If you want to read an elegant and well-researched monograph on Lucretius’ use of satire, T. H. M. Gellar-Goad has written this book for you. His ambition is to convince us that without the extensive use of satiric elements, Lucretius would not be Lucretius at all. As he argues, the way Lucretius uses a personal voice, builds up and undermines his didactic persona, distances himself from the mob, mocks his adversaries (non-Epicurean philosophers, the personified Religio etc.), caricatures theories he wants to refute, satirises human attitudes he wishes to be avoided (fear of death, erotic love), etc., makes him almost a Roman satirist, and his didactic poem almost a ‘member’ (3 and passim — an unfortunate word) of the genre of Roman satire. Although the demonstration of satiric elements in Lucretius is not an entirely new approach (see the book's numerous references to earlier literature), this book is the first systematic treatment of the presence of the satiric mode in Lucretius, interpreting the whole didactic project in the context of the Roman satiric tradition. Accordingly, the question that emerges is not whether there are satiric elements in the DRN (this is self-evident), but whether the poem can be read as an almost-satiric project in its entirety. G.-G., being exceptionally familiar with the sources of Epicureanism and the Greco-Roman satire, does his best to argue for the latter.

Fortunately, the author has chosen a multifaceted mode of argument. The Introduction is a useful overview of his aims, even if I would be more cautious in opposing ‘straightforward’ and ‘satiric’ (16; variants on this opposition occur repeatedly: see 128; 162; etc.). Satire, as we learn from this very monograph, is one of Lucretius’ ‘serious’ weapons: satiric passages like the caricature of Anaxagoras’ views (cf. the ‘laughing atoms’ at DRN 1.915–20 — hence the title) or the satiric representation of the fear of death and the erotic infatuation (Books 3 and 4) do not change the ‘straightforward’ character of this didactic poem. The key difficulty, as chapter 1 itself emphasises, is that the whole endeavour undertaken here depends on our definition of (Roman) satire. Defining generic features is not easy (even if one cannot agree with G.-G. that satire is more protean than other genres, 22), and, embarrassingly, ‘[n]ot all satire is constantly satiric’ (17). The way out of this labyrinth is provided by the subsequent, ‘intertextual’ chapters, including a brilliant discussion (ch. 2) of Lucretius’ systematic allusions to earlier Roman satire (with significant new material on satiric echoes in Lucretius and revealing case studies, such as the discussion of the satiric background of Lucretius’ kataskopia) and a rich treatment of DRN's reception in later Roman satire (ch. 3), showing how the literary memory of Lucretius’ didactic pose (containing satirising traits) merges into later satirists’ didactic poses (containing philosophising traits). One of the few things I missed from this excellent chapter is a discussion of the Catullan intertextuality present in Juvenal 12, a satire which features a hero called ‘Catullus’ throwing his — highly Catullan — uestis purpurea into the sea (Juv. 12.38–9, cf. Cat. 64.49–50 with T. Geue, Juvenal and the Poetics of Anonymity (2017), 184–8). Adding this to the Lucretian echoes revealed by G.-G. (115), we spot a combined (Lucretio-Catullan) allusion.

Having proved that Lucretius’ poem is deeply embedded into the tradition of Roman satire, the rest of the book delves into the text of DRN to find as many traces of the satiric mode as possible. The core of the argument is ch. 4, which surveys the most important satiric elements, such as mocking non-Epicurean views or caricaturing ‘ridiculous’ human behaviour, and interprets them as parts of a coherent system held together by Lucretius’ satirising language and style, the sophisticated construction of a divided audience, and various satiric allusions. I would not be satisfied, however, if the volume were not crowned with the magnificent chapter 5 which, finally, sheds light on intersections (rather than ‘tensions’ as its title suggests) between satiric mode and Epicurean didactic, both trying to show a way out of the ‘misguided, flawed, and intellectually and morally abject’ (183) world we all live in. Satire, as G.-G. rightly states, is thus part of the Lucretian ‘philosophical initiation’ (178). In my view, this is the culmination of G.-G.'s argument, justifying his satiric reading of the DRN. Less essential is chapter 6 which discusses ‘civic satire’ in Lucretius without finding any scene in DRN that contains even a minimal trace of the typically satiric representation of city life. Doubtlessly, Lucretius could have composed a funny scene mocking the hustle and bustle of Roman streets. Sadly, he did not. (Rather, he used this satirico-urban imagery — probably with an Ennian echo — to reinforce his representation of the atomic motion, cf. 56. One could add the ‘atomic motion’ of the busybody and the poet in Hor. Sat. 1.9.)

All in all, G.-G.'s Laughing Atoms is just the book on Lucretius and satire we needed. I have one bibliographical quibble: H. Blumenberg's Schiffbruch mit Zuschauer (1979) could significantly have enriched the interpretation of the ‘birth scene’ of the Lucretian satirico-didactic persona — suaue mari magno — so important for the present study.