According to Herodotus, the expression phoinikeia grammata means ‘Phoenician letters’ and refers to the Phoenician origins of the Greek alphabet. This account has found general acceptance, but it is not the only interpretation possible and other theories circulated in antiquity. The adjective φοῖνιξ does not only mean ‘Phoenician’; it can also refer to a palm tree or the colour red. This article argues that the expression phoinikeia grammata did not originally refer to the alphabet, but to Linear B writing on palm leaves, as already suggested by Frederick Ahl. It is shown that the account of Herodotus is the result of a ‘learned reinterpretation’, triggered by the ambiguity of the word φοῖνιξ. The new understanding of phoinikeia grammata proposeds here has some important consequences: it implies that Linear B, as has long been suspected, was primarily written on palm leaves (hence ‘palm-leaf writing’) and that in classical antiquity there was at least a limited historical awareness of the existence of pre-alphabetic writing systems in the Aegean. This paper adduces additional evidence to substantiate these claims. Lastly, a case will be made that Herodotus’ incorrect reinterpretation has led to the ‘Phoenicianization’ of Cadmus, who was originally a Greek hero.

We offer a reassessment of two letters from the state correspondence of Tiglath-pileser III of Assyria (r. 744–727 BC) with the earliest references to a town called Yauna and a people called the Yauneans, as encountered on the eastern Mediterranean coast by the newly established imperial administration. Past scholarship connected these Assyrian terms with the ethnonym ‘Ionians’ and/or the toponym ‘Ionia’. The study narrows down the location of Yauna, drawing also on a review of the coastal sites that have produced Greek ceramic imports: although identification remains elusive, Yauna was certainly situated in the territory of the kingdom of Hamath, and later the Assyrian province of Ṣimirra. Discussion of the historical and cultural background of Yauna’s foundation highlights its significance for the ‘transfer debate’ and the phenomenon of the ‘Greeks overseas’. We argue that the Assyrians first encountered the Yauneans in this locality and that, to them, they were originally simply the inhabitants of Yauna. Due to the similarities perceived between them and (other?) Greeks appearing in the eastern Mediterranean, the Assyrians came to apply the ethnonym universally to all these people, who eventually adopted it for themselves. Thus, we support the argument that the term ‘Ionian’ originated in external nomenclature.

It is some years now since the Oxford anthropologist Edwin Ardener in his article ‘Belief and the problem of women’ drew attention to the striking lack of progress that had been made in understanding traditional societies as they are seen from the point of view of women: ‘the models of a society made by most ethnographers tend to be models derived from the male portion of that society’. The result, as he pointed out, is that, in considering social structure, ‘we are, for practical purposes, in a male world. The study of women is on a level little higher than the study of the ducks and fowl they commonly own.’ He went on to put forward an explanation of the fact, by suggesting that, since the dominant structure of society is articulated and communicated in terms of a male world-position, women constitute a ‘muted group’, made inarticulate by the lack of a language in which to communicate their particular sense of society and its relationship to the totality of experience.

Scholars have occasionally noted that the Antigone’s abundant images of polar opposition bear resemblance to the fragments of Heraclitus and his doctrine of the ‘unity of opposites’. The present essay develops this comparison and explores its implications for our interpretation of the play, presenting a test case for the value of the Presocratics in the study of Attic tragedy. It argues that Heraclitus’ surviving work provides a valuable resource for elucidating the play’s ‘cosmology’, a term here used in its anthropological sense to refer to presuppositions, rather than explicitly articulated theories, concerning the structure of the universe and humanity’s place within it. This endeavour can affect our understanding of two points of intense interpretative disagreement: the rationality of the central protagonists and the role of polar oppositions in the play. A culturally sensitive evaluation of the characters’ rationality must take account of the rules of the cosmos they inhabit. The polar oppositions hint at a regular and systematic cosmology, but its finer details are ultimately kept obscure to the audience, and only Teiresias displays a substantial understanding of this underlying framework. Heraclitus thus enriches our understanding of the epistemological predicament in which the characters find themselves.

This article reviews a selection of books published over the last decade that explore the relationship between humans and the environment in the ancient Greek world. These publications represent a new phase of the ecological turn in classical studies, in which ancient environmental studies has emerged as a distinct subdivision of the environmental humanities. Their contributions can roughly be divided into two groups according to their approaches and goals: one applies ecocritical analyses to Greek literature, presenting alternative ecologies to those that have produced contemporary environmental crises; the other applies historical methods to written and material evidence to illuminate the realities of ancient Greek human–environment relations. The three subsections of this review provide overviews of scholarship addressing sustainability and the conservation of natural resources; ecology and religion; and societal resilience in the face of ecological stress. I suggest productive avenues for further research in each area, arguing that interdisciplinary communication and collaboration are becoming increasingly important in this evidentially, methodologically and theoretically variegated field.

