This book examines theomachy, broadly construed, in the Iliad, in Athenian tragedy, in early Roman epic (Aeneid, DRN, Metamorphoses) and in later, first-century Roman literature (Seneca, Lucan, Silius, Statius). Pramit Chaudhuri takes a sophisticated intertextual approach to theomachy in its various manifestations: physical confrontations with gods, philosophical challenges to divinity, imagery of Gigantomachy and so on. The author argues that ‘theomachy symbolizes various conflicts of authority: the poet's attempts to outdo their literary predecessors, the contentions of rival philosophical views, and the violent assertions of power that characterize both autocratic authority and its opposition’ (14). Although he spends a chapter and a half on Greek and Roman drama, C. is mostly concerned with epic, and his conclusions tend to apply most saliently to Silius and Statius. As such, C. powerfully contributes to the scholarly conversation on the literary history of Roman epic, and hence may be situated in the tradition of Denis Feeney's Gods in Epic (1991) and Philip Hardie's Epic Successors of Virgil (1993).

The chapters on Homer, Athenian tragedy, Lucretius, Virgil and Ovid (chs 1–3) provide the background for the account of theomachy in the later, Roman authors. C.’s reading of the Iliad reveals a metapoetic dimension to theomachy: Patroclus, for example, threatens to rewrite the poem in his confrontation with Apollo and attempt to scale the walls of Troy. In Athenian tragedy, on the other hand, the ‘theomach’ (for example, Pentheus in the Bacchae) challenges divinity abstractly by asserting his independence from the gods. Further, if mythical Thebes is a stand-in for historical Athens, theomachy in tragedy may be construed as a dialogue with contemporary politics.

Theomachy in Lucretius (ch. 2) is more abstract. Epicurus' rationality, couched in the language of Gigantomachy, liberates mortals from divine authority. Virgil (also ch. 2), interestingly, avoids theomachy. Diomedes, for example, repudiates his Iliadic attacks on the gods. Other potentially theomachic characters, such as Iarbas and Mezentius, never truly confront the gods. Moreover, their rhetoric is undermined by the divinely controlled narrative. In the Metamorphoses (ch. 3), Ovid further develops philosophical theomachy. Characters such as Lycaon and Niobe strive against the divine through intellectual scepticism. Although the divine prevails in each instance, the language of theomachy reappears in the apotheosis of Caesar and in Ovid's assertion of poetic immortality, thus shifting scepticism from myth to politics.

Seneca's Hercules Furens (ch. 4) combines all the metapoetic, political and philosophical aspects of theomachy seen so far. The play links apotheosis (Juno seeks to prevent Hercules' apotheosis) and theomachy (Hercules believes he is fighting the gods). By comparing this linkage to Seneca's prose works and Suetonius' Life of Caligula, we may see connections with imperial apotheosis. Hercules' theomachy acquires a metaliterary dimension through intertexts with Longinus' examples of theomachy-as-sublimity. Finally, Hercules' ‘theomachy’ may be an allegory for the struggle of the Stoic sage.

Lucan (ch. 5) continues to develop the connection between theomachy and political power. Although the gods are largely absent from BC, mortals like Caesar symbolically fight the gods (for example, Gigantomachy imagery in the sacred grove scene in Book 3). The narrator himself acts as the Ovidian/Senecan philosophical doubter in the anti-divine tirade in Book 7. Lucan also portrays Caesar, his poem's despiser of the gods, as a replacement for the gods (through, for example, thunderbolt imagery). Theomachy becomes a way for Lucan to negotiate the language of the power of the emperors, at once mortal and divine.

Ch. 6 introduces C.’s approach to Silius and Statius. An analysis of the mache parapotamios scenes in Silius (Scipio vs Trebia) and Statius (Hippomedon vs Ismenus) reveals how both authors engage with all the topoi of theomachy, and indeed establish intertexts with one another. (Here C. places chronology in brackets.) Silius' Hannibal (ch. 7) is depicted in the language of philosophical theomachy. He is ultimately thwarted by the gods, who again control the narrative, and by the audience, who know he will fail. However, Hannibal's theomachic assault on the Capitol recalls, C. argues, the burning of the Capitol in a.d. 69, and thus connects theomachy to contemporary politics.

Statius' Capaneus (ch. 8) employs philosophical doubts about the gods but (paradoxically) attempts physical combat with Jupiter. C. understands the paradox as a response to the tradition of Ovidian theomachic scepticism: two different theologies imply two different kinds of epic poetics, which in turn engage with imperial politics. Although Capaneus is killed and his atheism refuted, his perspective nevertheless gains strength through Statius' ambivalent portrayal of his pious rival Amphiaraus and through the diminishing importance of the gods in the poem. Indeed another mortal, Theseus, takes over much of the function of the divine in the sorting out of the narrative and is portrayed in ways that recall Capaneus. The following chapter (ch. 9) examines Capaneus in particular and theomachy in general as metaphors for the discussion of imperial power and divinity. The book's epilogue provides a very brief sketch of the reception of Roman theomachy in later literature.

If read as an analysis of Roman epic, C.’s book offers two important innovations. First, the book examines how a theme in Roman epic may have both self-referential metaliterary aspects and outward-looking political implications. Second, the book reassesses the place of the Aeneid within the Roman epic tradition and accords Virgil an important but diminished rôle in that history. The inclusion of the material from tragedy is useful and hints at the wider possibilities of theomachy as an interpretive lens. C.’s arguments are based on subtle intertextual analyses, and one's tolerance for such analyses determines how persuasive the book is (I found it persuasive). The book is clearly written and well organized. Chapters may be read in isolation, though connections between the different parts of the book are clearly signposted. Overall an excellent contribution to the literature on Roman epic and tragedy.