The nature of Eustathius’ Parekbolai as a “service text”, along with the fact that it lends itself to consultation of specific passages rather than continuous reading (the definition of “companion” that Robert Browning applied to the Commentary on the Iliad can equally be applied to the Commentary on the Odyssey, since both works are useful not only for demonstrating the πολυμάθεια of Homer and of their author, but also for enhancing that of the reader), has not deterred the publication, in recent years, of a considerable number of studies devoted to them[1].
Against this background, the timely publication of Volume III of Eustathius of Thessalonica, Commentary on the Odyssey, edited by Eric Cullhed and S. Douglas Olson, is particularly welcome. This new critical edition—which represents a highly commendable effort to revise and enrich Gottfried Stallbaum’s earlier edition—began with the publication of Volume I (on rhapsodies 1–4) in 2022 and continued with Volume II (on rhapsodies 5–8) in 2023[2].
The overall structure of Volume III, devoted to rhapsodies 9–12, mirrors that of the preceding two volumes. Although Donald J. Mastronarde has already outlined this structure in his review of Volume I published in this site, I shall briefly present it here for the sake of clarity and completeness.
The volume opens with a very short but informative preface on the textual tradition of Eustathius’ work and the ratio edendi adopted by the two editors. It is a condensed version of the preface to Volume I, but is identical to that of Volume II—indeed, identical in almost every respect, to the extent that even the examples of variant readings separated by a slash (p. VII) have not been updated for this third volume. The preface is followed by the “Abbreviations” section, divided into “Sigla”, “Abbreviations of ancient texts”, and “Abbreviations of modern studies and collections”. Regarding the “Sigla”, however, Mastronarde’s observations do not appear to have been heeded: the publication date of Stallbaum’s critical edition is still given as 1841 (instead of 1825–1826), and the black diamond-shaped bullet indicating “a change of lemma in the Homeric text, or at least change of aspect or topic”, has not been added, although it is included among the “Sigla” in the online edition.
The main body of the volume consists of the critical text with facing English translation. The former is conveniently accompanied in the inner margin by references to the page and line numbers of Niccolò Maiorano’s editio princeps, while the outer margin provides references to the volume and page numbers of Stallbaum’s edition, as well as to the folio numbers of manuscripts M and P, on which the critical text is based. Moreover, its layout is particularly reader-friendly, thanks both to its internal articulation by means of the aforementioned bullets and to its division into blocks, separated by a blank space and preceded by an indication of the Homeric passage under discussion. In this respect, it is worth noting that the verse numbers given in these headings indicate the beginning and end of the relevant episode, rather than strictly marking the first and last Homeric quotations actually cited[3].
Beneath the Greek text are three apparatuses—fontes, loci similes, and varia lectio (the latter being positive)—which represents the most innovative and valuable resource for scholars, since Stallbaum’s edition contains no apparatus at all. In view of their richness and overall accuracy[4], it might have been useful to include in the “Abbreviations” a list of the viri docti cited in the apparatus of variant readings, especially for readers less familiar with Eustathius’ Parekbolai and the relevant bibliography. Indeed, some of these scholars do appear in the “Abbreviations”, but not under the abbreviations themselves: rather, they are listed only under their expanded reference; unless one has access to the online edition and can take advantage of its search function, the printed edition therefore forces the reader to go patiently through all the entries[5]. Other scholars do not appear in the “Abbreviations” at all, leaving readers to identify the references on their own—a task that is not always straightforward or easy[6].
It is clear, by contrast, that facilitating rapid and full comprehension—especially for those interested in consulting a short passage rather than reading at length, and who may have little familiarity with Eustathius’ prose, or even with Greek more generally—was a guiding principle behind the facing translation. Mastronarde has already described it as “a considerable achievement”, praising the “rebarbative task” undertaken by Cullhed and Olson. Volume III contains—as did the first two volumes—a wide range of “aids for the reader” inserted parenthetically: round brackets typically provide clarification of the meaning of a term or expression that has already been translated[7]; square brackets are used for grammatical or etymological information[8] but they also accommodate the translation of transliterated terms and various other aids to comprehension[9].
