THE TROJAN HORSE AND OTHER STORIES

Kindt’s beautifully written book explores how Graeco-Roman concepts of animals and animality were employed to define the human condition. Seeking to answer the question ‘What makes us human?’, Kindt takes readers on an intellectual journey through time, tracing how ancient views concerning humans and animals shaped the foundations of Western humanism. This carefully researched work challenges the notion of ‘human exceptionalism’, the idea that humans are superior to animals, which is linked to animal cruelty and exploitation. Kindt is very successful in providing a thought-provoking narrative. Her witty scholarly storytelling and clever puns make the book a delight to read. Her writing remains sensitive to the critically inclined reader, allowing room for doubt where necessary.

The book is divided into ten thematic chapters, each dedicated to an ancient creature. This cleverly articulated structure enables Kindt to unravel the layers of her large and complex topic. Preceded by an abstract, each chapter begins with the lively retelling of the creature’s story, followed by a discussion of its cultural and historical background. The stimulating analysis of the story is paired with the examination of a modern parallel that illuminates the connection between past and present. The approach is interdisciplinary, integrating perspectives and knowledge from different disciplines (Classics, philosophy, history, sociology, biology, psychology, animal studies, modern art and literature).

The introduction delineates the scope and theoretical framework of the book. It begins with a brief, yet well-written discussion of the emblematic story of Odysseus’ dog, Argos, which encapsulates the power of the human–animal bond. Kindt skilfully employs this story to introduce readers to the subject and the methodology of her research.

The first chapter centres on the Sphinx, a hybrid creature associated with death, knowledge and sexuality. Kindt explores the encounter between this female monster and Oedipus, following its transition from the ancient myth (especially the Sophoclean Oedipus Rex) to modern Freudian psychoanalysis. This is an important chapter, addressing ‘the riddle’ of human nature and identity, but also contesting the validity of the traditional logocentric view of humanity.

Kindt revisits the concept of logocentrism in the second chapter, which examines three animals possessing the ability to speak with human voice: Xanthus, the horse of Achilles, Grunter, the speaking pig from a treatise by Plutarch, and the speaking rooster from a satirical dialogue by Lucian. By discussing the stories of these talking animals, Kindt introduces readers to the idea of animal anthropomorphisation, offering a compelling criticism of human exceptionalism and the logocentric position. This well-argued chapter ends with an intriguing connection between past and present through an illuminating analysis of Franz Kafka’s short story A Report to the Academy (1917).

The focus of the third chapter is the lion of Androclus, a Roman story about the unusual friendship between a runaway slave and a lion. The question asked is whether animals have a share in justice, and Kindt’s treatment of the subject holds significant appeal for readers invested in animal welfare. She demonstrates how stories like that of Androclus and his lion friend challenge anthropocentric positions by giving animals human-like qualities. She persuasively argues in favour of a justice that extends beyond the human, on the basis that both human and non-human animals are sentient beings that can feel pain, thus linking the ancient narrative with the works of modern philosophers such as Jeremy Bentham, Peter Singer and Martha Nussbaum. Equally important is the discussion on the dehumanisation of certain humans and the connection between human and animal oppression.

The unexpected subject of the fourth chapter is the Cyclops Polyphemus. Kindt convincingly points out that this creature’s humanity is ambiguous, given his animalistic tendencies and primitivism. Polyphemus represents the quintessential ‘other’, the uncivilised foreigner, serving as a case study for how animality is used to define particular human identities, becoming a tool for exclusion. Kindt draws insightful parallels between ancient and modern stereotypes of savagery (e.g. Darwin’s account of the inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego). She concludes with a perceptive interpretation of the Cyclopes’ single eye, inspired by Roland Barthes’s definition of the punctum.

The animal examined in the fifth chapter is artificial: the famous Trojan Horse used to breach the walls of Troy. The exploration of the subject is engaging and well-articulated, beginning with a discussion on the use of real horses in warfare, Athena’s association with horses and her involvement in the construction of the Trojan Horse. These are followed by a cohesive analysis of the Trojan Horse in the Aeneid and the well-argued conclusion that animality is a characteristic of humans at war, since the boundaries between them and predatory animals blur during warfare.

