This volume in the series Bloomsbury Companions to Greek and Roman Tragedy, which publishes student introductions to ancient dramas, is structured in five chapters. The first two discuss the setting, action and plot and the characters and chorus. The next two present main themes of the play, ethnicity and gender, ritual and the gods. The last one offers an overview of the rich reception of the themes discussed in the previous chapters, from the first to the twenty-first century ce. The volume closes with a helpful glossary of Greek and technical terms, a guide to further reading, selected chronology, a comprehensive bibliography and an index. No Greek quotations are included, according to the series guidelines, and all Greek terms are transliterated and explained in the text and the glossary.

There is little that a student or beginner would miss in the book, which may also provide a handy overview of issues and bibliography to more advanced students and to scholars. In a relatively short space T. has done good work. She presents the play in a rounded and accessible manner and incorporates the results of recent scholarly discussions. She sides with critics who have argued against descriptions of the play as ‘tragicomedy’, ‘melodrama’ and similar and suggests that it is a proper tragedy in the full sense of the ancient term (pp. 27–8). Her discussion of the characters and the chorus and of major themes such as ethnicity and gender as well as the ambivalent and ultimately inscrutable role of the gods is comprehensive and informative. The big picture is satisfying, but a closer look reveals some inaccuracies, and several points are made without indication of their speculative nature. Similarly, scholarship that is also speculative or not sufficiently corroborated by the text or other sources is cited as evidence or corroboration of T.'s claims. In a short introductory book extensive discussions are out of the question, and the intended audience would be overwhelmed by or uninterested in them. However, scrupulousness does not necessarily require long discussions, and T. reproduces some views that have been revised or devotes some space to peripheral (and speculative) issues. A few examples will suffice to illustrate her practice.

The Taurian temple of Artemis, in front of which the play is set, is not situated on a raised outcrop of rock, and the passage quoted as evidence (1429–30) has nothing to do with the location of the temple. It is also unlikely that all or any of the features mentioned in its description were represented on the stage-building (p. 7). The issue of the temple door-knocker is superfluous, and certainly the presumed absence of a door-knocker does not indicate an inhospitable setting (p. 8). It is obvious from the text, and recent commentators on the play (e.g. M. Cropp [2000], P. Kyriakou [2006], L. Parker [2016]; cf. O. Taplin, The Stagecraft of Aeschylus [1977], pp. 450–1) agree, that one side-entrance does not lead to the Taurian city and another to the coast, where Orestes and Pylades have hidden their ship, as the procession crosses the city to reach the mooring spot.

The letter of Iphigenia to her brother (13–14) and her dream recounted in the prologue (52–3) are justifiably discussed in some detail. The former is a highly original recognition token, and the latter contains an intriguing and ambiguous prediction that is misinterpreted by Iphigenia but is connected with the theme of prophecy and divine assistance to mortals that informs the play. The metatheatrical interpretation of the letter, especially the comparison with Phaedra's letter in Hippolytus, is unhelpful. T. suggests that the literate Phaedra is entirely in control of her ‘script’ and successful in destroying Hippolytus, but the illiterate Iphigenia fails to bring about her return to Argos. Phaedra's aim, though, is double, to avoid disrepute for herself and her family and to destroy Hippolytus, but with the revelation of the truth at the end her first objective fails, and she becomes joined to Hippolytus forever in the cult of brides (cf. M. Cyrino, Sex in Antiquity [2015], p. 240). Iphigenia's letter too is partly successful, and although the gods do not allow the fulfilment of her dream of nostos, she is credited with the masterly escape plan.

Salvation at first seems to be jeopardised by Iphigenia's mistaken interpretation of her dream, which is important from several respects. It highlights Iphigenia's emotions, creates suspense and shows clearly the limitations of mortals, even those such as Iphigeneia, a priestess and a highly intelligent woman, in interpreting divine signs and especially in realising these limitations. However, there is no indication that Iphigenia purified Orestes at the shore, by sprinkling him with seawater, as C. Trieschnigg (CQ 58 [2008], 461–78) suggests, or in any other manner, and thus that the dream came true at the end in this way. Orestes’ purification is not an issue or a necessity in the play, and it is fake and probably not enacted (cf. e.g. F. Meinel, Pollution and Crisis in Greek Tragedy [2015], p. 168). Apart from that, the dream apparently predicted or showed a weeping Iphigenia consecrating Orestes for death. None of these elements comes true, even if purification at the seashore takes place; so the dream cannot come true in its entirety. It turns out to be misleading or part of a divine plan that had to modified, like Apollo's plan in Ion.

A ritual is also invoked in the explanation of the washing of the cattle with seawater (p. 46), with no support in the text or any literature, ancient or modern, and the Taurians are not presented as a pastoral community of cattle-herders (p. 59). They certainly raise cattle but also practise purple-fishing, for instance. The chorus do not regret that they are unmarried and childless (pp. 48–9), nor did Atreus and Thyestes quarrel over the golden fleece of the lamb (p. 51). There is no implication that Agamemnon could have spared Iphigenia by disbanding the army (p. 93). In other versions of the story, for example in Aeschylus’ Agamemnon, this was most probably the case, but in Iphigenia among the Taurians the sacrifice would have to take place because of Agamemnon's vow, not only for the sake of the expedition. It could conceivably be postponed but not annulled.

The discussion of the undermining of ethnic stereotypes, which is a major theme, is somewhat overzealous in the suggestions that the presence of archers on the ship of Orestes (pp. 60–1) and the possibility that Iphigenia could not swim (pp. 75–6) associate Greeks with barbarians. The play also foregrounds gender issues, through Iphigenia's protagonistic role and her priestly capacity and especially the collaboration of a male and female sibling in the restoration of their benighted house. However, the play does not emphasise motherhood and childbirth as women's contribution to society (p. 73), at least no more than other plays with female protagonists, and the issue is certainly no ‘correction’ of Aeschylus’ Eumenides and Apollo's argument to the effect that only the father is a true parent. Last but not least, at the end of the discussion of the play, and despite her agreement with the view that gods are brutal and certainly inscrutable, T. cites the conclusion of the messenger speech concerning Poseidon's role in the storm as a fact (p. 97). The messenger, though, makes an assumption, which is not particularly plausible per se, and is certainly no more authoritative than the view of Iphigenia, who believes that Artemis is angry with the Greeks (cf. J. Clarke Kosak, A Companion to Euripides [2017], pp. 224–5).

These problems do not detract from the usefulness of the book as a very good starting point for the study of the play.