[Authors and titles are listed at the end of the review]
Until well into the 20th century, Greek culture had routinely been studied in isolation, “confined to a vacuum bell jar,”[1] but since the major studies of Walter Burkert and Martin West,[2] on Mesopotamian “parallels” to Archaic texts, scholarly sensitivity to such connections has increased far beyond poetry. Christopher Faraone has been one of the most prominent scholars to work within this shifted paradigm. He has studied ancient Greek magic from a such a cross-cultural perspective, tackling evidence ranging from 10th century BCE Assyria to 5th century CE Egypt,[3] an approach that has found much favor in later scholarship.[4]
The present volume highlights the importance of Faraone’s interdisciplinary work for the study of ancient magic in two parts through the contributions of his colleagues and former students: Materials and Cross-Cultural Contexts. I evaluate individual chapters first, and then discuss the book as a whole.
After a Prologue sets the volume in the context of Faraone’s work, the part on Materials opens with Richard Gordon’s chapter on Greco-Egyptian formularies (2-4th centuries CE) that contain many ritual procedures. He approaches these compilations from several perspectives: as driven by an “archival impulse” rather than practical concerns, as influenced by Roman imperial ideology, and as reinforcing their authority with references to literary and other types of knowledge. Some threads could have been developed further; for instance, the suggestion that adjectival compounds served as “the clearest sign of literary ambition.”
Sofía Torallas Tovar uses differences in scribal features among seven procedures in one manuscript to argue that the manuscript was compiled from different sources. For example, she convincingly demonstrates that two invisibility procedures share features, such as the title format and textual corruption, which sharply distinguish them from a memory procedure that is located between them, indicating different sources.
Korshi Dosoo classifies marginal notes in the Theban Magical Library manuscripts (2-4th century CE) as annotations (ranging from glosses to in-depth textual assessments), supplements, additions and corrections. The discussion is technical, but revelatory. Notes can be used to extract information about the manuscripts: one falsely equates a flower with a rose rather than with a peony, leading the author to suggest an origin in Upper Egypt, where imported flowers, including peony, were less readily available.
Kassandra Miller discusses one magical manuscript in order to test the claim that the practitioners using such magical handbooks were “freelancers” who worked “within a competitive, multicultural marketplace” (71)[5] and used rhetoric of time, among other means, to prove the effectiveness of their ritual procedures. Among other topics, Miller analyzes a sexual charm whose eternal effectiveness is alleged through expressions of what she calls “a serialized eternity” (“year after year, month after month” etc.). She connects this practice to Egyptian pharaonic and temple inscriptions as an instance of “transference across cultures” (82). She also treats expressions that indicate the time needed for the charm to start working as a rhetorical strategy meant to convince the audience of the charm’s effectiveness by suggesting that the practitioner has practical experience. These conclusions warrant further testing. For instance, we should ask whether expressions of “serialized eternity” are attested in Greek literature? Could temporal precision in magic instructions amount to more than mere rhetoric?
Raquel Martín Hernández provides a new edition of “cycles of the Moon,” a calendar type indicating moments in the lunar cycle that are appropriate for specific magical procedures, in two manuscripts. Both calendars are puzzling – the former is copied on the outside of the papyrus roll, and the latter orders the zodiac signs in an idiosyncratic sequence. If the calendar is copied outside for a quicker reference, will it have been particularized for the particular manuscript, or simply copied from an earlier book? Were whole books consulted or just single sheets with calendars? While a definitive answer cannot be provided, the analysis offers a stimulating starting point, and convincing explanation for the peculiarities.
Ian Moyer illuminates astrological pinakes, boards with engraved representations of Sun, Moon and Zodiac, on which astrologers arranged stones to represent the planets. The stones that accompanied the pinakes are not extant, but Moyer argues that it is more important to understand “their use in a particular context of practice” (132), and sees them as “signs” that helped the astrologer and his client in “navigating astrological fate” (130) to avoid the worst outcomes.
Kenneth Yu examines textuality in Artemidoros’ Oneirocritica, a 3rd century CE dream interpretation handbook.[6] Despite Artemidoros’ logical, reader-friendly organization of the text, his view of the “textual medium” was “immensely ambivalent” (145). Yu’s discussion of “[t]he Ideology of Textuality in the Oneirocritica” (146) is set against the background of comparable cases found in Galen, Alcidamas, Lucian, and even Aristophanes and Plato. Consequently, we get an overview of ancient arguments against writing, as they relate to Artemidoros, rather than an in-depth treatment of Artemidoros’ own ambivalence.