The sixth chapter addresses the subject of meat-eating as a way to define human identity and especially masculinity. The animal whose story constitutes the focal point is the so-called ‘Trojan’ boar, a wild boar dish served at a Roman dinner party. Kindt delves into the themes of meat-eating, hunting, sacrifice and ancient vegetarianism; her observations and insights provide readers with substantive ‘food for thought’.

Chapters 7 and 8 revolve around political philosophy. The former investigates honeybees and the tendency to attribute political qualities to them. Beginning with Aristotle’s inclusion of honeybees in his list of political animals, Kindt examines relevant passages from the works of Seneca, Aelian and Pliny the Elder. Faithful to her interdisciplinary methodology, Kindt introduces biology to the discussion by employing T. Seeley’s findings (Honeybee Democracy [2010]). This allows her to draw interesting conclusions about the humanisation of insects and the naturalisation of politics. Chapter 8 concerns the gadfly and its association with Socrates. The analysis focuses on the critically inclined citizen and takes the findings of the previous chapter one step further, while a connection with the modern world is provided by Hannah Arendt’s work.

The penultimate chapter is dedicated to the Minotaur. Kindt explores the concepts of hybridity and monstrosity, the dangers of human transgression as well as the boundaries between humanity and animality. Particularly noteworthy is the discussion of ancient agricultural practices involving the cross-breeding of different animals or plants. Such practices, Kindt compellingly argues, would have provided the ancients with tangible, everyday encounters with hybridity. This interesting chapter concludes with a well-illustrated study of the Minotaur in the work of Pablo Picasso.

The final chapter examines the idea of metamorphosis: the fluid boundary in myth as humans can transform into animals. Using the shearwaters of Diomedea as a case study, Kindt adeptly investigates how such transformations challenge our definition of the human and elucidates the connection between metamorphosis and metaphor. Here we once again encounter the concept of hybridity, since the victims of metamorphosis possess animal bodies, but retain their human minds. Kindt does not limit her analysis to the shearwaters; she also brings other Graeco-Roman stories of metamorphosis into the discussion as well as Kafka’s tale about a man’s transformation into an animal (The Metamorphosis [1915]).

The book’s chapters constitute ten different thematic strands skilfully woven together in the conclusions. The analysis of each strand is not meant to be exhaustive; it is meaningful, captivating and to the point. Kindt’s thought-provoking and highly engaging work will appeal to scholars and general educated readers alike.

CENTAURS AND SNAKE-KINGS

McInerney’s compelling and thoroughly researched book delves into the subject of hybrids and hybridity in the Greek world. The author explores the nature, importance and position of hybrids in Greek culture, skilfully demonstrating how hybridity is related to human-animal entanglement and the ‘openness’ of Greek society. In this fascinating analysis, he argues that hybrids are essential tools of the Greek imagination: they represent ‘a tension between the familiar and the unexpected’, allowing the Greeks to categorise the unknown. McInerney’s writing style is lively and engaging. The depth of his analysis is noteworthy, and the extent to which he employs comparative material from other cultures is impressive.

The book is divided into eight chapters that facilitate a methodical investigation and in-depth analysis of the subject. The illustrations are well chosen, but the small size of some photos of vases does not assist the discussion of their iconography (e.g. 4.3, 4.5, 5.8).

The first chapter serves as an introduction, successfully employing the Sphinx to orient readers towards the concepts of hybrid and hybridity. As McInerney perceptively observes, monstrosity is not inextricably linked to hybridity, but even benign hybrids can become menacing. He also provides a useful overview of the interpretations that have been proposed for the Sphinx. Particularly important is the section exploring the origins of hybridity, which is viewed as a manifestation of human-animal entanglement. McInerney reaches back to the Palaeolithic era to trace the emergence of the human-animal blending rooted in the powerful human-animal bond.

