be applied even more widely to engage with the broader claims he has posited and to further advance the fascinating conversation about trans-cultural intellectual exchange. Overall, Myerston’s book not only contributes to the understanding of ancient theories of language but also demonstrates the productive potential of putting the literary traditions of Greece and Babylon in dialogue.

PART 2: EDITED VOLUMES

This review thus far has focused on archaic Greek epic in its broader regional context. Although the two edited volumes include comparative pieces, the volumes extend far beyond this subfield. This review cannot treat each individual contribution in detail, but will maintain its focus on the broader contexts of archaic Greek epic. I will consider the approaches employed by the comparative pieces featured before commenting on how the trending interest in Graeco–Mesopotamian studies contributes to the holistic aim of the respective volumes and to methodological developments in Classics more broadly. In endeavouring to tie together the common threads among the diverse topics and approaches featured in the volumes, I will not examine the contributions in the order in which they appear in each volume.

TSAGALIS (ED.): ’HERACLES IN EARLY GREEK EPIC

The contributions in the volume edited by Tsagalis originate from an international conference held at the Aristotle University of Thessaloniki in 2022. The book does not aim to provide an overview of the topic, but rather offers in-depth treatments of Heracles within the genre of epic, spanning the seventh to the fifth centuries bce. The volume comprises ten discrete literary studies, which are organised under three headings: ‘Sources and Intertexts for Early Greek Epic on Heracles’, ‘Heracles in Homer and Hesiod’ and ‘Heracles in Fragmentary Greek Epic’.

Part 1, ‘Sources and Intertexts’, opens with B. Currie’s ‘Heracles and Gilgamesh in Early Greek Epic’, which diverges significantly from the other comparative methods addressed earlier. Currie takes a similar approach to that of his 2016 monograph, Homer’s Allusive Art, to make a case for the reception of Gilgamesh in early Greek epic poetry on Heracles. In particular, Currie sees in the quests for Geryoneus’ cattle, Cerberus and the Apples of the Hesperides not a similarity in typology, but rather the reception of different elements from the tenth tablet of the Standard Babylonian Epic of Gilgamesh, which describes Gilgamesh’s journey to Utnapishtim, the legendary survivor of the Flood. Currie does not attempt to reconstruct potential paths of transmission (p. 52), but acknowledges that this theory ‘trades on unknowns: that Gilgamizing Heracles epic poetry anteceded the Homeric poems … and that the Babylonian Gilgamesh (in some language and medium) was known to the poet(s) of the Iliad and Odyssey and to their (ideal) audiences’ (p. 50).

This case for reception ultimately rests on cumulative evidence, which can only indicate probability rather than incontrovertible proof of influence. Nevertheless, Currie argues that ‘early Greek Heracles poetry/mythology gave a Gilgamizing interpretation of a mythological complex that was already established in Greek tradition’ (p. 16). Criticising M.L. West’s theory that a non-extant pre-Homeric Heracles is the link between Homer and Gilgamesh, Currie instead leaves the argument open to multiple undefined paths of transmission. This approach raises a significant question. Currie surveys evidence from a wide span of Greek fragments and from the Old, Middle and Standard Babylonian versions of Gilgamesh, which deviate significantly from each other. Just as there is no single tradition of the Heracles myth, so too is this the case for Gilgamesh. What, then, does it mean to ‘Gilgamize’? Is it the case that, on the one hand, all versions of the Heracles myth indicate Gilgamizing, and, on the other hand, all versions of Gilgamesh were equally influential in the Gilgamizing movement(s)?

Currie’s study also raises an important methodological question, which has to do with defining what is considered as ‘sufficiently striking and significant’ or ‘marked’ and ‘meaningful’ (p. 43). Currie contends that the ‘most striking correspondence’ between Gilgamesh and Heracles is the improvised use of the hero’s garment as a sail, yet the Akkadian evidence examined is so unemphatic about this achievement that Currie’s interpretation is, as he admits (p. 19), not mainstream. Most scholars interpret the garment as belonging to Urshanabi, the boatman, rather than to Gilgamesh, following the reading that is more clearly supported by the linguistic evidence. In this case, establishing a parallel imposes a hierarchy of influence without opening a mutually illuminating dialogue; for the significance of the motif, if it is present, is grossly imbalanced. The question of what constitutes a ‘marked’ similarity is also relevant for substantiating Currie’s interpretation of certain ‘Gilgamizing’ moments as indicative of ‘opposition in imitation’ (pp. 39, 51). This interpretation would draw the Greek tradition into the kind of intertextual competition that has, outside of Currie’s work, thus far been considered primarily within the isolated traditions of the Mediterranean and of Mesopotamia, respectively (cf. S. Wisnom, Weapons of Words [2019]).

