There were times in the twentieth and early twenty-first century when scholarship on Catullus generated new directions not just for those of us who work on this poet, but for many Latinists in other fields. For instance, R. Thomas’ article on allusion in poem 64 (AJP 103 (1982), 144–64), M. Skinner's works on Catullan gender (for example, Helios 16 (1989), 7–23; 20 (1993), 107–30) and D. Feeney on similes in poem 68 (in A. J. Woodman and J. Powell (eds), Author and Audience in Latin Literature (1992), 33–44), to name but a few, have been highly influential beyond Catullan scholarship. In the last decade, however, although much good work on Catullus has been published, it has not seemed to me that we have been shaping the discussion in Latin studies more widely.

Translation as Muse will, I hope, be a work that prods and influences not just Catullanists but Classicists more generally. Elizabeth Young's monograph on Catullan (and Roman) translation is refined and compelling. She focuses on a small number of poems (sustained attention is given to 4, 5, 7, 12, 25, 50, 51, 64–6 and 70), but deals rigorously with the selection. Y. makes a major contribution to Catullan studies that I hope many other scholars will engage with and develop. She builds on recent work, especially S. McElduff, Roman Theories of Translation: Surpassing the Source (2013) and M. Bettini, Vertere: un'antropologia della traduzione nella cultura antica (2012), which have each shed new light on Roman attitudes to translation. Y. argues that the Romans saw translation as a creative endeavour that garnered authors real cultural cachet. Roman translation in Y.’s sense bears only a slight resemblance to contemporary Anglophone ideas of the practice. Y. sees Roman translation as including a host of practices that we tend to call by other names: the cut and paste of ‘allusion’ or ‘reference’, the compression or expansion of a source text in an ‘adaptation’ and the polemical appropriation of ‘reception’. Hence of the list of poems that Y. discusses, only two (51 and 66) meet modern criteria for translations. The others are usually credited solely to Catullus, yet within them Y. focuses on individual words or phrases, or even concepts, that she argues have been brought over (mostly from Greek) and embedded in a Roman context. Throughout the book Y. thus pushes the boundary between translation, allusion and reception, seeking wider territory for Catullan ‘translation’.

As a scholar invested in the projects of both allusion and reception, I was sceptical about how far Y. could expand the concept of translation. However, her close readings convinced me that conceptualizing at least some intertextual and reception practices as ‘translation’ can highlight cultural, political and practical dimensions that otherwise fade into the background. For example, in ch. 2, Y. places sustained attention on the ‘napkin’ poems (12 and 25). She argues that individual Greek words and Greekisms show Catullus engaging in a practice of material translation. Catullus literally translates these Iberian napkins into a Roman setting through the physical movement from the Spanish province into the Roman centre, but the translation is also linguistic and cultural. By using Greek words or constructions to describe the napkins, Catullus mutates their import, transforming them from provincial Western items into exotic Greek markers of cultural capital. This does not fit our modern sense of translation, but Y. shows that it did fit the Romans’ idea, which saw translation as inherently transformative and appropriative (and thus much closer to modern ideas of reception).

This focus on Roman translation as cultural appropriation permeates Y.’s analysis and is one of the book's strengths. It allows Y. to analyse the close relationship between Catullus’ aesthetics and his Roman imperialist context. She consistently connects individual moments of translation with the wider cultural and political projects of Roman imperialism. Thus Y.’s reading of poem 64 in ch. 1 foregrounds its aesthetics in tandem with the imperial dimension of a (Gallic) Roman poet writing what Y. calls a ‘Greakish’ poem (26). Y. argues that Catullus offers only one real hero of 64, the poet-narrator, an intrepid Roman explorer (and appropriator) of Greek myths and poems. This somewhat ‘meta’ reading did not convince me that this is really the point of the poem, as Y. suggests, but I did find it a useful lens through which to view the poem anew. Y.’s reading of Catullus’ Sappho in ch. 6 also stands out as one which highlights the dual political and cultural dimension of Catullus’ translation practices. The book consistently links together the culture of Roman imperialism with the Roman project of hellenizing Latin literature. It thus highlights the many ways in which that literary project was fraught with power dynamics and colonizing agendas, ranging from Roman attempts to surpass the Greek material, to anxiety about Greek poetic superiority.

I have two issues with the book. One is Y.’s elision of epigram within elegy, relevant when Catullus’ response to Callimachus (as both an elegist and an epigrammatist) is under discussion. In ch. 5 (156–65), Y. discusses Catullan Callimacheanism across poems 65, 66 and 116, and treats both Catullus and Callimachus as elegists. That is, 116 is treated as an elegy, part of an ‘elegiac libellus’ and brought to bear in an argument about elegy. Y.’s argument that poems 65 and 116 form programmatic bookends does not resolve the fundamental generic issue, that 65 promises a set of maesta carmina, which Y. rightly takes to mean elegies, but that the collection then shifts to a distinctly epigrammatic mode. Y.’s interpretation does not address the issue that both of the ‘programmatic’ poems are belied by the surrounding carmina (the poems following 65 are not, predominantly, maesta; nor do the Gellius epigrams that precede poem 116 qualify as ‘soft’). Elsewhere in the book Y. shows her familiarity with the generic hallmarks of epigram, especially Hellenistic epigram, in her discussion of poem 4 (ch. 3) and poem 70, discussed in the epilogue. The book thus sometimes treats epigram as a distinct genre (rightly, in my view), and at other times elides it into elegy, in turn simplifying Catullus’ relationship with Callimachus, who influenced him distinctly as both elegist and epigrammatist.

