This book arose out of a conference held online during the COVID-19 lockdown. It is a collection of papers on an important theme: digressions in Greek and Roman historiography. Like many conference volumes, it suffers from a certain unevenness in quality and focus of the papers, and even the theme – digressions – is less of a unifier than one might think since the editors deliberately shy away from offering a definition of the concept or a review of previous scholarship in the introduction, and the contributors – explicitly or implicitly – work with different definitions.
This problem is particularly noteworthy in the first three chapters, which seem to be struggling to establish a workable definition of a digression. In Chapter 1, by I.M. Konstantakos on Herodotus, the author adopts the definition of ‘more or less any piece of text which a modern academic author would place in a typographically separated section of his text, such as a footnote or an appendix’ (p. 13). This seems an unhelpful definition with regard to Herodotus, who writes so little like a modern academic author; and, after offering the definition, Konstantakos does not return to it and does not seem to apply it. Instead, he discusses various passages of Herodotus – Arion and the dolphin, the dream of Hippias, the meeting of Alcmaeon and Croesus, Thrasybulos’ advice to Periander – that hardly fall into the category of footnote or appendix material. It would even be possible to query whether these passages constitute digressions, considering the chronologically meandering shape of Herodotus’ narrative. This question is not faced by Konstantakos, who instead is at pains to demonstrate the thematic significance of each of these passages and their links with other passages in the Histories, an endeavour that seems to undermine the initial definition of digressions.
In Chapter 2, by V. Pothou on Thucydides, there is no attempt to define a digression beyond quoting Thucydides’ use of the Greek term ekbole. Pothou focuses on the colonisation of Sicily at the beginning of Book 6, the Archaeologia and the Pentecontaëtia, which gives the impression that he is operating with a definition based on deviation from a linear chronology. The main concern of the chapter is how Thucydides’ digressions differ from those of Herodotus and Hellanicus and so constitute innovations, but the argument is often difficult to follow because of a combination of allusiveness and lack of quotations of the primary text. The chapter is followed by a six-page appendix setting out in visual form the ratio of digressions to main text in each of the books of the History.
Chapter 3, on the early, fragmentary Alexander historians, by A.I. Molina Marín, applies a definition of digression relying on contents: ‘any issue not directly related to Alexander’ (p. 75). This is understandable under the circumstances, but locating digressive material in fragmentary authors is surely an activity fraught with peril. The subsequent identifications of geographical and ethnographical digressions are sensible, but the labelling of every passage dealing with luxury or tryphe as a ‘ceremonial digression’ seems more doubtful. The chapter suffers from a number of unfortunate generalisations about Greek historiography (‘in antiquity, the writer who narrates the events was usually an eyewitness’, p. 78; ‘Every time that an ancient historian changes geographical scenery, he introduces a geographical digression’, p. 84).
Chapter 4, by N. Miltsios on Polybius, avoids the pitfalls of the first three chapters. It begins with a cogent discussion of the structure of Polybius’ Histories, showing how Polybius largely avoids geographical and anecdotal digressions, but instead treats all parts of the known world as a whole, the interconnectedness of which (symploke) is part of the point of his interpretation of history. The digressions found in the Histories, which Polybius calls parekbaseis, are the so-called narratorial interventions: ‘As a rule, Polybius does not deviate from the main line of the narrative in order to tell different stories, but to set out and support his views on the events and characters described, his work and his authorial choices, and also the genre of historiography in general and his fellow historians’ (p. 101). The rest of the chapter offers a sound and insightful discussion of Polybius’ practice both in short digressions of this kind and in his three book-length digressions (Books 6, 12 and the lost 34), which is well worth reading for any scholar of Polybius or of ancient historiography.
In Chapter 5 Baumann does not confront the issue of the definition of a digression, but treats the passage on the law-givers Charondas and Zaleucus in the Bibliothēkē Historikē of Diodorus Siculus as a case study. The narrative analysis is overall well-observed and insightful (although it would be good to have some more explanation of how the passage can be understood as ‘visual’), and the conclusion that the digression is simultaneously morally edifying and narratively entertaining is convincing and probably true for most of Diodorus’ digressions. The observation that this digression is ‘self-referential’ in that it glorifies literacy in a work meant to be read is well made, but that is obviously not true for most of the other digressions in the Bibliotheke and so seems unique to this case study.
With chapter 6 the volume moves from Greece to Rome. At the same time, there is a marked shift in the method of authors towards a more sophisticated, theoretical approach to historiography as literature.