Sandra Blakely discusses iron finger rings found at the site of the Samothracian mysteries. She relies on literary evidence, such as the metaphorical language in Lucretius’ discussion of magnetism, as well as archaeological and ethnological evidence, to conclude that the Samothracian mysteries symbolized an attempt to control natural, in particular maritime, forces.
Celia Sánchez Natalías provides an updated edition of a Latin defixio from Hadrumetum (2-3rd century CE), combining two fragments previously considered as separate. A detailed commentary on the language, content, mode of production and deposition of the tablet is helpfully provided.
Opening the section on Cross-Cultural Contexts, Bruce Lincoln draws a distinction between two seemingly antithetical traditions about the Magi in Greco-Roman sources: were they priests or quacks? The former tradition might stem from the period when they were supported by the Achaemenid court; the latter the later period, after the collapse of the Persian court, when they sought employment by any means necessary, but it also reflects a “tendentious western imaginary” (221). While all parts of Lincoln’s argument are interesting, they do not all consistently contribute to the overarching discussion: for instance, substantial space is devoted to Chirocmeta, a lost plant treatise summarized by Pliny the Elder with possible, but overemphasized, reflections of Iranian magical material and tenuous relevance to the general argument. Lincoln claims that the treatment of some plants in the treatise “indicate[s] that we are dealing with Iranian traditions, not Greek materials endowed with an Iranizing patina” (217), but the evidence is inconclusive: for example, Iranian provenience is hardly assured by the fact that one of these plants, Kasignetes, grows “only among plants of its own species,” which “suggests its association with the endogamous… forms of marriage favored by Persians that so scandalized Greek authors” (217-218). Therefore, it is unclear to what degree the traces of Chirocmeta in the Natural Histories can really help us understand how the Magi were perceived by others, much less by themselves.
Radcliffe Edmonds uses the 2nd century BCE Marmarini inscription to discuss the perception of ritual begging in Greco-Roman world. While many sources disparage ritual beggars as greedy charlatans, the Marmarini and other inscriptions embrace the practice of begging if it is performed within prescribed societal norms (on precise dates etc.). Edmonds makes the connection to the tales of wandering goddesses (e.g. Demeter), on the interesting assumption that ancient sources group rituals based not on the ritual’s deity or function, but its action.
Carolina Lόpez-Ruiz argues that the Greek visual representations of Heracles were influenced by the Phoenician “Egyptianizing” statues of Baal rather than directly by Egyptian statuary. The fascinating conclusions contribute to a better understanding of the elusive Phoenician culture, in particular “its capacity to synthesize various styles in original and highly characteristic ways” (250). The chapter should be read against the background of recent debates, with which López-Ruiz engages elsewhere,[7] on whether the “Phoenicians” existed as an independent ethnic and cultural category, or rather as a construct created by classical authors.[8]
Mary Bachvarova uses texts related to a Luwian Sun-goddess to reconstruct an earlier version of the Persephone narrative in which Hecate had a more prominent role than she does in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Building on Currie’s neo-analytical theories,[9] she ascribes the perceived peculiarities in the hymn to the remnants of previous versions, hypothetically recoverable from later evidence. Bachvarova admits that “[a] large part of this argument [is] by necessity speculative,” but maintains that Hecate’s role in the prehistory of the hymn “rest[s] on firmer ground.” The argument relies on 5th century iconography for a reconstruction of a much earlier Archaic Greek mythological narrative, and so should be considered speculative.
Roy Kotansky discusses a bronze medallion from the National Archaeological Museum in Madrid (4-5th century CE) to examine the transmission of a protective spell from a papyrus handbook to bronze medallions, from the 3rd to the 6th centuries CE, from Syria to Sicily. The technical analysis shows convincingly that textual mistakes on the Madrid medallion demonstrate that it had been ineptly modeled after a papyrus.
Megan Nutzman questions the distinction between amulets and tefillin (prayer boxes) in late Antique rabbinic literature, often understood in terms of the opposition between magic and religion. She convincingly concludes that the two were sometimes treated as interchangeable, sometimes placed in a hierarchy, with the tefillin on top, but that both nevertheless belonged to the traditional religious rabbinic practice.
