Ad aprire questo volume è l’eccezionale testo Über Leib und Seele di Max Scheler sinora rimasto inedito. Seguono le interviste a Roger Scruton e Pierangelo Sequeri. Nella storia dell’Occidente il concetto di anima ha radici profonde. Esso sembra essere in uso principalmente in un contesto cristiano, la sua origine però è contemporaneo l’anima ha però subito una trasformazione, per cui pare lecito parlarne in contesti religiosi mentre sembra sempre più opportuno trattare di mente o cervello in altri ambiti. Questo volume, (...) attraverso una corale di contributi, vuole offrire uno studio sul tema dell’anima, mettendo in evidenza la trasformazione che nella storia della cultura tale concetto ha subito. Sono qui inclusi gli studi di Gianfranco Basti, Christopher Hughes, Joseph Karbowski, Andrea Lavazza, Antonio Petagine, Vittorio Possenti, Josef M. Seifert. Chiude il volume una ricca sezione di cronache di convegni e testi di recente pubblicazione. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:On Choosing a Spouse:Aeneid 7.378–84 and Callimachus' Epigram 1Pamela R. BleischAeneid 7.378–84 and the Possibilities of Poetic ImitationIn Aeneid 7 Amata, under the influence of the fury Allecto, rebukes Latinus for betrothing his daughter to a faithless Trojan and urges that, if a foreign bridegroom is required, Turnus fits the bill. Latinus, however, remains unmoved by her argument. The Queen, driven mad by Allecto's serpent, is afflicted with (...) Bacchic frenzy, and hides her daughter in the mountain forests. As the poison of Allecto's serpent takes hold, Amata is likened to a top whipped on by boys at play (Aeneid 7.378–84):ceu quondam torto volitans sub verbere turbo,quem pueri magno in gyro vacua atria circumintenti ludo exercent—ille actus habenacurvatis fertur spatiis; stupet inscia supraimpubesque manus mirata volubile buxum;dant animos plagae: non cursu segnior illoper medias urbes agitur populosque ferocis.Iliad 14.413 has been cited as the model for Vergil's simile.1 There Telemonian Aias, in his duel with Hector, hurls a rock at his opponent, and the force of the blow sends Hector reeling like a spinning top:and spun him around like a top with the stroke, so that he staggered in a circle...2This verse, however, has little appeal for poetic imitation. The Iliadic top simile consists of only two words, in a line which is notoriously awkward—the first clause lacks an object, and the necessary change of subject [End Page 453] is not signalled in the second.3 The grammar of the verse is so elliptical that some have claimed that the simile refers to the stone hurtling in its trajectory, rather than to Hector reeling under the rock's impact.4 Vergil's top simile owes little to Iliad 14.413.Another frequently cited parallel for Aeneid 7.378–84 is Tibullus 1.5, 3–4:namque agor ut per plana citus sola verbere turben quem celer adsueta versat ab arte puer.These lines offer interesting points of comparison, but the question of poetic influence must remain indeterminate. In Tibullus' simile a boy spins a top with a lash over level ground; in Vergil's, boys spin a top with a lash in an empty atrium. The verb agor in Tibullus' elegy, its passive voice thrown into relief by the simplicity of its diction and its prominent position in the line, finds its parallel in Vergil's passage: actus at 380 and agitur at 384. The parallel phrase sub verbere turbo quem / sub verbere turben quem, replicated in exactly the same position, seems to signal influence self–consciously—but is it Tibullus' influence on Vergil, or vice versa? Without a secure date for Tibullus' first book, it is impossible to say who is alluding to whom.A more fruitful line of inquiry is the investigation of the third passage cited as a parallel for the Vergilian top simile: Callimachus Epigram 1 (Anth. Pal. vii.89; Diog. Laert. i.79), 9–10:Now these were boys who at a wide crossing were spinning their swift tops with blows of the lash.5Although Callimachus' epigram has been cited by commentators on Aeneid 7 lines 378–84 ever since Cerda first quoted the passage in 1649, the epigram has been referenced not as a literary model for Vergil's simile, but as evidence in distinguishing the top among the various spinning and [End Page 454] whirling children's toys of the ancient world.6 Yet the Callimachus passage offers some interesting parallels. Callimachus presents a group of boys gathered at the game, rather than a lone boy as in Tibullus' simile. Whereas Tibullus' mise en scène is vague (per plana... sola), Callimachus sets the boys in a descriptive location: the wide crossroad symbolizing the decision–making occasion of the epigram. The empty atrium of Vergil's top simile is equally descriptive and symbolic—the change from Callimachus' exterior, open space to interior, enclosed space is appropriate for the Italian and essentially feminine context of Aeneid 7.7 The correspondence is not exact; Vergil has elaborated on Callimachus' idea. Nonetheless, Vergil's simile of the boys... