This book ‘distantly’ (p. x) based on C.'s Yale dissertation, promises an in-depth study of theomachy in classical literature with particular focus on Roman, especially Flavian, poetry. In this it does not fail to deliver. Whilst it is not an exhaustive study, C.'s monograph offers a rich and insightful overview of the subject, and seeks to show that theomachy concerns more than a war with god(s) – it challenges the very limits of human experience.
The book consists of nine chapters, which C. describes as falling roughly into three parts (p. 5). The first (Chapters 1–3) deals with theomachy in the Greek poetic tradition and its transition to Augustan poetry, whilst the second (Chapters 4–5) and third (Chapters 6–8) deal with theomachy in Neronian and Flavian literature respectively. Chapter 9, focusing on the political implications of theomachy, serves, in part, as an overview of the preceding material by sampling texts from a variety of Roman sources. A detailed epilogue offers scope for further study with observations on theomachy in European Renaissance literature.
From the outset, C. states his intent to move beyond traditional views of theomachy which have interpreted its literary representations (p. ix) ‘in a didactic vein, with the punishment of the rebels seen as a warning against arrogance and transgression and as an exhortation to religious piety’. Instead he proposes to focus on theomachy's broader significance, which he sees as representing ‘moments of critical tension when many of society's norms – not only religious, but also philosophical, political, and aesthetic norms – become the subject of negotiation’ (p. x). In seeking to trace the development of theomachy throughout such a broad swath of literature, C. inevitably leaves out texts that some readers would prefer to see referenced in greater detail. By his own admission this choice is a ‘compromise’ (p. x), and whilst C. is meticulously careful in justifying his decisions with regard to which texts are excluded/included, some of the omissions remain striking, notably Valerius Flaccus' Argonautica, which is sidelined to several (brief) footnotes. Admittedly C. states, with some justification, that ‘the voyage myths – the Odyssey and the Argonautic tradition – receive very selective discussion since they engage theomachy far more infrequently and indirectly than their martial counterparts’ (pp. 5–6). Yet the almost complete omission of Valerius Flaccus' epic remains striking given the obvious importance that C. attaches to Flavian epic in his study (pp. 195–297). This is not to suggest that C. should have included a chapter on Valerius' epic – I believe that he is correct in asserting that the Argonautic tradition can offer little to his topic – but a more detailed discussion would have been helpful, particularly with regard to the association between the gods (notably Jupiter) and the emperors, a topic that is of clear interest to C., especially in Chapter 9.
Aside from this (minor) concern, however, C. handles the extensive amount of material at his disposal with scholarly aplomb. Whilst a natural by-product of such a broad study is the inability to focus on any one text in real depth, C. carefully avoids any sense of ‘short-changing’ his reader by offering insightful observations on select episodes, with succinct, yet rich, footnotes offering avenues for further study. Aware too that many readers will select only a few chapters for perusal at any given point, C. is careful to return to certain central ideas, whilst avoiding over-repetition. In particular the figure of Capaneus, who is something of an exemplary ‘theomach’ in C.'s eyes, is alluded to again and again and serves as a point of connection between many of the chapters and their central conceits.
Chapter 1, ‘Theomachy in Greek Epic and Tragedy’, focuses on the representation of theomachy in the Iliad and Attic tragedy and how this serves as a backdrop to its presence in Roman (imperial) poetry. Sensibly C. focuses on several key episodes – or rather characters – from this body of material (e.g. Diomedes, Patroclus and Achilles in the Iliad), and deftly intersperses his study of these individuals with references to their Roman counterparts. Chapter 2, ‘The Origins of Roman Theomachy: Lucretius and Vergil’, shifts the study significantly forward. Lucretius' theomachy, C. argues, is used to ‘reconceiv[e] the nature of the world and the relationship between the gods and humankind’ (p. 57), whilst the surprisingly subdued presence of theomachy in Virgil's Aeneid shows the effect of ‘political considerations’ (p. 58), namely Augustan ideology and its emphasis on piety. In Chapter 3, ‘Theomachy as Test in Ovid's Metamorphoses’, C. uses Ovid's Metamorphoses as an anchor point to talk about ‘belief’ as a part of Graeco-Roman religion before examining the theomachic repercussions of a text that appears to challenge both the gods and, by extension, the emperor.
In Chapter 4, ‘Deification and Theomachy in Seneca's Hercules Furens’, C. uses Seneca's Hercules (among other examples) as a means of exploring the ‘madness’ of theomachy, as well as demonstrating how mythical representations of theomachy in Roman imperial poetry could be used for political ends. In Chapter 5, ‘Theomachy in Historical Epic: Disenchantment and Remystification in Lucan's Bellum Ciuile’, C. negotiates the problem of discussing theomachy in a text that omits the gods by showing that Lucan's heroes function as divine figures who engage in their own form of theomachy.
C. begins the final part of his monograph by showing the debt owed by Flavian epic to Homer (Chapter 6: ‘Paradigms of Theomachy in Flavian Epic: Homer, Intertextuality, and the Struggle for Identity’). Chapter 7, ‘The War of the Worlds: Hannibal as Theomach in Silius Italicus' Punica’, focuses on Hannibal and his status as a theomach, and includes some astute observations on the role reversals of Romans and Carthaginians (notably p. 243: ‘a cynical reader might well conclude … that Dido's ultor may not be Hannibal after all, but rather Caesar and his self-destructive and theomachic heirs’). Finally Chapter 8, ‘Theomachy and the Limits of Epic: Capaneus in Statius' Thebaid’, deals with Statius' Capaneus whom C. views as fundamental to the path that Statius negotiates between ‘various, and often conflicting, epic theologies’ (p. 260). He concludes with a study of Theseus, who in combining the qualities of Jupiter and Capaneus threatens to create a world in which it is human agency – not divine – that is truly influential (pp. 295–7).
Chapter 9, ‘The Politics of Theomachy’, offers literary examples, sourced from the early principate, of theomachy within a political setting, with the figures of Augustus, Caligula and Domitian receiving particular attention. In the epilogue C. cites examples of theomachy in European Renaissance literature, at the same time illustrating its reliance upon the classical texts; again with the figure of Capaneus looming large. In concluding, C. reiterates the far-reaching consequences of theomachy: ‘The war against god is no parable of folly, nor a covert celebration of atheism, but rather the means of understanding the premises upon which worlds are built and the uncomfortable allegiances to which our moral choices commit us’ (p. 328).
This work has clearly been a labour of love. Attention to detail permeates throughout, from the ‘chronology of emperors and poets’ at the start of the work to the indexes at the back. The general index in particular is extremely detailed and serves as an excellent reference point for the scholar who wishes simply to ‘dip’ into this volume as opposed to trawling through its dense 386 pages. Whilst the breadth of this book's scope limits the attention that can be paid to individual texts, overall this is an immensely satisfying work which should serve as an essential reference point for any scholar looking to study the relationship (and conflict) between men and gods in classical literature.
