Liverpool University Press (2025) h/b 400pp £104 (ISBN9781836245124)
This is a curate’s egg of a book, the product of a recent spate of works on Virgil’s Dido and the fourth book of the Aeneid. The intended audience is not entirely clear. On the one hand, the book is heavily annotated with an extensive range of specialized scholarship in several languages, and absent a paperback edition (which I would highly recommend), the cost (especially for print on demand) will be prohibitive for students and a general readership. On the other hand, for a more advanced readership, there is the inevitable question of what this Aen. 4 offers to distinguish it from the many other available larger editions of Virgil’s shortest book. Given how much scholarly labor has been extended on Virgilian epic, one admires the bravery and appreciates the effort of those who endeavor to add something of note to the long bibliography, especially on this scale. And there is much here that will be of value to diverse audiences.
The layout invites comment. The book’s format is not particularly user-friendly, especially for the less experienced. The preface notes, ‘Within each part, the text is presented in shortish portions, each with a translation and corresponding bespoke literary essay; I do not in addition include the implied complete text in continuous form. Readers may wish to have a complete text of Aeneid 4 to hand as they work through the Commentary’. The author then goes on to note where his text differs from Mynors’ OCT and Conte’s Teubner, observing that they (and Geymonat) ‘supply apparatuses that are sufficient for most purposes’ (one wonders what purposes would render Geymonat’s apparatus insufficient). This dubiously useful approach offers a good example of where the book occasionally gives the impression that it cannot decide what it wants to be. Readers with little or no Latin will be overwhelmed by the end of the preface; more advanced users will wonder why we cannot simply print a text, especially for an expensive book. All readers may wonder if continuous narrative epic lends itself to the ‘bespoke’ commentary model. The chosen format imposes a more or less artificial structure on Virgil’s book, which can be misleading for students and those less familiar with Augustan epic.
The introduction is arguably the strongest part of the book, especially for those interested in exploring the tragic elements of the Virgilian Dido story. There is much to like about the detailed consideration of the poet’s possible debts to Aristotelian theory (this is where the author’s talents are on full display). There are superlative summations and explorations of challenging subjects, with rich material for comparative literature students in particular. Readers with interests in literary theory will profit greatly here. In sum, the introduction could easily be assigned as a standalone piece for courses on tragedy and tragic reception.
The commentary consists principally of several more or less extended, densely footnoted essays on a series of verses, with occasional ‘Supplementary Notes’. Especially since there is no continuous text (‘implied’ or not), Virgil’s book is treated more or less in a stream of consciousness, with a surprisingly marked lack of discipline. There is something of a potpourri here when it comes to content. The comments oscillate between close readings of selected verses or words and consideration of the Virgilian reception (there is a lot of Shakespeare and Dryden). Sometimes scholarship is engaged with in the main body of the essays, and sometimes it is relegated to footnotes (or the aforementioned supplements). There are more parallel passages than the preface would lead one to expect, but they too are cited rather haphazardly.
The title of the book makes clear the interpretive agenda of the book. Reading Aen. 4 through a tragic lens offers a valid, indeed eminently suitable approach to the text, but (especially in the commentary genre) there can be pitfalls, especially when the text runs the risk of becoming the servant of the thesis. For example, perhaps because the avowed focus of the book is on Dido’s story as tragedy, the analyses display a certain hesitation to engage without prejudice with the comic elements of the book that have been noted since antiquity and highlighted in recent scholarship. Some possible Plautine influences detected by previous scholars are dismissed peremptorily with the verdict, ‘surely mistakenly.’ Occasionally, there is a hint of what strikes one as disagreement for the sake of disagreement, admittedly a tendency that is always hard to resist when writing commentaries.