Chapter 6, on Caesar’s Civil War by C.S. Kraus, faces the question of what defines a digression head on: ‘how stable is the traditional binary of “primary” text and digression? … is digression contrastive to historical narrative, or constitutive of it?’ (p. 133). Kraus analyses Caesar’s narrative of Curio in North Africa in BC 2.23–44 as ‘both digressive and integral to the rest of the commentarii’ (p. 133), marked by figurative language and a tragic atmosphere, but meant to throw light on and challenge the main narrative. This is an important chapter, which joins the growing body of scholarship highlighting the literary qualities of Caesar’s commentarii.
Chapter 7, on Sallust by E. Shaw, takes a similar approach. Shaw begins by taking issue with the negative connotations traditionally associated with the word ‘digression’ and proceeds to show how digressions in Sallust introduce an ‘otherness’ into the work, in terms of truth value and deviation from the usual accounts of well-known events, functioning as ‘subversive moments’ (p. 177). Like Kraus, Shaw stresses the literary qualities and sophistication of Sallust and highlights the way in which digressions can be simultaneously ‘other’ and integral to a work of historiography.
Chapter 8, on Tacitus by K. Khellaf, approaches Tacitean digressions from a similarly literary perspective. Khellaf examines three digressive (or ‘pseudo-digressive’) episodes: Annals 4.32, more often known as the second preface, the revolt of the Usipi in Agricola 28 and the false Nero in Histories 2.8–9. He argues that the two latter (alongside other similar digressions) illustrate the bleak view of history presented in Ann. 4.32, but, by focusing on people of servile status interfering in ‘proper’ history and often showing themselves better than noble Romans, at the same time introduce a carnivalesque element into Tacitus’ work with the ultimate purpose of criticising the emperor and the Senate.
Chapter 9, by Liotsakis on Arrian’s Anabasis, discusses in detail Arrian’s evaluation of the destruction of Thebes (1.9) and his second preface (1.12.2–5). Liotsakis analyses the former as Arrian’s way of telling readers to read his writings in the tradition of Thucydides and the latter as a pointer to compare the work with Xenophon’s Anabasis, with previous Alexander historians and with Homer. Liotsakis argues that such pointers towards other literary works and genres are characteristic of most of Arrian’s digressions, which act as ‘meta-literary markers’ (p. 238), guiding readers towards a genre-based understanding of the work. The analysis is persuasive, but does not move much beyond current scholarly interpretations of Arrian (including Liotsakis’s own).
Chapter 10, by M.O. Lindholmer on Cassius Dio, offers a careful analysis of the digressions on magistracies in Book 4. Lindholmer argues persuasively that Dio uses these programmatically to highlight some key problems with the Republic in a way supporting his overall picture of the Republic as a flawed type of constitution that contains the seeds of its own destruction. The chapter does an excellent job of showing Dio’s uniqueness among the sources, both in focus and in his refusal to idealise the fallen Republic.
Chapter 11 on Herodian by C.S. Chrysanthou begins with an overview of ancient literary theory on digressions. This is useful within the chapter, but would have been even more so if it had been part of the introduction to the volume. The chapter continues with a comprehensive overview of types of digressions in Herodian, categorising them as ‘historiographical detours’ (also sometimes called programmatic remarks), ‘digressive remarks’ (parenthetical narratorial interventions), backstories, ethnography, topography, and religion and antiquarianism. This categorisation is useful, if fairly unsurprising, but the real crux of the chapter is Chrysanthou’s argument that the digressions form part of the narrative patterning of Herodian’s work, engaging reader expectations, which are sometimes fulfilled and sometimes thwarted. Overall, the chapter provides a useful guide to reading Herodian for both newcomers and veterans alike.
Chapter 12 on Ammianus Marcellinus by M. Hanaghan focuses on four digressions: Julian’s imaginary Thracian campaign (22.8.1–48), analysed as a piece of counterfactual history (or a sideshow); the Persian pearls (23.6.85–8), which foreshadows Julian’s invasion of Persia with a view to acquiring rich spoils; the bissextile day (26.1.7–14), an instance of hidden polemics; and the tragedian Phrynichus (28.1.2–5), which has metaliterary implications for Ammianus’ handling of the bloody and depressing history of his final books. Overall, the careful, thoughtful analysis throws important light on Ammianus’ use of digressions as significant comments on the main historical narrative.
There is no conclusion or afterword. Overall, there is much to enjoy in the volume, which works better as a collection to pick and choose from than as a work to be read from cover to cover. By having just one chapter per ancient author the editors have ensured that most readers will know from the table of contents which chapter(s) they will want to read, but the chapters are of uneven scope and quality, so that not every ancient historiographer is equally well served. Hence, readers interested in Roman Republican and Early Imperial historiography are more likely to find something of interest and import than those interested in classical Greek historiography. The most innovative chapters are, unsurprisingly, the ones that deal with authors traditionally not celebrated for their literary qualities: Polybius, Cassius Dio, Herodian and Ammianus.
