What we call things is important—it reveals what we think about the world. What we call ourselves, however, is even more important. It reveals ideas and assumptions about identity, gender, community. It helps us to see where we fit in in society; what we understand our purpose, our role to be; the kinds of activities we undertake. In a history where women have been largely barred from higher-paying, traditionally male occupations, the way in which women in particular use terminology to lay claim to skills and expertise in counterpoint to a generally male-dominant culture speaks volumes about the ways in which women see themselves and their relationship to their work. As Erica Jong puts it in her feminist essay, The Artist as Housewife, ‘naming is a form of self-creation’.

At the close of Euripides’ Electra, the Dioscuri suddenly appear ‘on high’ to their distraught niece and nephew, who have just killed their mother, the divine twins’ mortal sister. This is in fact the second longest extant deus ex machina (after the final scene in Hippolytus), and the only scene in which a tragedian attempts to resolve directly the aftermath of the matricide. In this article, I argue that Castor's and Polydeuces’ sudden apparition to Orestes and Electra constitutes a specialised point of intersection between the mortal and immortal realms in Greek tragedy: familial epiphany, an appearance by a god who has an especially intimate relationship with those on stage. Euripides’ focus on the familial divine as a category accentuates various contradictions inherent to both ancient Greek theology and dramaturgy. The Dioscuri are a living paradox, ambiguously traversing the space between dead heroes and gods, managing at the same time to occupy both. They oscillate uniquely between the mortal and immortal worlds, as different sources assign different fathers to each brother, and others speak of each one possessing divinity on alternate days. As I propose, the epiphany of these ambiguous brothers crystallises the problem of the gods’ physical presence in drama. Tragedy is the arena in which gods burst suddenly into the mortal realm, decisively and irrevocably altering human action. The physical divine thus tends to be both marginal and directorial, tasked with reining in the plot or directing its future course. The appearance of the familial divine, on the other hand, can in fact obscure the resolution and future direction of a play, undermining the authority of the tragic gods. In the specific case of Electra, I contend that the involvement of the Dioscuri, who are Electra's and Orestes’ maternal uncles, produces a sense of claustrophobia at the close of the play, which simultaneously denies the resolution that is expected from a deus ex machina while also revealing the pessimistic nature of what is typically considered a reassuringly ‘domestic’ and character driven drama.

With its memorable image of the Antiquitates guiding home a Roman populace estranged from Rome, Cicero's compliment to Varro epitomises the Roman tendency to intertwine historical knowledge and the urban landscape. In the profusion of scholarship on Roman topography and memory, this tendency has become something of a topos in its own right. In her seminal monograph Writing Rome, for example, Catharine Edwards proposes that, ‘topography, for Romans, perhaps played a greater role than chronology for making sense of the past…places became vehicles for a kind of non-sequential history’. Straying about like foreigners in their own city, however, Cicero's lost Romans remind us that the city's history was not immanent in its hills and valleys, monuments and marketplaces. On the contrary, like any other, Rome's mnemonic topography was a work in process, constituted in ‘the persistent return to history, the systematic unearthing of ruins, the conscientious recovery of traditions, and…the reactivation of an inherited past’.

This article focuses on the Sacred Tales (henceforth ST), Aelius Aristides’ first-person account of his terrible diseases and subsequent healing brought about by Asclepius, and sheds new light on this text with the help of the notion of embodiment. In recent decades the ST has received a great deal of attention: scholars have offered two main readings of this work, oscillating between the poles of religion and rhetoric. Some have read the ST as an aretalogy while others have emphasised the rhetorical aims of this text and its connection with Second Sophistic literature.

Ausonius' Mosella is probably the most remarkable, studied and beloved poem of late antiquity. This essay aims to examine it from a new perspective, by reinterpreting it as a complex and many-layered depiction of a sui generis epiphanic experience, ultimately triggered by an unmediated encounter with nature. This sudden ‘revelation’, be it real or merely an artful literary device, did not only provide Ausonius with a deeper insight into the world around him, but also raised many epistemological issues on the limits of human knowledge and the (in)ability of language to convey reality. Both aspects—the poetical rendering of a non-discursive quasi-mystical experience and the epistemological and philosophical reflections it brings about—pervade the whole of the poem and are absolutely central to an in-depth understanding of its very raison d’être.