The Grotesque in Roman Love Elegy

Pietropaolo, Mariapia, The Grotesque in Roman Love Elegy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020). 9781108488693.

Reviewed by Natalie J. Swain, University of Winnipeg, nataliejswain@gmail.com.

The aesthetics of love in Roman elegy is a prevalent theme throughout the surviving elegiac texts. In accounts of the amorous relationships of Roman men (and occasionally women) with the beautiful of their city, the elegiac puella (and iuvenis) is often defined by their beauty. In Pietropaolo’s book, however, the author takes an opposite approach, examining not what elements are defined by beauty but the effect of the grotesque imagery that similarly pervades the genre. Arguing that the grotesque intruding into elegy is in fact no intrusion at all, Pietropaolo seeks to demonstrate the way that repulsion in Roman elegy stands at one end of an aesthetic spectrum that fundamentally destabilizes the ideas of ideal love and beauty. In this, Pietropaolo is largely successful, providing a series of case studies and close readings of Propertius, Tibullus, and Ovid (as well as Lucretius and Catullus in chapter two) that demonstrates the sophisticated appearance of the grotesque and the way it actively disrupts the idealized image of love and beauty that these elegists purport to explore.1

The Grotesque in Roman Love Elegy puts its thesis in the title, as the text seeks to explore the grotesque elements of Latin elegy that stand in contrast to its aesthetics of beauty. As Pietropaolo writes (p. 20): “It is the contention of this study that, like all other constituents of the genre, the grotesque enters the conception of love elegy in this manner—from the empirical world and literary history as well as mythology—giving rise within the genre to a sense of darkness that destabilizes the dominant aesthetic of romantic love and ideal beauty.”

This is accomplished through a series of case studies in which the author examines individual characters or instances of the grotesque that appear throughout Latin elegy in order to cumulatively demonstrate the way that these instances fundamentally destabilize the genre. This is a unique approach, one that has (as Pietropaolo herself observes) been long neglected in the study of Roman elegy.

First, in chapter one, Pietropaolo sets the stage for her study, summarizing the historical discourse on the grotesque while situating the genre of Roman love elegy in the Augustan period in which there is a notable fascination with the grotesque (largely via Horace). Similarly, she introduces several of the elegiac scholars whose work she seeks to build upon, specifically Conte’s discussion of the role of contradiction in the logic of the elegiac genre and the way this contradiction creates a tension in whenever “something apparently foreign…is allowed to emerge into its domain” (p. 27). Thus, Pietropaolo establishes the way she will be building on the works of previous elegiac scholars as well as working with various Augustan writers outside of elegy who engage with the concept of “grotesquery”.

Turning towards two influential writers on the works of Latin love elegy, in chapter two Pietropaolo attends to the work of Lucretius (De Rerum Natura) and Catullus, establishing the way both authors manifest the grotesque in their work as it relates to sexual love. Pietropaolo argues that Lucretius dominated the discourse of love and grotesquery in this period, thus implicating his grotesque aesthetic of lovers in the work of future elegists. Turning to Catullus, she then considers the ways in which the poet uses smell and “ignoble objectives” in pursuing a lover to demonstrate the sordid side of sexual conquest. However, while she takes great pains to defend her inclusion of Catullus as a proto-elegist (and rightly so), in chapter two we find a puzzling absence of a similar treatment of Lucretius. Certainly, various scholars have demonstrated intertextual references to Lucretius throughout the elegiac genre.1 However, it seems an odd choice to defend the inclusion of Catullus as an elegist (whose contributions to the genre are largely accepted) while omitting any discussion of Lucretius.1

From here, Pietropaolo begins her close readings in earnest, and her monograph really begins to shine in chapter three. Discussing Propertius 4.7, in which the poet-lover is visited by an apparition of his dead puella, Cynthia, the author here examines the congruence of eroticism and horror in a poem that expresses a kind of black humour. Indeed, Pietropaolo here demonstrates that through a combination of Cynthia’s physical state of decomposition and burning on the funeral pyre and the uncanny noises produced by her, all while her voice is ventriloquized by a male elegist, a kind of dark humour emerges. This original assessment of Propertius 4.7, supported by Pietropaolo’s demonstrated knowledge of elegiac scholarship and her close readings of the text, is the kind of reading produced by the author at her best. Moreover, in combining these apparently incongruous features (death and erotics), Pietropaolo demonstrates the way Propertius uses this aesthetic experience to reveal the instability of the very genre in which he is writing; if beauty degrades and is burned and rotted in death, thus too is the genre which depends upon that beauty.

