The topic of the Greek afterlife and the beliefs associated with it has seen recently a revival in Classical studies, with many works revisiting the literary, philosophical, social, and theologicalaspects of the Greek Underworld, among others. Hades, as an imagined space, has always reflected the expectations, hopes, fears, and even life philosophy of the Greeks regarding the crushing weight of mortality, which we all carry, and consequently it has been the natural place to look when one wishes to understand the values and beliefs of any Greek society at any given point in time (p.2). Lye’s monograph attempts to do exactly that, by examining a large number of literary and philosophical texts (from the Archaic period to the Second Sophistic) and trying to map the evolution of the Greek Underworld, and consequently the Greeks’ approach to life and death, through time, space, genre, and trend. Inevitably, such an endeavour meets with difficulties that can range from the evident danger of oversimplicity to a quick bypassing of important texts and concepts that have been painstakingly examined by scholarship before, and about which the academic jury is still out. Lye proposes to look at the Underworld as a separate space/concept which, although always stable in terms of its presence in Greek thought, undergoes significant alterations with time, evolving as it were alongside the beliefs of the authors, poets, and consequently the society that informs them. To do so, Lye introduces the concept of hypertextuality, which allows an author to activate their audiences’ previous knowledge of the Underworld and to build on it according to the needs of their narrative. The Underworld, Lye argues correctly in Chapter 1, allows for such a treatment, since it functions as a chronotope, where time and space are collapsed, leading to scenes that “bring many stories into their singular, dense narrative space so they can be viewed at the same time” (p.25). In general terms, this is a well-known function of the Underworld in Greek literature, and one of which the Greeks themselves appear to have been quite conscious, activating the special poetic/philosophical space of Hades whenever necessary, particularly when innovation was called for. Lye’s contribution, therefore, is a holistic examination of this strategy as a way of understanding the conscious or unconscious evolution of what she calls chronotopic aspect of the land of the dead. Naturally, not much time can be spent on each individual text, and any close reading offered is limited by necessity, but for the most part Lye succeeds in offering a rather comprehensive analysis of most of the texts she looks at. Chapter 2 is focused on Homer, primarily the Nekyia of Book 11 and the Deuteronekyia of Book 24 of the Odyssey, while also discussing briefly the visit of Patroclus’ ghost to Achilles in Book 23 of the Iliad. Lye demonstrates how all these scenes share similar elements and are constructed more or less with the same building blocks, noting, however, how they differ, particularly in their representation of the dead——mindless in Od. 11, conscious and self-aware in Od. 24. For Lye this is evidence of the versatility of the Underworld narrative in general, which can allow for different beliefs to manifest through it without much issue on the part of the author or the audience, particularly since the concern of both is with the justification of a heroic existence while one is still among the living. Such an interpretation, however, is in my view somewhat simplistic and for the most part sidelines an important debate that has raged for decades regarding the nature of the soul in Homer and its function in the Underworld. To begin with, Lye does not devote much attention to the importance of the division between the sphere of the living and that of the dead, considering the perspective adopted by the characters involved in the Homeric Underworld scenes to be identical, whether they belong to the world of the living or that of the dead. There seems however to be a clear distinction between the two as showcased in all three Underworld scenes featured in Homer: from Patroclus ghost’s ability to converse with Achilles while not integrated in Hades, and thus unable, as he states, to mingle with the other dead (Il. 23.72-4), to the evidently intentional grouping of Antilochus, Achilles, and Patroclus in Od. 11.467-70, and finally to the incomprehensible—from a mortal perspective – bat-like squeaking of the suitors’ souls while being led to Hades by Hermes, and their excellent ability to converse with each other and with Achilles and Agamemnon once finally integrated in the dark abode. All these instances, I would argue, demonstrate that there is a different communicative register activated only in the Underworld, while for those of us who are still outside, it cannot be understood as anything else than an incomprehensible screeching (note also the sound Patroclus’ soul makes while returning to Hades in Il. 23.100-1; while not yet fully integrated the hero’s soul appears to possess already some of the qualities of those below). The role of the epic poet, therefore, is precisely not only to reach Hades through their art but also to make accessible the narratives included therein. Whether one agrees with such an interpretation or not is not of relevance here, but I think mentioning the wealth of approaches regarding the afterlife beliefs embedded in the Homeric epics, showcases the risks one takes when approaching the issue from a general perspective. Yet, Lye’s main point remains valid, namely that the heroic nature of life informs the dark and generally unpleasant nature of the Homeric afterlife, essentially acting as a motivation for the pursuit of glory and timē while one is still alive. Chapter 3 picks up from that point and proceeds to offer an examination of the blessedness of the dead, while also looking at their possible eternal punishment in Hades. The chapter is perhaps the strongest in the book, providing the reader with an extensive analysis of the relevant terms, olbios and makar, in the epic universe, including Homer, Hesiod, and the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. The length of the material covered forbids an exhaustive discussion, and yet the chapter nevertheless contains several examples of close reading that yield interesting results, particularly in terms of showcasing the evolution of the afterlife beliefs in the Archaic period, from the dreaded nothingness of the earlier Homeric stages to a more flexible post-Homeric “idea of afterlife judgement and the postdeath segregation of souls” (p.111). Lye demonstrates this by tracing the gradual application of the concept of blessedness, and consequently its opposite wretchedness, to the dead who are gradually becoming more self-aware in terms of the quality, or lack thereof, of their afterlife existence—a far cry from Homer’s ἀμενηνὰ κάρηνα, indeed.
