Every humanist today has probably heard of terms and concepts such as ‘distributed cognition’ and ‘theory of mind’, and many of us try hard to memorize what the famous 4Es stand for (enactive, embedded, embodied, extended). The application of cognitive approaches to the historical and theoretical study of texts and material sources has become widespread in recent years. Within this trend, classicists are key players in the conceptualization and further development of what is often called the ‘second generation’ (or ‘second wave’) of cognitive studies. Broadly speaking, while the first generation of theories in the cognitive sciences regards the human mind as relying on abstract forms of representation, the second generation challenges this reductionist view, rejecting the idea of the human brain as merely a computer-like entity and instead situating mental processes on a continuum with phenomena related to biological evolution and cultural practices (hence 4E cognition).
It is within the context of the second generation of cognitive studies and their uses in Classics (broadly understood) that Anna Novokhatko has written this extremely useful and timely guidebook ‘at the request of various students with whom [she] discussed cognitive approaches to ancient sources and the role of cognitive science in the humanities today’ (vii). The book consists of an introduction, five substantial main chapters (the last of which follows an unusual format, on which see below), a brief conclusion, an extensive bibliography and two relatively small indices. Importantly, it is not a handbook or a companion, but an introductory monograph that is meant to be read from beginning to end; thus, it is different from (and effectively complements) the Routledge Handbook of Classics and Cognitive Theory published a few years ago.[1] Accordingly, all chapters combine a general sketch of the origins and the history of the (sub-)fields in question, an overview of some of the most important trends and developments within the corresponding research areas, and in-depth discussions of some selected, more specific studies.
In the introduction, Novokhatko first provides her readers with a basic terminological ‘toolkit’, then identifies and outlines five areas of cognitive research that she considers to be relevant, but nevertheless chose not to devote an entire chapter to: cognitive linguistics, memory studies, theory of mind, cognitive poetics and artificial intelligence. These are all fields of study that have their origin outside of Classics, but from which Classics has benefited immensely and that have, in turn, the potential to influence other disciplines thanks to the originality of the findings and insights from Classics. Just to name a few examples that Novokhatko mentions and discusses here: readers are given glimpses into Klaas Bentein’s application of politeness theory to the analysis of Greek documentary papyri, Elizabeth Minchin’s work on the composition practices of the Homeric epics in connection with memory studies, and Ruth Scodel’s studies of the interaction between Homeric characters illuminated by reference to theory of mind.
However, the most debated and most controversial aspect of cognitive studies these days is surely AI. The author rightly states that there are ‘at least two ways of looking at the interaction between AI and Classics’, namely, for one, ‘to see what AI and its tools can contribute to the study of ancient Greek and Latin, ancient history, archaeology, and the like’, and, for another, to look at what ‘ancient sources actually say about artificial intelligence, robots and androids’, etc. (24). In other words, the first point refers to the rapidly growing field of Digital Classics (and Digital Humanities more generally).[2] The second calls to mind mythical figures such as Pandora and the ‘fake’ Helen known from Stesichorus etc.—figures who in their ambivalence appear as ‘surprisingly contemporary’ (27) when set alongside the ambivalence of the current ‘public discourse about AI’ (26) and thus may help to see our own anxieties about the new and the unknown from a fresh perspective.
The five main chapters, then, are centred around ‘five basic concepts of cognitive studies applied to ancient sources’ (30). The focus of the first chapter is on materiality—and, hence, on concepts and theories such as ‘cognitive archaeology’, the ‘material turn’ and ‘embodiment’. As we are surrounded by and interact with objects, and our mind does not work in isolation, but in, with and through our bodies and in constant interaction with our environment, the historical study of objects can, consequently, not be separated from the study of the human mind. An important concept in this context is ‘neuroarchaeology’, a term coined by Colin Renfrew and Lambros Malafouris, the basic idea behind which is that material influences and shapes the human mind as much as the human mind forms material. This mutual influence can be illustrated by the work of a potter, whose ‘brain and body’, as Novokhatko puts it, ‘interact with the […] clay and the kiln’, whereby the ‘shape of the clay is ultimately created through an intricate relationship between the potter’s feeling for the feel of the clay […] and the potter’s reaction to the shape’ (34–35). Another case in point is the Linear B script, famously preserved on baked clay tablets. This script is not ‘an abstract code’ that happens to have been written on clay; rather, it is extended cognition in a literal sense: a ‘technology involving reciprocal and culturally staged and enacted interactions between people, situations, tool use and space’ (42).
Yet another case study on which Novokhatko reports is Peter Meineck’s analysis of the function and effect of the mask in Attic theatre. As ‘the mask was particularly useful in intensifying and emphasising the spectator’s perception of bodily movement’ (49), it was not only an object connected to the performance of Greek drama, but it was equally intertwined with how the audience perceived the actors on stage and how the audience’s perception of the stage as a space and the material connected to it was influenced accordingly. This case study, in turn, anticipates the nucleus of the next two chapters, which focus on space and vision, respectively. Chapter 2 takes as its starting point the ‘spatial turn’—a paradigm shift that, similar to the material turn, did not originate from, but was soon linked up with cognitive science. Following the tenets of 4E cognition, space ‘is conceived as a cognitive entity capable of agency, rather than a static external domain’ (58). On this basis, Novokhatko again (inter alia) resorts to Greek theatre, now discussing it as ‘a place of viewing, both emotionally and architecturally’ (65). The Greek theatre with its multisensory characteristics evokes what is called ‘place attachment’ (66): ‘the experience of a long-term affective attachment to a particular geographical and architectural entity’ (69). In a discussion that may be somewhat exhausting for the uninitiated reader, but that effectively serves to illustrate the complexity of the matter, the author demonstrates how the spatial dimension of the theatre and its multi-layered connection to the cognition of its audience are indispensable for understanding corresponding material and textual sources.