The second chapter masterfully elucidates the complexities of hybridity. McInerney explains how the essence of the monstrous lies in its ability to evoke fear and violate established boundaries, effectively demonstrating that a hybrid is not necessarily a monster. He defines hybrids as anomalies merging the familiar with the bizarre, highlighting the polyvalence of Greek hybrids. Through the brilliant analysis of disarticulation, he identifies the hybrid as a blend of human and animal parts: each individual component is recognisable, but their combination results in a novel composition. Especially noteworthy are the sections investigating hybridity within the work of Herodotus and in funerary assemblages attesting to the hybrid identities of the deceased as well as the discussion on the bucranium.

Chapter 3 examines the impact of eastern Mediterranean cultures on the creation of Greek hybrids. The breadth of comparative material assembled is remarkable. McInerney argues that Greek hybridity was a result of intense Mediterranean connectivity enabling the Greeks to incorporate Near Eastern and Egyptian influences into their culture. Prominent examples include the griffin, the Chimaira and Pegasus. The fact that the Greek griffin does not retain its Near Eastern meaning is indicative of the transformations that can occur when foreign motifs are introduced to a new culture, losing their original context to gain local significance. Another example is the Egyptian goddess Taweret, who was transformed into the Minoan Genius. McInerney’s stimulating exploration of Egyptian influences on Greek hybridityFootnote ¹ concludes that the Greek hybrids did not derive directly from Egypt, but from the iconographic traditions of the Near East. The chapter culminates in a compelling analysis of the Minotaur, tracing its origins to the Minoan bull cult and its subsequent metamorphosis into the hybrid monster during the era of Mycenaean hegemony.

The fourth chapter identifies Greek culture as an essential participant in a vast, interconnected Eastern Mediterranean network. McInerney notes the special place of the Aegean region within the Mediterranean, a ‘liquid continent’ enabling contact and communication. Focusing on the sea, he explores the realm of sea monsters and Nereids. His discussion on the latter is profound and illuminating: he convincingly argues that, despite being fully anthropomorphic, the Nereids display a light hybridity defined by the proximity of non-human attributes. Particularly notable is the classification and interpretation of Nereid names from Hesiod’s Theogony, which McInerney ingeniously associates with the founding of Greek colonies overseas. As he points out, the movement of diverse groups facilitated the emergence of hybrids as a medium to articulate Greek interactions with foreign populations, constituting a mode of cultural exchange. McInerney draws attention to Naukratis, Samos and Cyprus, as cultural contact zones, designating Cyprus (‘the hybrid island’) as a vital intersection through which cultural blending was transmitted into the Aegean. These Near Eastern motifs were ultimately recontextualised and reworked within Greek settings, often assuming entirely new forms.

The following three chapters centre on specific hybrid types as case studies, clarifying the complexities of hybridity with impressive analytical depth and flair. Beginning with griffins, Gorgons and satyrs, McInerney astutely investigates the link between wondrous objects and composite beings, exploring how the Greeks used distorted, part-human figures to navigate the anxieties of gender and the boundaries of existence. A central focus is the theme of ‘gendered hybridity’: the Gorgons and female demons representing a demonisation of women are juxtaposed with satyrs, comic yet extreme caricatures of masculinity, defined by sexual impulse. Equally significant is the discussion of metamorphosis as a process of transformation emphasising the potential instability of the human condition. The brilliant chapter on Centaurs presents the horse as the definitive case study for distinguishing between the monster and the hybrid, since the equine form is normally defined by its intimacy with humanity. This connection was forged through the transition from chariot driving to horse riding, creating a sense of ‘fusion’ between rider and beast. Centaurs emerge as the most flexible illustration of this hybridity, functioning as symbols of hypersexuality, lacking self-control, displaying both human and animal behaviour. McInerney offers a stimulating interpretation of the morphology of the Chimaira, suggesting that its hybrid nature reflects the fraught relations of Corinth (Pegasus) with the neighbouring cities of Nemea (lion), Argos (snake) and Sikyon (goat). Chapter 7 addresses the subject of human-snake hybrids, which are considered a uniquely Athenian invention, serving as a physical manifestation of autochthony for the Athenians. Especially notable is McInerney’s identification of the Acropolis ‘Bluebeard’ as a representation of the Tritopatores, ancestral deities of Athens linked to the notion of Athenian autochthony. He argues that they were conceived as manifestations of the winds, interpreting the tripartite form of the Bluebeard as a personification of Zephyros, Boreas and Notos.

