Aeolic, or Aeolian, is an ambiguous term in modern scholarship, and it was also an ambiguous term in antiquity. It may refer to the dialect of a limited landscape in north-western Asia Minor with the neighbouring island of Lesbos, but it may also refer to a higher-level subgroup of Greek, including Thessalian and Boeotian. In older scholarship it had an even broader application (as it sometimes had in antiquity as well). W.’s book is, in some sense, a return to the earlier definition. If one should describe it critically, everything becomes Aeolic in his hands, but it is important to stress that it is not out of some epistemological naivety. Even when, or perhaps especially when, one disagrees with his audacious reconstructions, they are always thought-provoking in the best meaning of that word. His analyses are meticulous and rely on an impressive grasp of material and literature from different scholarly traditions.
The basic premise of the book is that Aeolic did not originate in Early-Iron-Age Boeotia, Thessaly and Aeolis, but rather in a Bronze-Age Anatolian context, where Mycenaean Greek speakers (‘Ahhiyawa’, as they are called in contemporary Hittite documents) intermingled with indigenous Luvian peoples. This crucible event resulted in a distinct dialect and ethnolinguistic identity, which was later transplanted from east to west in the post-palatial migrations. Two pillars support W.’s thesis: his comprehensive linguistic definition of ‘Aeolic’, which includes ‘special Mycenaean’ features in the Linear B corpus, and his innovative use of mythological narratives as evidence of Bronze-Age hybridisation.
Linguistically, W.’s broad concept differs sharply from more conventional treatments. By identifying variations in the language of Linear B documents as early Aeolic features, he back-projects the dialect into the Late Bronze Age. The strength of this approach lies in its unifying potential: it links scattered phonological, morphological and onomastic traits across the Mycenaean and later Aeolic spectrum. Yet it is precisely this expansiveness that invites critique. ‘Special Mycenaean’ features are notoriously ambiguous, potentially arising from scribal idiosyncrasies or administrative variation rather than dialectal allegiance. W.’s willingness to subsume all such variation under an Aeolic label may be seen as overreaching, even if it provokes productive rethinking of dialect boundaries in pre-alphabetic Greek.
It is instructive to contrast this book with a recent book on the same dialects, M. Scarborough’s The Aeolic Dialects of Ancient Greek (2023), which represents a more circumscribed and empirically anchored approach. That book catalogues the innovations shared by Lesbian, Thessalian and Boeotian, subjecting each isogloss to probabilistic testing in order to evaluate the strength of the Aeolic subgrouping. The methodology is cautious and rigorous, grounded in the alphabetic evidence of the first millennium, and sceptical of speculative extensions into the Bronze Age. W., on the other hand, expands Aeolic’s domain both temporally and culturally, linking it to Mycenaean and Anatolian contexts. Although W. lists Scarborough’s work in the bibliography (and mentions it in two footnotes), he does not build upon it.
Turning to myth, W. applies Lévi-Strauss’s concept of bricolage to argue that Aeolian communities reshaped mythical fragments into origin narratives affirming their identity. He interprets classical and post-classical myths – foundational tales of Metapontium, cultic symbolism around Ephesus and motifs of bees and divination – as echoing Bronze-Age intercultural exchange. Thus, myth functions as an active, cognitive instrument shaping collective memory. Nevertheless, this approach raises valid concerns about historicity. The propensity of myth to be adapted, reinvented or politically instrumentalised over time implies that treating later narratives as transparent windows into Bronze-Age realities risks collapsing historical layers. Though W. acknowledges this, his interpretative framework favours continuity.
It is impossible to address all details in a book of this length. Instead, I have chosen a few particular topics to illustrate potential weaknesses in W.’s approach. Chapter 3.3: W. treats the Aeolic use of -οντ- rather than the expected ‑οτ- in perfect participles (e.g. γϵγόνοντα for γϵγονότα) as an instance of morphological ‘complification’, due to the ‘increase in morphological opacity’. In my mind, this implies some argumentative gymnastics. After all, a unique allomorph with a difficult phonological structure (Mycenaean ‑oh-) is replaced by a more common one. W. also explains the Aeolic variant as a contact phenomenon since Anatolian has ‑ant- as the general participle morpheme regardless of tempus and diathesis. Yet, Aeolic does not conflate ‑οντ- and ‑μϵνος, and the case for contact is simply too weak.
Chapter 5.6: W. follows N. Van Brock and G. Nagy in deriving Greek θϵράπων (‘attendant’) from the Luvian term tarpāšša- (‘ritual substitute’). This connection is highly speculative, and it does not fit the use of the word in Greek particularly well. W.’s explanation of Mycenaean te-ra-po-si-jo as therapos(s)iyo- and thus as a direct testimony of the Luvian stem is much less probable than theraponsiyo-, a regular derivation from the Greek stem θϵράποντ- (cf. ke-ro-si-ja = γϵρουσία from γέροντ-).
Chapter 6.5: The Mycenaean word o-ka is explained as orkhā́ (‘warrior command’), which is the most popular explanation (but not the only possibility). It is related to ἀρχή and Homeric ὄρχαμος (‘chief’), which W. deems an Aeolic form due to the ‘o-grade reflex of *r̥’. He seems to forget that Rix’s Law would mean that a syllabic resonant is vocalised in Proto-Greek already.
Chapter 10.4: We learn that Cadmus, the founder of Aeolian Thebes, is not only Phoenician but also Anatolian. His name is then associated with the theonym Cadmilus, the father of the Cabiri of Samothrace, and this name is afterwards linked to the Hittite smithing god Ḫašamili. These connections are not new but found in the scholarly literature. Yet, this kind of accumulative evidence is typical of W.’s mythological tour de force. Furthermore, it is uncertain how many of these elements can be projected back to the second millennium bce. The traditions surrounding the Cabiri are more likely a much later product of local syncretism.
Chapter 13: Colchis is also known as Aea, it was ruled by Aeetes, and his sister ruled in the island of Aeaea. These names are associated with the Mesopotamian dawn-goddess Aya. Yet, at the same time we learn (p. 381) that the latter two names occur in Linear B texts as a₃-wa-ja and a₃-wa-ta. Both of these connections may be true but not at the same time (the crucial thing being the -w- in the middle). Once again, everything is thrown into the same bowl, with Argonauts becoming Aeolians and showing up in Mycenaean documents.
Despite these reservations, the study is a significant contribution. Its methodological breadth – combining philology, archaeology and anthropology – demonstrates the value of approaching dialect history not as a purely linguistic matter but rather as a problem of identity formation. The linguistic chapters will provoke renewed debate about the status of ‘special Mycenaean’ features and the formation of Greek dialects, while the mythological chapters illustrate the creativity of ancient Greek communities in fashioning narratives of self. The synthesis is perhaps at times speculative but consistently stimulating.
The book is a little too long: 631 pages, and I doubt that it will appeal to non-specialists. Yet, the text is well written and well structured. Even where one remains unconvinced, the book’s argumentative sweep and imaginative integration of disparate evidence render it a valuable and provocative contribution to the field.