Worth mentioning, however, is Y.’s epilogue, an outstanding discussion of Catullus’ version of Callimachus’ epigram 27. Taking Catullus’ poem 70 as a springboard, she demonstrates that Catullus recognized contradictions within Callimachus’ own programmatic positions. Moreover, Catullus knew that for a Roman poet to ‘make it new’ in Alexandrian fashion meant following in Greek footsteps — but following in anybody's footsteps contravened Callimachean aesthetics. Y. thus argues that Catullus knew that Roman cultural and poetic belatedness, plus the positive valence of translation in Roman letters, meant that Roman poets could never perform Alexandrian aesthetics in a truly Callimachean fashion. Moreover, this knowledge fuelled Catullus’ creativity in his epigrams.

The other issue relates to the scholarly scaffolding. This book was apparently born of a doctoral thesis, but thankfully it lacks the hallmarks of a dissertation. Y. writes with style and concision, and focuses the argument tightly. However, while it is enjoyable to read a book unencumbered by dissertation-esque footnotes, at times I found Y. too brief on the trends in scholarship. Scholars who have in-depth knowledge of Catullan scholarship will likely find themselves nodding in agreement at Y.’s characterizations of what ‘many scholars’ have said or written, but the average graduate student or keen undergraduate will not find all the trails laid out for them to pursue.

These issues are minor. Overall, Translation as Muse displays a real depth of learning, on Catullus’ poetry itself as well as on his Greek antecedents, his Roman historical context and various processes of cultural appropriation in the ancient Mediterranean. It deserves to be read widely by lovers of Latin poetry, and to last beyond its own age.

Y.’s book contrasts in many ways with Daisy Dunn's Catullus’ Bedspread. D.’s book on Catullus’ life, times and poetry, written for popular press William Collins, has been reviewed in many newspapers and literary pamphlets, especially in the UK. The people are rejoicing in Catullus’ Bedspread. But should they? D.’s book tells the story of Catullus’ daily life and feelings as drawn directly from his poems. The prose rollicks along, and the book has great momentum. But the fundamental premise driving the whole project is that Catullus’ poems can, or should, be used to tell a story of the poet's life, times and emotions. This premise, which flourished during the Romantic era, has been thoroughly demolished by scholars throughout the twentieth century. D. offers no justification for bringing this method back to life. And, rather strangely, she incorporates many of the insights that recent scholars gained precisely when they stopped looking at Catullus’ poems through the filter of his biography. For instance, D.’s analysis of the textual innovations of Catullus’ poem 64, such as at 160–5, suggests that she has read recent scholarship on his allusive poetics. Yet her poetic analysis is always ultimately made to serve the biographical method of reconstructing Catullus’ life and feelings through his own poems.

In my view, D. does best when she strays from Catullus’ poems. She peppers her biography of Catullus with facts about everyday Roman life taken from historical and archaeological sources. Her portrait of the late Republic thus pulsates with life, and it is a shame that this vibrancy serves a discredited premise. I say this bluntly because this book has gained traction with readers, generated by the very positive response to it by the Anglophone press. Catullus’ Bedspread may well shape popular views of Catullus for some time, so Classicists need to engage with it.

D. has also published a complete volume of translations of Catullus’ poems, based primarily on Quinn's Latin text (157). The volume includes a brief, charming introduction and one page of notes (the introduction cleverly uses Catullus’ reception by twentieth-century poets as an ‘in’ to mitigate the distance between us and the ancient source). The rest comprises the complete translated poems, where D.’s skills with Latin come to the fore. D. decided not to translate Catullus’ metres because of the difficulty of replicating Latin metres in English (xii–xiii), hence the poems are in free verse. She also eschews rhyme or other formal devices. D. attempts to coax Catullus’ unique voice out with alliteration, assonance and word choice. In many places she succeeds. But when the rhythm falls silent, some part of Catullus, too, falls away. D. writes that ‘an elegiac couplet in English will not sound like a Latin elegiac couplet when read aloud’ (xiii). True, but neither does a free verse version. That said, the collection offers some lovely turns of phrase, while sticking fairly closely to Catullus’ mode of expression. D.’s version of poem 64 stood out for me. The simple choice to break the text up into stanzas works well to convey the original's internal segments, while D.’s language is aptly rich. This volume, with lively English but very minimal notes, would provide a reasonable first introduction to Catullus in translation for a general reader.

Gianfranco Nuzzo's edition of Italian translations of Catullus’ lyrics and epigrams (poems 1–60 and 69–116) is quite different from D.’s translation. N. provides: the Latin text, with critical apparatus and information on the manuscript tradition; the Italian translations, with running notes on the poems; and an introduction that sets out the basics of Catullus’ life and work, focusing on his shorter poems. I enjoyed N.’s vivid translations, partly because he is willing to depart from the letter of the Latin to capture its spirit. For example, his versions of some polymetrics use additional lines to fully convey the compact Latin sense in Italian, and at times N. transforms Latin indirect discourse into direct speech, nicely re-creating Catullus’ informality in these vignettes while bringing characters such as Cornelius (poem 1) and Lesbia (poem 36) to life in ‘their own words’. (N. wisely replicates Catullus’ indirect discourse in Italian where it pertains to the focalization in the Latin, as in poem 4's portrait of the yacht.) Finally, these poems charmed me with their occasional sonic echoes of the Latin (an effect admittedly more achievable in Italian than other languages). See for example N.'s final line of poem 70, ‘sul vento devi scriverlo e sull'acqua che scorre’ or his anaphora of questions in poem 8, culminating in ‘A chi tu morderai le labbra?’ The running notes provide insight on the poems’ meanings as well as the literary context behind them, including specific allusions Catullus might be making. For Italian readers who want to delve into Catullus, this volume will provide a good start, as it offers not just translations but guidance on the editions, poetic aspects and literary context. However, it is a shame that the work only deals with the polymetrics and epigrams, leaving such a reader in the dark about some of Catullus’ most challenging — and rewarding — poems.