Deriving from a larger investigation into the sources used by Leonidas of Byzantium for his second-century AD Halieutica, this article argues that a handful of passages in Aelian’s De natura animalium (3.18, 3.28, 10.13, 10.20, 11.21, 11.23–24, 12.24–25[24] and 12.27[25]) comprise a coherent series indebted to the same section of Leonidas’ work. More importantly, all of these accounts are ultimately derived from a Peripatetic treatise on the marine fauna of the Red Sea. The author, whom I dub the Red Sea Aristotle, based his treatise on first-hand research likely conducted at a Ptolemaic settlement in the northern Red Sea. This treatise seems to have been known to at least one later Alexandrian lexicographer, while Agatharchides of Cnidus may have had access to it already in the middle of the second century BC. This Peripatetic treatise invites a reconsideration of orthodox claims about the fate of scientific zoology in the Hellenistic period.

The article argues that Penelope recognizes Odysseus at Odyssey 23.32–33, not, as is usually held, at 205–06. Recognition is here analysed as a multi-componential process, in which Penelope’s coming to know Odysseus’ identity must be distinguished from her letting on that she knows, and in which her recognition of the man before her as her long-lost husband does not automatically entail the immediate rekindling of all the old emotions. The narrative of Odyssey 23.1–230 is shown to be interested in tracing Penelope’s progression through the various components of recognition (knowledge, acknowledgement, emotional reconnection). The article explores the reasons why Penelope may consent to full reunion with Odysseus a good deal later than she has actually recognized him. Among these reasons, as well as the need for emotional attunement between Odysseus and Penelope, is Penelope’s need to ‘manage face’ vis-à-vis Eurycleia, Telemachus and Odysseus. It is argued, further, that the narrative of the Odyssey characteristically requires us to read the minds of its characters, above all Penelope in book 23. A mind-reading approach to the poem is justified in principle and grounded in a detailed reading of Odyssey 23.1–230. The wider interpretative implications for the poetics of the poem as whole are also explored.

With few surviving Greek sources from Hellenistic Babylonia, we are often ill-informed about the details of Seleucid imperialism ‘on the ground’ — in particular, about the Seleucids' relationship with the Babylonian priestly elites and Babylonian cult and culture. This makes the cuneiform sources all the more important. One of the most intriguing is the Antiochus (or Borsippa) Cylinder, a clay cylinder in the form of a traditional Mesopotamian royal inscription recording Antiochus I's restoration of a Babylonian temple. Although the Cylinder was previously seen as evidence for the adoption of Babylonian cultural forms by the Seleucids, recent readings have analysed it as a product of interaction between Babylonian tradition and Seleucid imperial ideology. Yet the accuracy of such readings crucially depends on situating the Cylinder correctly within its cultural context. Here the inscription is reassessed with close reference to earlier and contemporary Mesopotamian sources. While evidence for ‘copy-and-paste’ redaction imposes significant methodological constraints on textual analysis, certain elements of the Cylinder which are non-traditional from a Babylonian perspective can persuasively be interpreted in terms of Seleucid royal ideology. Ultimately, however, we must question the extent to which the inscription's ideological maneouvres are broadly ‘Babylonian’ or ‘imperial’, rather than shaped by and targeted at a specific local context.

Herodotus’ narrative of the testing of various Greek oracles by King Croesus of Lydia (1.46–54) has long been viewed with justifiable scepticism. A newly published verse dedication from the sanctuary of Apollo Ismenios at Thebes (Papazarkadas 2014: 233–48) sheds welcome light on Herodotus’ sources for this part of his Croesus-narrative. Herodotus’ account of Croesus’ testing of the oracle of Amphiaraus at Thebes appears to have been an imaginative extrapolation from the text of this inscription. But there is good reason to believe that Herodotus significantly misinterpreted the historical context and significance of the epigraphic text he had before him; in particular, the real author of the dedication is unlikely to have been King Croesus of Lydia, and may instead have been an Athenian aristocrat of the Alcmaeonid family. The new inscription from Thebes sheds light both on Herodotus’ use of documentary evidence and on the creative misreading of early epigraphic texts by Theban sanctuary personnel in the mid fifth century BC.

For the lack of forty-nine drachmas Socrates was unable to attend the costly epideixis of Prodicus from which he would have learnt the truth about correct use of words (Plato, Cra. 384b). From Prodicus' ὥραι Socrates could also have learnt the concepts and characteristic words associated with arete and kakia: these compete in that work for the allegiance of Heracles, parading their respective characteristics. Thanks to Professor Arthur Adkins we have had for the past decade a book which not only confronts arete and kakia, but also analyses the meaning and usage of many Greek words for the evaluation of action from Homer to Aristotle. The importance of this book is generally acknowledged but it has not received the detailed discussion it deserves. Professor Adkins finds the social structure of ancient Greece inimical to the development of an adequate concept of moral responsibility. He shows, in a most interesting manner, how Greek values changed as the needs of society changed.