Chapter four, by contrast, turns to Ovid’s discussion of uitium throughout his work. Here Pietropaolo discusses Ovid’s preoccupation with a physical flaw that enhances the very physical beauty that conceals it. Turning to the uitium of abortion (in Amores 2.13 and 2.14) and cosmetics (in Amores 1.14 and Ars amatoria 3), Pietropaolo seeks to demonstrate how by thwarting the ideal, these uitia reveal the very paradox of elegy, that the genre contains by necessity these uitia which also mark the possible destruction of the genre itself. In this chapter, Pietropaolo unfortunately takes on too much to prove her point, failing to take the time necessary to establish the grotesqueness of these individual uitia, which thus detracts from her conclusion. Her conclusion here has weight, and yet the chapter covers too much ground, failing to provide the close readings that make other parts of this monograph strong. This is a consistent issue throughout this book, especially in the author’s attendance to Ovid, whose works are frequently summarized rather than deeply explored.

Fortunately, from here Pietropaolo returns to her strengths. She turns to a close reading of a series of instances with elegiac lenae that paint a conclusive (and convincing) picture of the lena as an aversive and grotesque character whose role in elegy is essential as an obstacle that the poet-lover will overcome (in part through the grotesque invectives heaped upon her). In chapters five and six, the lenae of Propertius, Tibullus, and Ovid are examined in terms of the grotesquery which seems to define them, and once again Pietropaolo’s close readings are a highlight. Here, they focus on discussions of Propertius’s Acanthis (in chapter five) and Tibullus’s two lenae (in chapter six), which demonstrate the way these characters develop an aesthetic of grotesquery throughout the genre. In her discussion of Acanthis, for example, Pietropaolo discusses the developing image of a repulsive and animalistic woman and successfully connects the insertion of a sacrifice to Venus (Propertius 4.5.65–67) to the image of the dying lena. Demonstrating that Propertius focuses the reading’s attention on the brutally slit throat of a sacrificed dove, Pietropaolo goes on to explore the way this animal’s violent death directly connects with Acanthis’s coming demise. Specifically, Pietropaolo suggests that this passage builds to the image of the lena’s “wrinkly throat” full of “bloody spittle” as Acanthis herself lies dying. This close reading is a compelling example of Pietropaolo’s understanding of these elegiac texts and the way the grotesque is used in the development of the lena as well as its contribution to the genre’s literary aesthetics in which negative emotions and ugliness (Acanthis’s appearance) juxtapose beauty and ideal love (the beautiful elegy within which she speaks and appears). By contrast, Pietropaolo’s brief discussion of Ovid’s Dipsas in chapter six again demonstrates an unfortunate lack of similar attention, yet does not detract from the significant work done on Propertius and Tibullus in establishing the grotesquery of these characters.

Pietropaolo’s concern with elegiac obstacles continues in chapter seven, where she turns to the poet-lover’s rival, the vir. Once again Pietropaolo attempts to cover too much ground and thus her thesis loses strength, although she is at her best when she is closely considering the viri of an individual poet. Beginning with Propertius (consistently a poet whom the author addresses well), Pietropaolo examines the three poems in which the foreign praetor appears, 1.8, 2.16, and 3.20, in order to demonstrate the way Propertius’s vir acts as an animalistic parallel to the poet-lover. Pietropaolo takes time to consider Tibullus as well, demonstrating the way that Tibullus builds off of Propertius’s vir as an echo of the poet-lover. Unfortunately, once again it is when the author considers Ovid that her thesis begins to lose ground, in a section that is far briefer than those dedicated to Tibullus and Propertius, and which only considers a single instance of the vir in Ovid’s Amores (3.8, leaving out 1.4, 2.19, and the poet-lover’s own violence in 1.7), thus narrowing her scope even as she seeks to draw larger conclusions about the character in that text. Thus chapter seven is in many ways emblematic of both the strengths and weaknesses of this book, providing both an excellent close reading and convincing thesis while also over-summarizing elsewhere and thus undercutting its own conclusions.