Chapter 4 expands the discussion to Greek Lyric and the Orphic tablets, a combination the value of which is not entirely clear to me. Lye proceeds to showcase the novel use of the traditional Underworld by epinician poets, who, she argues, exploit the inherited structures of a dark Hades with the possibility of afterlife rewards for exceptional individuals, as a means to immortalise their patrons by elevating them to heroic status after death. Although the general premise of the chapter is correct, and one could add even obvious, there are some issues that should be highlighted. For example, the discussion of Pindar’s Underworld scenes contains only a brief reference to the notorious Threnoi (Lamentations), a sub-genre of lyric poetry most likely destined for a funerary context, to which Pindar contributed at least two books, of which several fragments have reached us. Fr. 131-3, in particular, have caused, and still do cause, a heated academic debate regarding the possible afterlife beliefs depicted therein, which seems to be straying away from those of mainstream Greek religion, even in the case of mystery cults. Since Lye has included in this chapter a discussion of some of the Orphic tablets as examples of deviation from the Greek Underworld norm, it is striking that the aforementioned fragments have not been given a more prominent position in the analysis. All in all, Chapter 4 feels somewhat rushed—Bacchylides’ Ode 5 is only given a brief mention as well—offering a broad reading of several, not clearly connected texts. Although the point about the rise of a tripartite Underworld is valid, although not novel, more could have been done, I believe, to highlight the sudden eruption of alternative paths to the afterlife that seems to have taken place starting at the end of the 6th, beginning of the 5th century BC.
Chapters 5 and 6 shift the focus of the analysis to Athens from the mid 5th century onwards and present the reader with a comprehensive analysis of literary sources and material evidence. It is during that time, Lye shows, that Hades, or rather the privileged parts of it, becomes available to the general public, in a process that can be seen as a “[d]emocratisation of the Afterlife” (p.155). Lye’s approach here proves to be valuable, since the combination of a light discussion of the material evidence, such as funerary stelae and white lekythoi, with the literary evidence of the time, including public speeches and tragic performances, helps the reader visualise the evolution of the Athenian afterlife beliefs as a direct result of the prominent social changes that took place in Athens after the Persian wars and the golden age that followed. The discussion of the Platonic depictions of the afterlife in Chapter 6 offers the reaction to this new model. Lye looks at the Underworld narratives in the Gorgias, Republic 10 and the Phaedo, and argues that Plato reacts to the standard Athenian conceptions and values of life, by constructing a new, philosophical Underworld on the basis of the old depictions inherited by the poets. Again, this is an evident point for any Plato scholar or reader, and although the chapter does not put forward any groundbreaking interpretations of the texts it examines, it nonetheless allows the clear opposition of mainstream Athenian beliefs and the Platonic/Socratic thought to emerge, connecting it as it were to Lye’s general approach to Hades as the starting point for social, moral and even political revision.
Finally, the Epilogue that follows attempts to offer a comment on the reception of the Underworld and its function as a hypertextual chronotope, by looking at Virgil’s Aeneid and Lucian’s True History, the Cataplus, and the Dialogues of the Dead. I strongly believe that including this section in the book was a mistake. In just over 10 pages Lye touches upon the works named above and, in my view, does not make any novel points, besides the obvious re-use of afterlife motifs by Virgil and Lucian. Perhaps the book should have ended with Chapter 6, or at the very least should not have included Lucian’s name in the title, since without a dedicated discussion of his works, the title ends up being rather misleading.
All in all, Lye’s monograph is an important addition to the study of Greek afterlife, although I see its value more as a reference work rather than a nuanced contribution to scholarship. This is a book that anyone who works on Greek religion in general and the Greek Underworld in particular must read, at the very least as a work that collects and discusses with ease a vast amount of evidence and texts, even if it constantly runs the risk of oversimplification.