Ultimately, Currie’s article is a bold leap that explores the limits of what is conceivable to overcome scepticism-induced petrification in approaching Graeco–Mesopotamian literary studies. Even if one feels unable to take that leap, Currie’s contribution is undeniably valuable for challenging the field to re-examine what constitutes a compelling parallel, beyond the obviously common item, and to refine its comparative methodologies accordingly.

Although Currie’s contribution is the only one in the volume look at archaic Greek epic in its broader regional context, all the contributions consider the ‘broader contexts’ of extant archaic Greek epic insofar as they shed insight on parts of the epic tradition that have not survived intact. Thus, the volume broadens the contexts of study to include what lies at the periphery or beyond the extant canon.

R. Scodel in Part 1, ‘Sources and Intertexts’, and S. Bär and H. Eisenfeld in Part 2, ‘Homer and Hesiod’, confront the methodological question of whether later sources can be used to supplement or reconstruct the mythical material of elliptical narratives within Homer and of fragmentary or non-extant epic traditions. As Scodel rightly observes ‘it is often impossible confidently to decide that material in later versions is independent of Homeric epic or is an attempt at glossing it’ (p. 77). Although questions of influence and engagement are often unanswerable, Scodel’s strategy provides a constructive counterpoint to Currie’s contribution by offering a productive way to navigate some of the unknowns posed by fragmentary sources, whether Greek or non-Greek. Focusing on the Iliadic allusions to Heracles on Cos, Scodel surveys a range of evidence, including the Hesiodic Ehoeae, the Mythographus Homericus and the Meropis to argue that, while the vagueness of the Iliad suggests the poet’s awareness of other mythic variants, ‘a performer or poet’s choice among variants depended less on their origins than on the requirements of the context’ (p. 82). Her study exhibits a twofold approach: first, she identifies common denominators between the narrative variants in the broader poetic tradition in order to isolate the constants of the myth from the variables; second, she investigates how the narrative variants are shaped by the respective needs of the immediate context in order to assess each narrative’s peculiar manipulation of the variables.

Bär, with appropriate caution, points to the fifth-century bce mythographer Hellanicus and to two vases dated to the sixth century bce to consider, though not to impose, the impact that the presence of the absent Hesione would have on the Heracles episodes mentioned in Iliad 5 and 20. Eisenfeld refers to an Iliadic scholium paraphrasing Hellanicus to argue that the passage mentioning Heracles’ wall in Iliad 20 functions as an analepsis that complicates Heracles’ heroic relevance by destabilising the epic past and can only be fully appreciated within its reconstructed wider matrix, the Trojan fabula surrounding Laomedon.

Other contributions in the volume take diachronic approaches to broaden the contexts of study by tracing developments in the epic tradition. Rather than taking Homer or Hesiod as a starting point, these contributions instead consider how later sources engage with and offer productive vantage points to consider early Greek epic. In Part 1, ‘Sources and Intertexts’, S. Mills demonstrates how the moralised and moralising Heracles familiar to us from the classical period to the Renaissance and beyond has a precedent in archaic Greek epic, particularly in the Hesiodic Shield of Heracles and Panyassis. Tsagalis and L. Lulli in Part 3, ‘Fragmentary Greek Epic’, both take Aristotle’s Poetics as their starting point to identify useful lenses through which to view fragmentary early Greek epic. Tsagalis compares the narrative style of the epics by Creophylus, Pisander and Panyassis to consider how each poet responds to his immediate predecessor and how the three poems reflect Aristotle’s distinction between Homeric and Cyclic epic. Examining the insights offered on fragmentary epic by ancient critics, scholiasts and commentators, Lulli illuminates the epichoric dimension and aetiological function of the Heracles myth in archaic and classical epic poetry and the eulogistic function that the myth develops in Hellenistic poetry.

While this volume does not present a holistic view of Heracles in early Greek epic, each chapter offers a significant individual contribution to the knowledge of the subject and also makes methodological advancements to meet the needs of a field that is increasingly engaging with ellipses and lacunae of various kinds.

GREENSMITH (ED.): THE CAMBRIDGE COMPANION TO ANCIENT GREEK EPIC

As intimated by the title of Greensmith’s introduction, ‘(Pushing) The Limits of Epic’, The Cambridge Companion to Ancient Greek Epic aims to embody the ‘more capacious approach to Greek epic across time [that] is beginning to take hold’ (p. 4). The primary aims of the volume as delineated by Greensmith are twofold: first, to offer a thematic account of Greek epic and, second, to approach Greek epic synchronically by considering the interconnectedness of epic with other ancient genres and traditions and by extending the temporal scope of study from the ‘conventional canon of Greek hexameter poets’ to imperial Greek and late antique epic as well as to modern adaptations (p. 6).