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Vergil's Aeneid and the Roman Self: Subject and Nation in Literary DiscourseJames J. O'HaraYasmin Syed. Vergil's Aeneid and the Roman Self: Subject and Nation in Literary Discourse. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2005. x + 277 pp. Cloth, $65.This book, which "began as a PhD dissertation at the University of California, Berkeley" (1997), tackles a timely, large, and difficult topic, possibly a topic too difficult to (...) be handled in a satisfactory way in a dissertation and first book. In sum, it makes a decent but flawed contribution on a topic that needs much more work, and in some ways, much more careful work.Two introductory chapters describe the importance of the Aeneid in imperial culture and the role of manipulation of the emotions in ancient theories of rhetoric. In a section called "The Reader's Subject Position," two chapters (both largely on Aeneas and Dido) treat "The Gaze" and "The Spectacle of Emotions." In the next section, on "Gender and Ethnicity," four chapters treat "Gendered Emotions" (before Allecto's visit, Amata is worried, but Turnus is calm; "frenzy, then, is female," 122), "Gendered Ethnicity" (Dido's characterization as Punic "is hard to detect because it is blended with her lover's persona," but it is still significant, 145), "Cleopatra and the Politics of Gendered Ethnicity" ("Augustan representations of Cleopatra form the birth of the Western discourse of orientalism," 177, somewhat overstated, but with interesting ideas about the connection between Cleopatra and Dido), and "Romanitas" (Greek stereotypes, and others, define Romans but are characterized by a "fundamental ambivalence," 203). A brief conclusion ends the book.The interesting argument that Syed makes in the first few chapters is "that the Aeneid used its visuality and its sublime style to appeal to the readers' emotions, and that it created a fictional space for an internal reader within the poem for [End Page 317] 316 whom the poem could articulate an identity by creating various fictional characters as figures of identification" (35). Both these and later chapters offer a mix of the new, the familiar, and, at times, the unconvincing. Two of the book's flaws are actually signaled in the surprising final paragraph, which declares that the book's "most glaring omission has been that of considering more Italian characters and generally of giving more attention to the second half of the poem" (227). Syed says that this "focus" on other aspects of the poem "has been a personal decision on my part," but it is hard to imagine thinking about "subject and nation" in the Aeneid without discussing the relationship between Rome and Italy both in the poem and in Vergil's world; see C. Ando, "Vergil's Italy: ethnography and politics in first-century Rome," pp. 123–42 in D. S. Levene and D. Nelis, eds., Clio and the Poets (Leiden, 2002), whose date is probably too close to Syed's publication date. Presumably there will be a full discussion of Rome and Italy in Alessandro Barchiesi's forthcoming The Geopoetics of Vergil's Aeneid.The lack of attention to Books 7–12 is also a problem, because often the arguments Syed makes about the parts of the Aeneid that she does treat are less convincing when we think about passages in the second half of the poem. The claims that Aeneas has a special ability "to control his emotional responses to the world" (70) and that "in contrast to Aeneas, whose emotions are carefully controlled, many characters in the poem give free rein to their emotions" (87), surely cry out for a consideration of Aeneas' rampage after the death of Pallas in Book 10 and the rage with which he kills Turnus in the poem's final lines. The discussion of Dido's wounds and of Lavinia's association, through allusive simile, with the wound of Menelaus (125–35) is fairly good. But Syed does not mention that Turnus at the start of Aeneid 12 is compared to a wounded deer, or that right before the Lavinia scene Vergil says Turnus "grows sicker with the attempt to heal" (aegrescitque medendo, 45). Lavinia is indeed associated with Menelaus by allusion, but Aeneas... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Virgil: Aeneid, Book XII ed. by Richard TarrantVassiliki PanoussiRichard Tarrant, ed. Virgil: Aeneid, Book XII. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012. ix + 363 pp. Paperback, $36.99.To say that students of Vergil have long awaited a commentary dedicated to Aeneid 12 would be an understatement. W. Warde Fowler’s 1919 volume, The Death of Turnus: Observations on the Twelfth Book of the Aeneid (Oxford), was the last work to fit (...) this description. This is surely in no small measure due to the extremely difficult nature of the task. How would one begin to fit the amount of copious scholarship spanning a century to a volume of manageable size that will be thorough and useful? With this new commentary, Tarrant meets the challenge with great aplomb, having produced a volume that is balanced, nuanced, learned, and thought-provoking. Tarrant follows the familiar commentary format: a substantial introduction, text (with apparatus criticus), commentary, an interesting appendix, bibliography, a general index, and an index of Latin words. [End Page 291]The author states that the commentary aims “to be accessible to students at the university level and upper classes of schools, but also to contain material of interest to professional classicists” (44). I submit that he succeeds admirably in both goals. For instance, early on in the commentary when he uses literary terms such as “focalization,” he gives a brief description of the meaning of the term (85), while the longer entries are frequently followed by bibliography, which will benefit the student (and the scholar) who wants to research a specific episode or passage further. As a scholar, I was often intrigued by Tarrant’s interpretations and comments and was pleased to be forced to rethink passages I believed I understood well. One such example is the comment on the description of Turnus riding his chariot in line 370, where the plume of his helmet is blown backward while the chariot moves into the wind. Tarrant insightfully interprets the chariot’s movement as “an implied conflict of forces, between the wind that ‘strikes’ (quatit) the plume and the ‘opposing’ (aduerso) chariot,” linking this moment with the storm motif that occupies a prominent place in the poem as a whole.The lengthy introduction lays the groundwork for much of what is to follow in the commentary proper. Tarrant begins with a discussion of the book as the final in the epic and points out a series of thematic and structural analogies with other parts of the Aeneid and especially Book 1. He rightly brings to the foreground many issues that have been the topic of discussion in the most recent scholarship, such as narrative delay (3), the problem of Italian identity (7), the connection between Aeneas’ killing of Turnus and Romulus’ killing of Remus (8), the representation of the conflict as civil war (7), the problem of anger and revenge (18–21), and the depiction of Turnus’ death as a sacrifice (21–22). As one would expect, Tarrant devotes a considerable portion of his introduction to the final scene and presents a balanced and sober discussion of the controversy surrounding Aeneas’ killing of Turnus, arguing for deliberate ambivalence on the part of Vergil. He identifies two perspectives that help interpret the actions of the characters: one that comes from external forces, larger than and beyond the control of the characters, and an internal one that focuses on their emotional forces. Tarrant concludes that these two perspectives “do not cancel each other out, but co-exist,” a manifestation of Vergil’s tragic view of humanity (28–29).Tarrant’s comments on metrical issues are excellent. I plan to assign the portion of his introduction dedicated to Vergil’s meter as required reading for my undergraduates. In addition, throughout the commentary, Tarrant frequently demonstrates the ways in which meter, anaphora, enjambment, etc. contribute to the construction of meaning and makes a strong case for their impact on interpretation. This is an important lesson for today’s student, who gets little exposure to meter, or worse, tends to ignore it altogether. Take, for example, the note on lines 56–59, Amata’s plea to Turnus not to enter the fight. Tarrant... (shrink)

Drawing on a scene in J.M.G. Le Clézio's novel Terra Amata, which tells the story of the instincts of a small boy, the minute sensoria of some bugs and a cosmic catastrophe, this essay demonstrates the ambivalence around insects in animal studies, their contingent location in psychoanalysis and the conundrums they place in ethical philosophy. By reading Le Clézio's tale through Uexküll, Freud, Dodds and Stengers we argue for more nuanced, imbricated and critical connections between ethology, psychoanalysis and ethics. (...) These connections become imperatives in the face of the current environmental crisis, where we urgently need to attend to co-affecting relations that are too distant or proximate, tiny or vast to register as familiar sentient states or ethical feelings. In the process we demonstrate the performative dimensions of what we call the entomological imagination – present in the strange proximity of child and bugs, the powerful unthinking god, the indifference of the insects to human commands, and the infinitesimal catastrophe in Le Clézio's story – that facilitates an epistemic fluidity required for a contemporary understanding of ecologies. (shrink)