The stated models for the commentary format include David West’s and John Barsby’s editions of Horatian lyric and Ovidian elegy. But the elegant style of literary-critical annotation on display in those (far shorter) volumes is wedded throughout here with such layering of bibliography, pervasive engagement with small details of the sort usually reserved for traditional philological commentaries and journal articles, and (more or less helpful) censorious engagement with other scholarly works that one risks losing the forest for the trees. This book assumes much of its readers. More elementary audiences (and readers from fields other than classical philology) will wonder if we really need to cite Housman’s Latin notes on Manilius (especially in an edition that provides translations of lines from Aen. 4), or to pepper the text with references to the medieval Aeneas tradition or Elizabethan drama for no readily apparent reason (especially in an already long book).
In a work of this length and complexity, it is nearly impossible to catch every error. There are bibliographical infelicities, mostly regarding monograph dates, where reprints are sometimes listed misleadingly and without mention of the originals (cf., e.g., Bailey’s Religion in Virgil and Otis’ seminal study, which the unsuspecting will think date respectively to the 60s and the 90s, Page’s Aen., which they will assume is from the 1950s, and Fordyce’s Aen. 7-8, which is dated here to 2001). The correct date for Austin’s Aen. 2 = 1964; the first edition Conte Teubner Aen. = 2009. While the range of bibliography is admirable, one misses mention of Bertha Tilly’s fine London edition of Aen. 4, and the important work on Virgil’s Dido by Gerhard Binder. Likewise, more use of Jim O’Hara’s Focus edition of the book would have been welcome.
Readers of this commentary who come to Gaskin’s notes with a strong background in classics will profit from the excitement of revisiting familiar problems from a splendid book of Virgil. There are excellent and valuable explications here on a number of difficult passages from Aen. 4 (notably, the question of when exactly Dido decides to commit suicide is handled with admirable sophistication and welcome insight). Readers with less experience in the study of Latin literature are likely to be overwhelmed by the dense and daunting content, and the less than pellucid format. But for them, too, patience and endurance will allow for a rewarding visit to a well-traversed grove whose trees unfailingly fascinate, precisely because they rebel against precise taxonomical classification.
Lee Fratantuono
Maynooth University ([email protected])
DIDO’S TRAGEDY: A Literary Commentary on Virgil’s Fourth Aeneid
Liverpool University Press (2025) h/b 400pp £104 (ISBN9781836245124)
This is a curate’s egg of a book, the product of a recent spate of works on Virgil’s Dido and the fourth book of the Aeneid. The intended audience is not entirely clear. On the one hand, the book is heavily annotated with an extensive range of specialized scholarship in several languages, and absent a paperback edition (which I would highly recommend), the cost (especially for print on demand) will be prohibitive for students and a general readership. On the other hand, for a more advanced readership, there is the inevitable question of what this Aen. 4 offers to distinguish it from the many other available larger editions of Virgil’s shortest book. Given how much scholarly labor has been extended on Virgilian epic, one admires the bravery and appreciates the effort of those who endeavor to add something of note to the long bibliography, especially on this scale. And there is much here that will be of value to diverse audiences.
The layout invites comment. The book’s format is not particularly user-friendly, especially for the less experienced. The preface notes, ‘Within each part, the text is presented in shortish portions, each with a translation and corresponding bespoke literary essay; I do not in addition include the implied complete text in continuous form. Readers may wish to have a complete text of Aeneid 4 to hand as they work through the Commentary’. The author then goes on to note where his text differs from Mynors’ OCT and Conte’s Teubner, observing that they (and Geymonat) ‘supply apparatuses that are sufficient for most purposes’ (one wonders what purposes would render Geymonat’s apparatus insufficient). This dubiously useful approach offers a good example of where the book occasionally gives the impression that it cannot decide what it wants to be. Readers with little or no Latin will be overwhelmed by the end of the preface; more advanced users will wonder why we cannot simply print a text, especially for an expensive book. All readers may wonder if continuous narrative epic lends itself to the ‘bespoke’ commentary model. The chosen format imposes a more or less artificial structure on Virgil’s book, which can be misleading for students and those less familiar with Augustan epic.