Chapter 8 expands the definition of hybridity, demonstrating that it encompasses more than a conflation of human and animal forms. It explores the anxieties of Greek society when confronted with sexual ambivalence. McInerney shrewdly observes that the Hermaphroditos myth shifts from a representation of hybridity combining both sexes to a symbolic portrayal of the conjugal union between male and female. By examining the transformations of Teiresias and Kaineus, he identifies a conceptual space that allowed the Greek imagination to defy normative sexual binaries, questioning the rigid categories of conventional social thought.

The final chapter argues that hybridity was a central component of the organisational systems used to categorise information in the post-classical era. Ethnographic writing evolved into a method for ranking humans and animals, facilitating the conceptualisation of the sub-human during the Roman period. Functioning as a conceptual mirror image of the Mediterranean, India provided a distant space where the limits of nature could be tested. Accounts of monstrous humans helped define the Mediterranean as the centre of recognisable humanity, while physical variation established a boundary between the known world and the foreign ‘other’. By relegating the deformed and ugly to the periphery, the genres of ethnography and paradoxography employed the contrast between anomaly and normality to uphold a sense of global order.

McInerney’s book offers immense rewards for scholars interested in the subject. Its depth and specialised nature may be less accessible to general educated readers. The richness of comparative material and the author’s bold, incisive interpretations are major strengths of this work. The theme of hybridity has also been examined in E. Aston’s exceptional, now-classic book on the hybrid deities of Greek religion (Mixanthropoi [2011]). McInerney approaches the subject from a different vantage point, exploring how prolonged and multifaceted cultural exchange across the Mediterranean influenced the creation of hybrids. His work constitutes a significant, stimulating contribution to the study of hybridity, ancient Greek culture and human–animal entanglement in antiquity.

VERMIN IN GRAECO-ROMAN ANTIQUITY

In the beginning of this book Heitmann-Gordon explains why he chose such an unconventional subject. He argues that we must examine the aspects of existence we routinely dismiss, as even the ‘mildly irritating’ possesses a history that can reveal hidden cultural values and analogies between past and present. He points out that vermin are useful for studying ancient culture since they do not fit into typical categories, and identifies a significant imbalance within Human–Animal Studies (HAS), noting the tendency to focus on ‘culturally important’ animals that hold economic or emotional value and ignore smaller, non-utilitarian creatures. Heitmann-Gordon’s choice of subject matter is therefore courageous, timely and, since vermin have not received much attention from ancient historians, a welcome addition to the field. The first chapter also introduces the concepts of ‘pest’ and ‘vermin’ as ambiguous, since they are not based on biological classifications, but are largely influenced by personal experiences and cultural backgrounds. Heitmann-Gordon defines the primary objective of his book as an investigation into the cultural history and significance of vermin in Graeco-Roman antiquity. Particularly interesting is his argument that vermin represent a unique category that he terms ‘an Other within’: they exist outside of human control but occupy our most intimate spaces.

Notably, in the second chapter the author observes that the Greeks did not have a single, specific word for vermin as a group. The most relevant terms he identifies are δάκετα (‘biters’) and ἑρπετά (‘creeping things’). The root for the English word vermin is Latin (vermis), but it means ‘worm’ and never functioned as a general term for all pests. Latin texts showed a stronger preoccupation with pests than Greek sources, but lacked a direct equivalent to the modern collective noun for pests until the seventh century ce, when Isidorus of Seville expanded the definition of vermis to encompass a variety of harmful and disgusting creatures. Throughout this chapter, as elsewhere in the book, Heitmann-Gordon’s meticulous and thorough study of textual sources becomes particularly evident. To complement his investigation of ancient texts, he ventures into a discussion of vermin in Graeco-Roman art. He rightly observes that several of these creatures are absent from art, interpreting their omission as the combined result of aesthetics, lack of empathy, a sense of revulsion and the artistic challenges posed by their small size and swift motion. His interpretation of the ‘guardian animals’ on the Berlin pyxis lid (n. 98) is unlikely, since, as he acknowledges, they are lacking spots; the statement that pet cheetahs are quite frequently attested in Athenian vase-painting is also inaccurate. I wish he had noted that the scorpion of the London phiale (pp. 34–5) is playing a double-flute, like the mice he discusses later in the book. On the whole, however, Heitmann-Gordon has made a respectable effort to incorporate ancient art into his research; the results justify the endeavour.

