In his introduction, T. acknowledges the puzzling lack of sophistication of the Ephesiaca (Eph.) in contrast with the other surviving novels. T.’s answer is not to try to explain its anomalous nature by invoking further anomalies (e.g. the epitome-theory), but to argue instead that the Eph. should be viewed through the lens of paraliterature, a term denoting work that is ‘formally simple and lacking in typical literary sophistication’ (p. 5 and Chapter 7). This quality (which T. thinks is integral to the original text and not a product of epitomisation, Chapter 8) makes the Eph. unique among the surviving novelistic texts, and draws it into closer alignment with (for example) The Story of Apollonius King of Tyre.
Paraliterary works are marked by simplicity in form, a focus on plot and what T. calls ‘thematic intertextuality,’ none of which should be construed as signs of authorial incompetence. On the contrary: T. argues persuasively that the author of the Eph. is in control of his medium. This can be seen in his careful management of intratextual relationships within the narrative, in the development of character, in the progress in plot and in the novel's consistent recalling of themes and ideas from canonical texts such as the Odyssey and Platonic dialogues on love – a technique that T. dubs ‘thematic intertextuality’. In fact, T. argues that the author exploits the Odyssey not only thematically, but structurally and stylistically too: Xenophon ‘writes like Homer’ using ‘epic prosified formulae’ (pp. 14–15). This broader-brushstroke evocation of models distinguishes the Eph. from the other novels (as well as most post-classical literature); but for T., it also brings it into the orbit of other, thriving material such as mime, pantomime and progymnasmata. T. quite rightly calls for a more capacious model of intertextuality that can encompass looser allusive strategies like this, in addition to the more precise verbal echoing that has, more narrowly, been designated a key intertextual marker by scholars of Latin poetry in particular.
T.’s introduction is admirably clear, efficient and thoughtful, not only equipping the reader with a road map for the chapters ahead, but guiding him/her carefully through the theoretical scaffolding around which his edifice will be built. Here he explains, methodically and with nuance, the critical positions that have shaped his interpretation, in particular studies of characterisation, gender studies and intertextuality. One of the strengths of T.’s approach is to see how literary devices are embedded in ancient intellectual culture more holistically. Intertextuality is inseparable from the wider reception of models; thus Xenophon's allusions to the Odyssey are enmeshed with the tradition of moralising exegesis of the Homeric poems. T. also challenges the fallacy of assuming that simple texts correlate to low-status readers in the real world. After all, it is not as if academics do not read trash or watch soap (a modern analogy that surfaces in Chapter 7) – and as T. points out, ‘there is no material proof of the existence in the Imperial era of such uneducated readers’ (p. 19). We should assume, therefore, that readers of the Eph. were educated people.
Chapters 1–3 focus on aspects of Xenophon's plot that challenge the view that Eph. is the work of incompetent authorship. T. argues that the protagonists’ approach to love undergoes change, which is highlighted structurally through the contrast between the two erotic nights that frame the narrative. Through careful analysis of both scenes, T. tracks the development from purely physical gratification (à la Ares and Aphrodite in Od. 8) on their wedding-night, when even the furniture shudders with the frisson of luxury and sexual excitement, to mutual reflection on the preservation of their fidelity on the night of their reunion (à la Odysseus and Penelope). This chapter provides good examples of how T.’s insistence on the intersection between intertextuality and reception pays rich dividends, for example what matters most is the tendency in antiquity to treat the Ares and Aphrodite episode as a moralising exemplum that warned readers against licentious behaviour. This enables Xenophon to insinuate a didactic agenda into his narrative. These chapters are full of thought-provoking re-interpretations of Xenophon's work. T., for example, argues against the prevailing view (e.g. T. Whitmarsh [2011]) that the protagonists are reintegrated into society at the end of the novel; instead, they achieve an ‘exclusive society of love’ (p. 49), their independence foreshadowed by the weird love story of Aegialeus and Thelxinoe in Book 5. Apollo's oracle – the apparent unfulfillment of which has fuelled accusations of authorial inconsistency – is reinterpreted as a version of Teiresias’ prophecy from the Odyssey, a prediction extending beyond the temporal reach of the narrative. Although T. resorts partly here to some ‘close verbal echo’ types of allusion which, he admits, are rare in the Eph., the poetic nature of the oracle might be regarded as a special case (p. 64), though it requires something more like the eye of faith (and reaching Chapter 5) to see just how it all works out in the Eph. itself.
In Chapter 5, T. shows how the presence of Egypt as both a real and a symbolic space in the narrative is linked with the protagonists’ yearning for a love that will continue beyond death, which in turn (this one more tentative, in my view) prompts the reader to contemplate the couple's future journey to Egypt, beyond the novel's last page. The repetition that is such a striking feature of Xenophon's plot is interpreted in Chapter 3 as a deliberate literary strategy to generate ‘repeat-suspense’ (‘readers begin to enjoy the pleasure of waiting for well-known events’, p. 88). In Chapter 4, T. explores the novel's thematic intertextuality with Plato, showing how it enriches the sense of the characters’ growing spirituality (defined here as ‘recognition of one's own psyche’, p. 97) and mutuality, and imbues both characters, especially Habrocomes, with ‘a philosophical dimension’ (p. 122). Here T. explores the novel's inversion of normative patterns in sexual relationships and its original contribution to the contemporary debate on sexuality through exploring mutual love within both homosexual and heterosexual relationships. An appendix on the identity of Xenophon and the date of the novel brings the monograph to a close.
T. has done a remarkable job. The style throughout is admirably unpretentious, lucid, jargon-free (technical terms are usefully explained) and undogmatic. He concludes by revisiting his mission-statement, which was to ‘show the need to approach the Ephesiaca from a different lens than that which has been adopted by most scholars so far, namely the lens of paraliterature rather than literary sophistication’ (pp. 208–9). He modestly hopes that the book will draw some readers’ attention to the existence of paraliterary narratives in the ancient world, and stimulate further discussion. It certainly will: I finished with lots of new thoughts and questions, for example what insights might texts like the Eph. offer us into the sociology of reading in antiquity? Should we imagine that the Eph. was somewhere on the spectrum of the type of holiday-reading avowed by Lucian in the Vera historia? Does it say something more substantial about the reader? (T. touches on these questions in Chapter 7, and I would love to hear more.) Is this novel … funny? Could it be poking fun at more protracted, highbrow novels? How does ‘paraliterature’ square with the trashier, kitschy dimensions of some of the ‘Big Five’, notably Achilles Tatius’ novel? T.’s fine monograph may not address these particular questions in depth, since they lie well beyond its scope, but it certainly stimulates them – and that is great. Whether or not one is entirely convinced by all T.’s new interpretations of Xenophon's narrative, one thing is certain: this book will invigorate the vein of Ephesiaca-studies and open up this much-maligned novel to the fresh and exciting new perspectives of the author's desire.