Reflections in a Serpent's Eye is a title that nicely encapsulates the multi-layered aspects of Michaela Janan's latest work, a Lacanian exploration of Ovid's Theban narratives in Metamorphoses 3 and 4. From the reflections of Narcissus in his pool to those of Rome in Thebes, J.'s own reflections on the ‘psychoanalytic patterns of Thebes’ doom' (225) reveal many aspects of the Metamorphoses in an engaging and stimulating new light, a light by which justice can seem a lot like cruelty, and Theban serpents a lot like Roman she-wolves. Broadly speaking, Ovid's Theban cycle is for J. a response to the Aeneid as a ‘meditation on the ideal city, and the relations between citizens and the sexes therein’ (225). J., as often, uses the psychoanalytical framework of Lacan (here with some help from Freud, Hegel and Kant) to interpret and articulate Ovid's own meditation on the city.

Ch. 1 serves as a literary, methodological and theoretical introduction to the rest of the book. There we find J. signalling her support for full Kristevan intertextuality as opposed to what she sees as the weakened form commonly employed by classical scholarship; this leads into a discussion of Lacanian theory and its relationship to Freud and Hegel; we are introduced to key Lacanian concepts which inform the rest of the work, such as the Real, the Symbolic and the Imaginary; the Father and the Woman; and the divided subject. With these concepts in place, the investigation proper commences in ch. 2. There J. focuses on the paradoxical (but entirely Ovidian) combination of pietas and scelus that leads to the foundation of Thebes, as Agenor exiles his son for failing to find his daughter. J. articulates this chapter around the Lacanian ideas of the (aloof, neutral) Symbolic Father and the (sadistic, tyrannical) Father of Enjoyment: key moments in the history of Thebes (Cadmus' exile, Diana's punishment of Actaeon) reveal this dark side to the Lacanian father figure, reminding us that at the heart of ‘the rule of law, lies chaos, cruelty, and malign enjoyment’ (86).

Ch. 3 turns from the dark side of law to the dark side of love, and the figure of Juno. J. notes how Juno's anger against those she perceives as her rivals crescendos through the first books of the Metamorphoses, reaching its peak in the Theban narrative as she destroys not just her rivals but also their extended family; Juno's rage then disappears from the main narrative. For J., Juno's pathological need for revenge stems from her pathological jealousy: it ‘enacts on an Olympian scale the dilemmas attendant upon human desire’ (95). Although she eliminates her rivals for Jupiter's affection, she is still unable to attain the inherently unattainable perfect sexual unity, and so spreads the nets of her vengeance even wider (99). For J., Juno's desire for revenge becomes fundamental to her self-perception, revealing the interdependence between self and other. Such interdependence is explored further in ch. 4 in the figures of Narcissus and Echo. Narcissus and Echo, as first human lover, and first female lover respectively, become paradigmatic examples of the problems inherent in desire and intersubjectivity. In ch. 5, J. considers Narcissus in the broader context of the relationship between citizen and city, figuring him now as a mirror image of Sophocles' Oedipus Tyrannus, a character who is otherwise pointedly absent from the Metamorphoses.

In ch. 6, J. explores Pentheus' surprising choice of the serpent as an exemplum for his people. She argues convincingly that the process by which Pentheus reconfigures the serpent that almost prevented the founding of Thebes as a national icon reflects Roman — and specifically Augustan — practice, whereby troubling aspects of history are boldly reclaimed through ideological sleight of hand: the she-wolf, Romulus the fratricide and Remus his victim become national symbols; Augustus' ruthless pursuit of his enemies becomes the pietas of a son avenging his father. Ultimately, Ovid's analysis of Theban ‘strife, judicial cruelty and religious terrorism’ reveals Rome's patriotism to be ‘the darkest of conspiracies’ (223). The final chapter argues against an overly Vergil-centric view of later epic writers. J. makes the case that they are viewing Vergil through an Ovidian lens, a lens which has brought into focus problematic aspects of the story of Rome, of the links between civil, familial and sexual strife.

Although the work centres upon just two books of the Metamorphoses, readers not just of Ovid but also of Augustan and post-Augustan epic will find much to engage, stimulate and provoke them here. A brief summary such as the one given above cannot do justice to the richness and complexity of the book, which is filled with moments of great sensitivity, originality and insight on a range of subjects; readers will find the footnotes repay close attention. There are perhaps occasions where J.'s passionate commitment to Lacanian theory encourages a forced reading of the text: the gods are not as supportive of Jupiter's plan to wipe out humans as she suggests (64); her delayed support (140–2) for the claim that Narcissus is a serial seducer (119) does not entirely convince; there are times too when all but those thoroughly conversant with Lacan may struggle. But even for the non-Lacanian, there is much to enjoy in this bold, challenging and intelligent work that offers many new insights and genuinely fresh perspectives on a familiar text.