The remaining four chapters explore the structural position of vermin in the Graeco-Roman world through four distinct lenses: damage and utility, disgust and fascination, order and disorder, empathy and alterity. These constitute the backbone of the book, where the author provides a thorough and penetrating analysis of the subject. In the first of them he convincingly argues that the capacity for destruction is a defining and often dominant characteristic of these animals that were generally considered harmful and useless, viewed as annoying pests that deserve to be killed. He demonstrates that in genres like fable they can be presented in a positive light, discussing their use in medicine or in practical applications. This did not apply to the smallest creatures that were generally considered useless.

Particularly thought-provoking is the section on disgust and fascination. Ancient perceptions of ‘vermin’ were defined by a complex interplay between visceral disgust and fascination. While blood-sucking parasites, small house pests and creatures associated with filth triggered the most intense revulsion, larger animals often had symbolic significance or even lived as pets. References to artistic evidence illuminate Heitmann-Gordon’s exploration of the subject. However, his reference to the black-figure skyphos showing ‘a youth hunting with a god and a weasel’ (p. 69) is problematic. The word ‘god’ is a typographical error. The vase depicts two male figures and a Molossian dog barking at a marten-like animal that may be an ichneumon (S. Fritzilas, ‘Ichneumon und Hund’, in: B. Schmaltz and M. Söldner [edd.], Griechische Keramik im kulturellen Kontext [2003]). The scene is not related to hunting, but the author may have been misled by a reference to huntsmen in the Beazley Archive. The marten-like animal is wearing a collar, so it is a domestic animal, and, if indeed an ichneumon, then the rare exotic pet of an Athenian aristocrat. This is another example of certain ‘pests’ becoming pets, as Heitmann-Gordon observes elsewhere.

The chapter on order and disorder is a delight to read for its compelling treatment of divination, oneiromancy and the aeschrological use of vermin. As Heitmann-Gordon elucidates, vermin provided humans with metaphors for order and disorder. By representing raw nature that threatened the order of the city, they helped define the boundaries of humanity. They were associated with the divine through the belief that they served as divinatory signs and could be fully controlled by gods.Footnote ² Their use as insults functions in the same manner as any other animal-based insults employed to degrade human opponents. A notable omission in Heitmann-Gordon’s intriguing reference to temple snakes is the well-known story of the disappearance of Athena’s sacred snake from the Acropolis, which was interpreted as a sign that the goddess had abandoned Athens ahead of the Persian invasion.

The final chapter investigates whether empathy and appreciation for vermin existed in the Graeco-Roman world. While it is not surprising to read that genuine empathy for vermin is rare, the value of this chapter lies in the fact that Heitmann-Gordon’s research uncovers the subtle complexities of the subject, such as the playful empathy found in animal funerary epigrams, the anthropomorphisation of mice in art and literature, and the lack of sympathy or compassion for vermin.

The book’s conclusions successfully address its opening questions by revealing that ‘verminousness’ in ancient thought was defined by a hierarchy based on physical size and spatial proximity to the human body, ranging from internal parasites at the base to symbolically complex creatures like snakes or weasels at the top. Graeco-Roman culture viewed vermin as creatures whose non-compliance with human order granted them an essentially ironical role.

Heitmann-Gordon’s work is thorough and insightful, marked by a deep engagement with the literature and thought-provoking interpretation of the evidence. The abundant footnotes provide a wealth of references to ancient sources and modern scholarship. While the scarcity of primary evidence makes for a slim volume, and despite certain limitations in the analysis of artistic evidence, the book’s contribution to the field of animal studies remains undeniable.

In conclusion, I am pleased to recommend all three works as significant contributions to the burgeoning field of animal studies in antiquity. Each offers a distinct and valuable perspective that deepens our understanding of the ancient world.