For anyone working on Lucian, C. is – or at least should be – a well-known name. The 1998 publication of Le metamorfosi della parola: studi sulla parodia in Luciano di Samosata still stands as a cogent and well-argued modelling of Lucian as a parodist of earlier texts, particularly well defined by C.'s concept of ‘mixis’. That book was a significant contribution to Lucianic studies. In this latest volume, C. offers another informative book. According to C., the purpose of this work is to ‘very concretely illustrate what the voice of satire is and how what we call the satirical hero is constructed’. Using Lucian as a model, C. aims to show how one must be and act in order freely to criticise the world around us.

As expected, C. wonderfully achieves his goals. Be that as it may, a reader familiar with satire as a genre and Lucian's bibliography will not find any surprises. Rather, anyone interested in Lucian as a satiric voice will find the best synoptic overview of the topic currently on the shelf. The layout of the book falls into six sections: voices and heroes of satire; the virtues of being; the virtues of doing the impossible mission; the virtues and power of vision; the freedom and obligation of speaking; the laughter of the satiric hero and its effects. C., as is customary, sinks his teeth deep into an extensive range of passages from Lucian's corpus to construct his argument. Revisiting any of these detailed aspects would be redundant. Instead, it is far better, if not proper, to take a very Lucianic, katascopic position and note the contemplative synthesis that C. provides, which is ultimately the contribution of this book.

Through the prism of Lucian C. constructs satire as a form of perception, one defined by the proposition of not trusting anyone or anything. Rather, everything that constitutes our banal everyday life must be investigated; the target is anything that defies reason. Enter Lucian's multifaceted and varied characters and personas: Lycinus, Menippus, Mikyllos, Timon, etc.; there is also, of course, the problematic and ambiguous ‘I’. Here C. reiterates a crucial point about Lucian's satire and satiric voice. Narrowing it down to one figure, one voice, or even Lucian himself is not only impossible, but any attempt to do so misses the point. The search for difficult truths in seemingly endless scenarios requires multiple voices and viewpoints, and this is essential to building the satiric hero. Both the form of the hero and his critical voice is wrapped up in paradox, otherness, estrangement – positions ultimately linked back to Socrates and the Cynics – and C.'s notion of ‘mixis’. Menippus, for example, is never Menippus. In the Necyomantia he is Aristophanes' Dionysus, Odysseus and even Orpheus, i.e. the distorted literary mirror that is ‘mixis’. The incongruity easily produces humour. But as C. notes, it is the unexpected, the fantastic and the unbelievable that creates a new vision, one particularly on the margins of society and thus beyond the rules, which is essential to satire. This new and estranged vision is born of impossible circumstances, such as the kataskopic view of looking down on humanity from the position of the gods, the transporting of Charon up to Athens to witness Greek culture and society first hand, or the reincarnation of Pythagoras in the form of a rooster. It is this alienating/ed position that allows the satiric hero to reject convention, tradition, established opinion, and to see the contradictions at play in both banal and especially philosophical life.

With this new position and vision also comes the ability, if not an obligation, to speak freely. On the topic of Lucian and parrhesia, C. is precise in discussing its fifth-century Athenian context, as exercised not only by Aristophanes but also Socrates, Euripides and the Cynics. C. sees this parrhesia as a right of democracy and perhaps even a moral duty of the polis. For Lucian, however, the author rightfully observes that his parrhesia is not one of history and democracy, but born of his very parodic ‘mixis’; his creation of something new. It is Lucian's blending of various perspectives – literary, philosophical, mythological, etc. – that creates his literary stage on which his form of intertextual parrhesia can be aimed at whatever satiric target is the flavour of the moment.

And so we see a familiar hero, obviously rooted in Old Comedy, with a very important function: the production of laughter. Laughter in Lucian is indeed everywhere. For C., it is specifically a critical weapon capable of undermining and reducing its target to the laughable and the contemptible. More importantly, C. sees Lucian's laughter as a philosophical and ethical instrument that is the hallmark virtue of the satirical hero; it is what makes him recognisable as such. His laughter unmasks convention, highlights inconsistency and absurdity, and causes the target suffering. In the bigger picture, it is an instrument of communication between the one laughing, the target and Lucian's audience, both reader and actual witness to his sophistic performance. For the audience especially, laughter is a strategy of participation in the action constructed by the satirical hero and author. As Lucian has his own trinity (Aristophanes, Plato, Menippus), so does satire.

As noted, C.'s objective was to define the satiric voice and the nature of the satiric hero in Lucian. Again, he has wonderfully done so. His construction of satire works. But satire as a socially engaged genre seems to be C.'s underlying thesis. Certain words should be resonating: virtue, ethical, philosophical, obligation, contempt, suffering. These may be predicated upon the word satire. But is Lucian or any of his characters and personas virtuous, ethical, or philosophical? In pointing out absurdity, inconsistency, or contradiction does Lucian ever offer an alternative model or a solution? What about Lucian's own contradictions? Or is laughter the end in itself? C.'s model of satire is indeed satire. But it may not be the only model applicable to Lucian; although clearly connected to Greek comedy, C.'s model particularly, I fear, suppresses comedy and its function too much. Nevertheless, C. writes a good book. Reading his prose is refreshing because he is always thinking about the text. He is engaged in the production of ideas and conclusions instead of endless observation. This volume is essential reading for anyone working on Lucian and should appear on postgraduate reading lists.