This hermeneutic effort further enhances a task that is already highly commendable, given the complexity of this learned text and the challenges it presents—among these is the continual need to decide which terms should be translated (and how), and which should instead be transliterated. The frequency with which such decisions must be made inevitably leaves room for occasional inaccuracies and inconsistencies[10].
It should nevertheless be stressed that such minor inaccuracies and typos are, in a sense, inevitable in a work of this scale and difficulty, and in no way detract from the value of a volume that is, on the whole, meticulously produced and outstanding in every respect. Like its two predecessors, and like the volumes that one hopes will follow in due course, this volume is already an(other) indispensable resource for anyone working on Eustathius, which might also contribute to broadening the readership of his work.
Notes
[1] Particularly noteworthy are the recent studies by Baukje van den Berg, which I cannot list exhaustively here; see, e.g., “Eustathios’ Homeric Commentaries and Byzantine Textual Culture”, in C.-P. Manolea, F. Renaud (eds.), Brill’s Companion to the Reception of Homer from Byzantium to the Enlightenment, Leiden – Boston 2026, pp. 63–88, and its final bibliography.
[2] The edition is also available by subscription online through Brill Scholarly Editions.
[3] There are occasional inaccuracies. For example, the episode discussed in the block ι 345–353 (pp. 116–122) actually ends at v. 352, which is also the verse containing the final quotation (οὐ κατὰ μοῖραν ἔρεξας). Likewise, the following block, which comments on the Cyclops’ reaction to Odysseus’ offer of wine, begins at v. 353 (where the ἔκπιεν quoted by Eustathius occurs), rather than v. 354, as indicated in the heading on p. 122.
[4] Given the impossibility—and, for the purposes of this review, the pointlessness—of undertaking a thorough examination of the apparatuses, I will just note one oversight that came to my attention. In the apparatus fontium on p. 328, Arrian’s fragment is cited only according to the FGrHist, without the reference to the standard critical edition which is nevertheless cited elsewhere (cf. p. 18). The reference in this case should be: Arr. Bith. fr. 44 Roos–Wirth.
[5] This is the case for Cohn (pp. 8, 10, 204, 210), Kassel–Austin (p. 322), Rose (p. 554).
[6] E.g. Fresenius (p. 322), which presumably refers to A. Fresenius, De λέξεων Aristophanearum et Suetonianarum excerptis Byzantinis capita quinque, Aquis Mattiacis 1875; or Meineke (p. 120): the presence of Kaibel in the same entry, and a comparison with the apparatus fontium, allows one to identify the reference as A. Meineke (ed.), Athenaei Deipnosophistae, vols. I–IV, Lipsiae 1858–1867.
[7] E.g. p. 477: “…achyrmia and myrmēkia, which are pronounced as a single word (i.e. are not differentiated by accent) …”; p. 559: “The well-known Argo was called the Argo via use of a negative term for a positive one, like argos, that is “swift” (sc. in contrast to its homonym LSJ s.v. B, which means “idle, ineffective”)”.
[8] E.g. p. 209: “…whence ephtharka [perf.] …”; p. 569: “…so that ahōroi would be | individuals who are savage or harsh or wild via a metaphor from fruit that is out of season [< alpha privative + hōra]”.
[9] E.g. p. 599: “…meaning posē horā [∼ “What time is it?”]”.
[10] One example is the puzzling transliteration of long vowels bearing a circumflex accent: these are rendered sometimes by indicating quantity alone and at other times by retaining the circumflex. Cf. pp. 205-207, where χρῆν and ἐχρῆν are variously transliterated as chrēn/echrēn and chrên/echrên (on p. 205 the typo ‘xhrên’ also occurs); or p. 243, where φῶ appears both as phō and phô. If there is a ratio behind these distinctions, it is not apparent. The same inconsistency is found in the first two volumes: in Volume I, for instance, kratō for κρατῶ (p. 677), but aniô for ἀνιῶ (p. 839); in Volume II, nemesō for νεμεσῶ (p. 251), but ozô, ainô, olô for ὀζῶ, αἰνῶ, ὀλῶ (p. 19).