Janet Downie offers a “material reading” (340) of the story of Thelxinoe’s corpse (embalmed by her adoring husband) in Xenophon’s Ephesian Tale. She argues that Thelxinoe’s corpse has agency over Habrocomes, that it feeds into the corpse imagery in the Ephesian Tale, as well as into the Roman Imperial “Egyptianizing” culture. The conclusions are stimulating, but their theoretical import is overstated, and they are sometimes strained: for instance, I see no evidence in Poppaea’s apotheosis poem that “Nero’s embalming of Poppaea… was erotically motivated” (351).
Clifford Ando appraises the big ideas that permeate Faraone’s work, in particular, his simultaneous treatment of chronologically and geographically disparate evidence: the former allowed him to posit “an unbroken tradition of the use of hexametrical incantations in the Greek world from the Bronze Age down to the end of antiquity;”[10] the latter – to question the Greekness of any such “Greek world” that was in constant contact.
The book’s abstract promises to appeal “to both specialized and non-specialized audiences… in an accessible way,” but many pieces are written in dense style and use technical and theoretical jargon. Furthermore, key concepts and corpora, not necessarily familiar to non-experts, are not fully introduced when they first appear. Key theoretical approaches, such as the materiality turn, deserve a more robust treatment in the introduction.
Several chapters engage in a stimulating exchange on similar problems from different perspectives. For example, regarding the tension between flashy rhetoric and the deep conviction of the magical practitioners, Miller argues that precision expressions in magical recipes amount to little more than clever rhetorical strategy, while Moyer insists that many practitioners had “earnest certainty in the efficacy of their knowledge” (124), the rhetoric of authority notwithstanding. Furthermore, the thematic range of chapters is very wide, with some offering literary analysis (Yu), others history of material objects (Kotansky), others still new editions of fragmentary texts (Sánchez Natalías).
The volume interestingly showcases tensions between scholarly attitudes towards responsible use of contact terminology, which has caused debates in recent years.[11] For instance, while loaded terms such as “syncretism” are (in my opinion, rightly) criticized by Lόpez-Ruiz (264), they are used confidently by Bachvarova (274, 275). On the other hand, the terms “magic” and “religion,” which give cohesion to the volume, are rarely defined by contributors,[12] leading to some confusion as to how the difference between them is envisaged by each particular chapter (and whether any distinction should be made at all).
Another interesting question that arises from the variety of perspectives represented in the book is that of the use of ethnic and geographical labels for cultural products. What does it mean for a sculpture to look “somewhat Egyptian” (Lόpez-Ruiz, 255)? Or to speak of a “western imaginary” (Lincoln, 221) in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, presumably as opposed to an eastern one? Relevant to many contributions, the problem is not tackled directly, perhaps a missed opportunity in a volume dedicated to a scholar who once considered the sensible idea of substituting ethnic labels (such as Greek, Etruscan…), with “a more general appellation: perhaps ‘Mediterranean’”.[13]
All in all, this is a successful volume. Ando (365) appropriately recalls the distinction, endorsed by Faraone,[14] between books that close and those that open debates. This is certainly a book that belongs to the latter category and animates a wide range of debates in contemporary scholarship, showing that the field to which the book’s dedicatee has contributed so much is still vibrant.