The introduction is arguably the strongest part of the book, especially for those interested in exploring the tragic elements of the Virgilian Dido story. There is much to like about the detailed consideration of the poet’s possible debts to Aristotelian theory (this is where the author’s talents are on full display). There are superlative summations and explorations of challenging subjects, with rich material for comparative literature students in particular. Readers with interests in literary theory will profit greatly here. In sum, the introduction could easily be assigned as a standalone piece for courses on tragedy and tragic reception.
The commentary consists principally of several more or less extended, densely footnoted essays on a series of verses, with occasional ‘Supplementary Notes’. Especially since there is no continuous text (‘implied’ or not), Virgil’s book is treated more or less in a stream of consciousness, with a surprisingly marked lack of discipline. There is something of a potpourri here when it comes to content. The comments oscillate between close readings of selected verses or words and consideration of the Virgilian reception (there is a lot of Shakespeare and Dryden). Sometimes scholarship is engaged with in the main body of the essays, and sometimes it is relegated to footnotes (or the aforementioned supplements). There are more parallel passages than the preface would lead one to expect, but they too are cited rather haphazardly.
The title of the book makes clear the interpretive agenda of the book. Reading Aen. 4 through a tragic lens offers a valid, indeed eminently suitable approach to the text, but (especially in the commentary genre) there can be pitfalls, especially when the text runs the risk of becoming the servant of the thesis. For example, perhaps because the avowed focus of the book is on Dido’s story as tragedy, the analyses display a certain hesitation to engage without prejudice with the comic elements of the book that have been noted since antiquity and highlighted in recent scholarship. Some possible Plautine influences detected by previous scholars are dismissed peremptorily with the verdict, ‘surely mistakenly.’ Occasionally, there is a hint of what strikes one as disagreement for the sake of disagreement, admittedly a tendency that is always hard to resist when writing commentaries.
The stated models for the commentary format include David West’s and John Barsby’s editions of Horatian lyric and Ovidian elegy. But the elegant style of literary-critical annotation on display in those (far shorter) volumes is wedded throughout here with such layering of bibliography, pervasive engagement with small details of the sort usually reserved for traditional philological commentaries and journal articles, and (more or less helpful) censorious engagement with other scholarly works that one risks losing the forest for the trees. This book assumes much of its readers. More elementary audiences (and readers from fields other than classical philology) will wonder if we really need to cite Housman’s Latin notes on Manilius (especially in an edition that provides translations of lines from Aen. 4), or to pepper the text with references to the medieval Aeneas tradition or Elizabethan drama for no readily apparent reason (especially in an already long book).
In a work of this length and complexity, it is nearly impossible to catch every error. There are bibliographical infelicities, mostly regarding monograph dates, where reprints are sometimes listed misleadingly and without mention of the originals (cf., e.g., Bailey’s Religion in Virgil and Otis’ seminal study, which the unsuspecting will think date respectively to the 60s and the 90s, Page’s Aen., which they will assume is from the 1950s, and Fordyce’s Aen. 7-8, which is dated here to 2001). The correct date for Austin’s Aen. 2 = 1964; the first edition Conte Teubner Aen. = 2009. While the range of bibliography is admirable, one misses mention of Bertha Tilly’s fine London edition of Aen. 4, and the important work on Virgil’s Dido by Gerhard Binder. Likewise, more use of Jim O’Hara’s Focus edition of the book would have been welcome.
Readers of this commentary who come to Gaskin’s notes with a strong background in classics will profit from the excitement of revisiting familiar problems from a splendid book of Virgil. There are excellent and valuable explications here on a number of difficult passages from Aen. 4 (notably, the question of when exactly Dido decides to commit suicide is handled with admirable sophistication and welcome insight). Readers with less experience in the study of Latin literature are likely to be overwhelmed by the dense and daunting content, and the less than pellucid format. But for them, too, patience and endurance will allow for a rewarding visit to a well-traversed grove whose trees unfailingly fascinate, precisely because they rebel against precise taxonomical classification.
Lee Fratantuono
Maynooth University ([email protected])