In contrast to the strategy commonly employed by ‘Companions’ that organises chapters primarily around a specific author and work or time period (cf. J.M. Foley [ed.], A Companion to Ancient Epic [2005]), this volume is divided thematically into six major parts covering epic interconnectedness, space, time, society, emotions and reception. The volume’s thematic organisation, which fulfils its first aim, accommodates a significant number of diachronic studies alongside the synchronic approaches that reflect the volume’s second aim. Methodologically, the volume aims to focus on close readings (p. 6), with the material scope of the volume intentionally limited to favour textual over visual or archaeological studies (p. 7).

The volume could be taken as proof that it is impossible to talk about Greek epic without mentioning Homer, who is featured in every single contribution. As Greensmith rightly asserts, the self-reflexive engagement with epic as a tradition is a hallmark of the genre (p. 6 n. 23). Honouring the focus of this review, I will highlight select pieces that both study archaic Greek epic and aim to broaden the contexts in which it is studied.

The diversity of approaches featured in the volume is impressive. The Companion makes a bold statement by opening with Ballesteros’s ‘Greek and Near Eastern Epic’: ‘Long confined to the fringes of the discipline, the connection between Greek and Near Eastern epic is now at the forefront of classical scholarship’ (p. 17). After outlining the differences in the material conditions and histories of composition, performance and reception between the Greek and the Mesopotamian traditions, Ballesteros demonstrates how ‘shared taxonomies’ between the two traditions can offer productive grounds for comparative study, particularly by situating parallels against a broader background. Following the comparative approach taken in his monograph, this piece focuses on cosmic divides within a shared Graeco–Mesopotamian taxonomy of mythic chronology, despite certain nuanced distinctions between the traditions, to argue for the potential compatibility of contextually grounded and thematically oriented comparisons.

The other two contributions in Part 1, ‘Epic Engagements’, offer a different way to contextualise archaic Greek epic more broadly, namely by considering its interconnectedness with other genres in the Greek literary tradition. H. Spelman examines how the dynamic between lyric’s self-conscious self-reflexivity and its use of epic as a point of reference can illuminate what the two genres meant to ancient audiences. E. Kneebone, in surveying the didactic tradition from the third century bce to the third century ce, highlights features of the Homeric epics with which didactic engages, notably Homer’s authorising strategies and technical content. Although B. Verhelst’s contribution appears in Part 2, ‘Epic Space’, it overlaps significantly with the approaches of Part 1. Addressing the controversy around the term ‘genre’ when applied to epyllion, Verhelst demonstrates how epyllion interacts with the ‘smaller’ characters of Homeric epic to offer a different perspective on the grand heroism of epic through what can be understood as inter-generic engagement.

Another way in which the Companion situates archaic Greek epic within broader contexts is by taking diachronic approaches to view Homer. The volume’s diachronic studies span its diverse thematic categories: in Part 2, ‘Epic Space’, K. Sekita surveys the space of the Underworld, focusing on katabasis narratives; in Part 3, ‘Epic Time’, S. Goldhill articulates how three temporal models, the foundational, the narratological and the poetic, inform the epic tradition from Homer to Eudocia; in Part 4, ‘Epic People’, R. Gagné studies ‘the ritual archive’ of Greek epic by demonstrating how the language of epic sacrifice, rooted in Homer, generates ritual community; and in Part 5, ‘Epic Feelings’, M. Hosty evaluates the comic potential of epic.

Finally, the reception studies featured in the Companion strive to engage ancient Greek epic and modern works of reception in a bilateral dialogue guiding readers to view antiquity through the eyes of later audiences from across the globe. Although included properly in Part 4, ‘Epic People’, the contributions by J. Murray and E. Hauser touch on Homeric reception and grapple with the challenge of applying modern lenses to ancient works. Murray develops a transhistorical concept of racemaking and racecraft to examine dehumanising acts of heroic violence in Homer and Apollonius. Hauser argues that the modern concept of gender can be used productively to open new lines of investigation into Homeric epic, despite the anachronism of the category.

Part 6, ‘Epic Without End’, is dedicated to reception studies, with a particular focus on areas of reception that have received relatively less scholarly attention. M.M. Winkler studies Homeric archetypes in film, focusing on Hollywood Westerns. J. Hanink examines how nationalist narratives of modern Greece and Turkey engaged with Homeric translations. Approaching modern Greece from a deeply personal angle, P. Christoforou’s epilogue is a poignant reflection on the performativity of identity and the complicated relationships that modern Greece has with classical antiquity or rather, as Christoforou aptly specifies, the image of classical antiquity.

This review offers only a small taste of the thought-provoking and diverse approaches that the Companion has to offer. Its wealth of contributions not only affords an updated view of the state of literary studies on ancient epic in Classics, but also poses new lines of enquiry to pursue and raises new challenges to confront. Overall, the Companion embodies the trend in Classics to expand and diversify the contexts, broadly conceived, in which antiquity is studied.

Ultimately, the books featured in this review are united in this ambition, which aims, as Greensmith eloquently puts it, to engage the modern mind in ‘reading epic – more broadly, more adventurously, and again’ (p. 13).