Authors and Titles
Prologue – A Kind of Magic: A Tribute to Christopher Faraone (xv-xxii)
Materials
- Richard Gordon – Mustering Knowledge in the Longer Greco-Egyptian Formularies
- Sofía Torallas Tovar – The Composition of GEMF 21/PGM I and Its Sources
- Korshi Dosoo – He Means ‘Rose’: Marginal Notes in the Greek Papyri of the Theban Magical Library
- Kassandra Miller – The Magic Hour: Cultures of Timekeeping in GEMF 57/PGM IV
- Raquel Martín Hernández – Practice Your Spells When It Suits You Best: The “Cycles of the Moon” Transmitted in GEMF 74/PGM VII and GEMF 55/PGM III
- Ian S. Moyer – Stars and Stones: Practice, Materiality, and Ontology in Astrological Rites
- Kenneth X. Yu – The Limits of Textuality in Artemidoros’ Oneirocritica
- Sandra Blakely – Magical Magnets? Mastering the Winds on a North Aegean Island
- Celia Sánchez Natalías – Fencing in the Drivers and the Chariot Horses in a Latin Defixio from Hadrumetum (DT 277 + 278)
- Cross-Cultural ContextsBruce Lincoln – The Problem of the Magi
- Radcliffe G. Edmonds III – Magicians and Mendicants: New Light from the Marmarini Inscription
- Carolina López-Ruiz – Egyptian Herakles and Syrian Aphrodite?: Phoenician Art and Cultural Exchange in the Ancient Mediterranean
- Mary R. Bachvarova – Uncovering an Earlier Version of the Demeter-Persephone Story: The Anatolian Background of Hekate’s Appearance in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter
- Roy D. Kotansky – A Bronze Medallion in Madrid: Cross-Cultural and Material Transmission of an Amuletic Tradition from Syria to Sicily
- Megan S. Nutzman – “Bind Them as a Sign on Your Hand”: Amulets and Tefillin in Rabbinic Texts
- Janet Downie – A Misplaced Mummy: Thelxinoe’s Corpse in Xenophon’s Ephesiaka
Clifford Ando – Epilogue – A Kind of Magic: The Work and Legacy of Christopher Faraone
Notes
[1] Detienne, M. 2008. Comparing the Incomparable (Lloyd, J., trans.). Stanford, CA, p.8.
[2] See, most importantly, Burkert, W. 1992. The Orientalizing Revolution. Cambridge, MA; West, M. 1997. The East Face of Helicon. Oxford. Among later studies, see, in particular, Lόpez-Ruiz, C. 2010. When the Gods were Born: Greek Cosmogonies and the Near East. Cambridge, MA; Haubold, J. 2013. Greece and Mesopotamia. Cambridge; Ballesteros, B. 2025. Divine Assemblies in Early Greek and Babylonian Epic. Oxford.
[3] See, in particular, Faraone, C. 1999. Ancient Greek Love Magic. Cambridge MA.
[4] See, for example, Frankfurter, D. (ed.). 2019. Guide to the Study of Ancient Magic. Leiden and Boston, MA; Mirecki, P. and M. Meyer. (eds.). 2002. Magic and Ritual in the Ancient World. Leiden. These collections feature chapters on Mesopotamia, Iran, Egypt, Israel and other cultures.
[5] Miller is explicitly building on Edmonds, R. G. III. 2020. “And You Will Be Amazed: The Rhetoric of Authority in the Greek Magical Papyri.” Archiv für Religionsgeschichte 21–22.1: 29–49.
[6] For recent treatments of Artemidoros, see Harris-McCoy, D.E. 2012. Artemidoros’ Oneirocritica: Text, Translation, and Commentary. Oxford; Thonemann, P. 2020. An Ancient Dream Manual: Artemidorus’ The Interpretation of Dreams. Oxford; Thonemann, P. (transl.) 2020. Artemidorus. The Interpretation of Dreams. Oxford.
[7] See Lόpez-Ruiz, C. 2021. Phoenicians and the Making of the Mediterranean. Cambridge MA; Lόpez-Ruiz, C. 2022. “Phoenicians and the Iron Age Mediterranean: A Response to Phoenicoskepticism.” In Hall J. and J. Osborne, eds. The Connected Iron Age: Interregional Networks in the Eastern Mediterranean 900-600 BCE. Chicago, 27-48.
[8] Quinn, J. 2019. In Search of the Phoenicians. Princeton NJ.
[9] Currie, B. 2016. Homer’s Allusive Art. Oxford.
[10] Faraone, C. 1996. “Taking the Nestor’s Cup Inscription Seriously: Conditional Curses and Erotic Magic in the Earliest Greek Hexameters.” Classical Antiquity 15: 111.
[11] See, for instance, López-Ruiz, C. (op. cit. note 2): 22; on the vexing term “orientalization,” see Riva, C. and N. C. Vella (eds.). 2006. Debating Orientalization: Multidisciplinary Approaches to Change in the Ancient Mediterranean. London.
[12] But see discussion by Nutzman (328, with bibliography in note 6).
[13] Faraone, C.A. 1991. “Binding and Burying the Forces of Evil: The Defensive Use of ‘Voodoo Dolls’ in Ancient Greece.” Classical Antiquity 10: 165-205, p. 199.
[14] Faraone, C.A. 2008. The Stanzaic Architecture of Archaic Greek Elegy. Oxford, p.163.