Forms of Astonishment: Greek Myths of Metamorphosis. By RICHARD BUXTON. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2009. Pp. xvi + 281. Cloth, $100.00. ISBN 978–0–19–924549–9. Order this text for $100.00 from Amazon.com using this link and benefit CAMWS and the Classical Journal: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/redirect-home/classjourn-20 Previously published CJ Online reviews are at http://classicaljournal.org/reviews.php CJ Online 2010.06.05 Although numerous scholars have written on metamorphosis, it seems fair to say that no previous author has come to the subject with such expertise in Greek myth, religion and thought as Richard Buxton. This is a learned book, but Buxton covers difficult subjects easily; he is up-to-date on the major bibliography, but he does not often let scholarly arguments get in the way of his discussion. This approach is appropriate, because metamorphosis is a topic that does not appeal only to classicists, and Buxton’s book will be readily accessible to non-specialists: little Greek is quoted, and most Greek words appear in transliterated form. All non-English quotations are translated. Forms of Astonishment shows how much is at stake in any discussion of metamorphosis myths, because they are inextricably bound up with weighty matters such as Greek religion, Greek cult, and Greek views of past and present and the world around them. As the first half of the book shows, these myths found their way into the work of a wide range of authors. But Buxton’s book differs from other approaches to the topic by being an attempt neither to uncover what metamorphosis “means” in any grand, cultural sense, nor to make sweeping statements about “the Greeks” generally; he also refuses to try to explain the “original meaning” of such myths. A strength of the book is its focus on the variety of views of such myths; we should assume neither that all Greeks believed these stories nor that none of them did. The initial focus on context is especially useful in making this point. The first half of the book, five chapters on “Narratives and their Contexts,” offers a breathless tour of metamorphosis in Greek literature and art, providing a reminder of just how widespread such myths were, and in what a broad range of contexts they could appear. Buxton’s quick survey of all the metamorphoses in a work like Apollonius’ Argonautica, for example, shows that the work contains more metamorphoses than one might remember. This kind of reminder is especially necessary because of the overwhelming influence of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. It is all too easy to imagine that, in comparison with the Roman epic, Greek literature has little to say about metamorphosis. True to his subtitle, however, Buxton focuses almost exclusively on Greek literature and art, and his survey supports the assertion that it would be reductive to suppose that Homer, Aristophanes and Nonnus all use metamorphosis the “same” way. The second half of the book is more ambitious and moves beyond individual contexts to treat larger questions raised by metamorphosis, including what such myths tell us about Greek conceptions of the divine, the landscape and the relationship between humans, animals and plants. Metamorphosis, as Buxton shows, was good for the Greeks to think with, and it is in turn good for us to think with about the Greeks. Chief among the book’s many strengths is its formulation of metamorphosis as an “irruption of the divine” (passim). Such irruptions “are by definition uncharacteristic of everyday life and ... therefore generate astonishment” (p. 240). Buxton’s focus on this astonishment (almost always the reaction to metamorphosis) is especially useful to modern readers (perhaps especially classicists) who mostly associate metamorphosis with Ovid’s epic poem, where it can seem at best commonplace and at worst trite. The emphasis on astonishment also calls attention to the fact that myths of metamorphosis, more than most types, are a way of exploring key questions about the place of humans in the world, and the astonishment they generate reminds us that Greek religion was sometimes edgy (p. 252). Particularly good is Buxton’s discussion of metamorphosis that affects the landscape, since such myths reflect a belief that there is something uncanny about the world around one, but that manifestations of the past also continue into the present. Aetiological myths all serve the latter function to some extent, but the idea of a divine presence behind such mundane objects as plants and animals is, indeed, uncanny—and it would be wrong to brush away such notions too quickly. The relation of such myths to these questions explains their long-lasting popularity and their appearance in so many genres. Succinctly put, the metamorphic tradition “stresses as a living reality the interaction between myth, religion, and everyday existence” (p. 230). Buxton’s discussion of the role of the gods complements his formulation of metamorphosis as “divine irruption.” I can summarize his conclusions no better than he does in the last two sentences of the book: “The metamorphic tradition expressed in narrative form the astounding, destabilizing irruption of divinity, and the existence of remarkable continuities between human life and the natural environment. Stories told in this tradition were a way of articulating, and perhaps even partially coping with, the astonishing strangeness of life’s outcomes” (p. 252). Buxton’s focus on context means that he does not take a reductive approach to metamorphosis, arguing that it serves as a kind of metaphor or that metamorphoses all do generally the same kind of thing—the impression given by some other approaches to the topic. At times, however, his approach seems too conservative, and he appears overly reluctant to draw conclusions. Though B. does argue against some commonly held positions, he rarely adduces a new formulation to take their place. Those with a long-standing interest in scholarship on metamorphosis will perhaps be most interested in points at which he does take a (convincing) stand, e.g. arguing that we should not attribute metamorphosis myths to the “childhood of society” (pp. 72, 75, etc.) or consider “shape-shifters” a meaningful category of them (pp. 175–7). One of the most original parts of the book is Buxton’s discussion of blood-related metamorphoses, which calls attention to the fact that those who undergo such metamorphoses are usually young men (e.g. Hyacinthus, Crocus, Narcissus) in their sexual prime who are somehow at odds with heterosexual marriage. Their premature deaths occur when their “blood is at is seminal height: even when shed, it remains powerful enough to generate new life” (pp. 227–8). B.’s discussion of what metamorphosis tells us about the anthropomorphic view of the Greek gods is similarly engaging. All surveys invite quibbling over what has been included or excluded. The inclusion of Nonnus (pp. 143–53)—to whom B. devotes more space than any author save Homer and Aristophanes—seems problematic, both because of the likelihood that Nonnus was influenced by Ovid (although Buxton implies that he disagrees with those who see such influence [p. 147]) and because of his late date, which would seem to strain against Buxton’s assertion that he is focusing on “just one culture” (p. 18). Nonnus is included because B. sees metamorphosis as a focus of the Dionysiaca (p. 147), but in light of this choice, works of Greek literature devoted solely to collecting myths of metamorphosis are conspicuously absent. While Buxton does briefly mention Hellenistic poetic collectors like Nicander and Boeus (“The Collectors,” pp. 110–15), he does not address the numerous papyri that list such myths. Does the systematic collection of such material thwart the sense of astonishment or intensify it? There are no absolutes in this book and no simple conclusions. This is surely a wise (and almost inevitable) approach with such complicated material, but one might have wished for more synthesis and finality. At times, the book feels rushed, and the approach is at times too open-ended. Buxton’s caution is understandable and even laudable. But his book will leave many readers feeling unfulfilled or unsettled—although perhaps that has much to do with the myths themselves, which offer no easy answers. K.F.B. FLETCHER Louisiana State University If you have been forwarded this review, you may subscribe to the listserv by sending an email to: [log in to unmask] Leave the subject line blank, and in the first line of the message write: SUBSCRIBE CJ-Online You may remove yourself from the CJ-Online listserv by sending an email to: [log in to unmask] Leave the subject line blank, and in the first line of the message write: UNSUBSCRIBE CJ-Online