Chapter 3 is devoted to imagination, vision and perception—and, more widely, to how sensual perception and the brain mutually influence and depend on each other. In the first part of the chapter, once more the Greek theatre is discussed; here Novokhatko illustrates the ‘juxtaposition and synaesthesia of seeing and hearing’ (82) by reference to scenes like the choruses of the frogs and the birds in Aristophanes’ eponymous comedies. Moreover, the chorus of the birds is also depicted on a vase from c. 425 BC (the ‘Naples Birds Krater’), on which an aulos player facing the viewer is shown, flanked and observed by two actors disguised as birds. The aulos player thus ‘visually reflects his role in the plot and symbolises the sound itself’, and the ‘sound is thus embodied on the vase, while the scene is further enhanced by the bird costumes worn by the two actors, which contribute to the overall performative context’ (84). This example subsequently leads to a discussion of how ancient critics such as Longinus, Plutarch, Seneca, Fronto and Quintilian reflect on the nature of the visual and on corresponding terms such as imag(inati)o in Latin, and εἰκών, φαντασία and ἐνάργεια in Greek. It is demonstrated that much of the theoretical discussion by these authors in fact aligns with the insights of contemporary cognitive science about how vision and imagination ‘are closely related, both in the processes our brains go through when we respond to an imaginary world, and in the language we use to describe such an experience’ (97).
Experience and the senses are at the core of the discussion in chapter 4, thus expanding the focus of chapter 1 (the haptic) and chapter 3 (the visual) to include all senses. Drawing on a wide range of examples, Novokhatko shows how the ‘sensory turn’ ‘has inspired the humanities in the last decade [and] has enabled scholars to explore a wide range of practices from Greek and Roman antiquity and to investigate the many ways in which smell and taste, sight and sound, individually and together, play a role’ (110). In particular, cognitive approaches to the study of ancient religious practices have had a major upswing in recent years. In this context, a key area of research is the examination of the ‘religious experience’, focusing on how the sensory elements of rituals—such as decoration, light, music, scents—engaged all senses of the participants and created a tangible sense of contact with the divine, thereby illuminating the broader sensory universe the Greeks drew upon during these ritual moments.
Yet, multisensory religious experience does not only stimulate the senses—it also appeals to, and evokes, strong feelings. Therefore, it seems only logical that the last chapter should be devoted to emotions. Here, the author turns to a format only rarely used in academic writing: the interview. In 2023, Novokhatko talked to David Konstan, Angelos Chaniotis, and Douglas Cairns, asking them questions about the usefulness and the possibilities as well as the problems and limits of cognitive approaches in Classics, thus giving a voice to three major pioneers of the field (the fact that David Konstan is sadly no longer among us makes reading his interview particularly valuable). Summarizing their answers would go beyond the scope of this review and at the same time not do justice to these three towering figures. Suffice it therefore to say that despite the differences in their approach, they all agree that the ‘cognitive turn’ in Classics is more than just a trend, but rather a paradigm shift that will have a lasting effect. In the words of Douglas Cairns: ‘I think we’re only at the beginning’ (147)—words that Novokhatko put as a motto at the beginning of her introduction (1) and that, in nuce, also constitute the message of her conclusion, where she outlines the directions a future cooperation between Classics and cognitive science could take.
As stated at the beginning, this is a most valuable and insightful guidebook that I can highly recommend to students and scholars at all levels. However, despite this, I regret having to end my overall positive review on a slightly critical note. One complaint is the relatively low quality of the ‘perfect binding’—I read the book twice and took it on two trips, which was enough for it to almost fall apart (inadvertently, yet ironically, this illustrates the point made in chapter 1 about the material aspect of cognition). Furthermore, I noticed numerous formatting inconsistencies in the bibliography—something that does, fortunately, not jeopardize the usefulness of the bibliography as such, but that makes the whole thing look chaotic to the eye (inadvertently again, harking back to chapter 3 with its focus on visual cognition). I therefore hope that the book will soon be sold out and that the publisher will take the opportunity to have the bibliography corrected for a second revised edition—and to use better-quality bookbinding glue. That this book deserves to be sold out and reprinted, of that there can be no doubt.
Notes
[1] Peter Meineck, William Michael Short and Jennifer Devereaux (eds.), The Routledge Handbook of Classics and Cognitive Theory, London and New York, 2019.
[2] On Digital Classics, see especially the forthcoming volume by Clelia R. LaMonica and Anna Foka (eds.), Evolving Perspectives on Digital Classics, London and New York, 2026.