Turning to Ovid’s Ars Amatoris in chapter eight, Pietropaolo here concerns herself specifically with the account of Pasiphae’s “romance” with the bull and the conception of the Minotaur. Here Pietropaolo provides an interesting analysis of this section in which the sexual relationship between Pasiphae and bull is developed as an elegiac love story. By reconceptualising elegiac love into a relationship of bestiality, Pietropaolo argues that Ovid brings in the spectre of the Minotaur in order to mock the genre’s conventions and highlight the dark side of elegy that exists throughout the genre. In this chapter, Pietropaolo makes a compelling argument. However, this foray into the mythological exempla of elegy (and Ovid in particular) feels decidedly out of place, as the author herself claims earlier (p. 27) to only be addressing elegy set in contemporary Rome. Thus this chapter feels more like a foray into a new project—and a worthwhile one, at that—which addresses the grotesque aesthetic of mythology throughout elegy. As this chapter, however, appears in isolation, a reader of Ovid is unlikely to be convinced, as Pietropaolo neglects to consider the satirical elements of so much of Ovid’s mythological exempla, which could significantly undercut her argument. This chapter is fascinating, and hopefully the first in a further project from the author considering the grotesque in elegy’s mythology, but here it feels out of place in a project focused on the elegy set in Augustan Rome.

Pietropaolo’s monograph proves itself to be a strong contribution to elegiac scholarship with a few unfortunate caveats. When she is writing to her strengths (close readings of Propertius and Tibullus) she does an excellent job of supporting her thesis regarding the importance of the grotesque in the genre as balancing the beauty and ideal love that the poet-lover argues for. By turning usual discussions of aesthetics in elegy towards the “grotesque,” Pietropaolo offers a unique approach that ably responds to contemporary elegiac scholarship and further interrogates elegy’s use of aesthetics. Yet, examining the grotesque in all of elegy proves itself to be outside the purview of this particular project, and unfortunately results in a summarization of elements of Ovid in particular that fails to address significant sections that would only support Pietropaolo’s compelling thesis.

Moreover, Pietropaolo makes some puzzling choices as a modern elegiac scholar, translating all of her elegy into prose in her translations, while failing to translate text in modern languages into English. These are small complaints and do not take away from Pietropaolo’s thesis, but it does contribute to gatekeeping in the field that should no longer be held up as standard and may be a consideration for some potential readers.

The Grotesque in Roman Love Elegy nevertheless offers an important contribution to the field of elegiac scholarship. While Ovidian scholars may find it wanting, students of elegy and those interested in Propertius and Tibullus in particular will find much of interest in Pietropaolo’s work. Moreover, she has demonstrated herself to be an adept close reader of Latin text, and her work has opened the door on an important consideration of elegiac aesthetics that moves beyond ideal beauty.

Table of Contents

1. Premises and Expectations of the Elegiac Grotesque (1–30)
2. Context and Prehistory of the Elegiac Grotesque (31–58)
3. Cynthia and the Grotesque Ethos (59–81)
4. The Ovidian Unmasking of the Elegiac Grotesque (82–113)
5. Revolting and Refined: The Aesthetic Function of Acanthis (114–38)
6. Grotesque Hermeneutics of the Lena in Tibullus and Ovid (139–58)
7. The Rival: A Vir Foedus (159–77)
8. Pasiphae and the Allurement of the Grotesque (179–98)
9. Ovid’s Remedia and the Waning of the Elegiac Grotesque (199–209)

Discussion

1. Your book does an excellent job examining an under-considered element of the aesthetics in Roman elegy. Going forward, what do you think are the next steps for scholars considering both the beautiful and the grotesque in this genre? How would you like to see this tension further explored?

In so far as art is concerned, the beautiful and the grotesque are not exactly opposites, and the grotesque is not a synonym of ugliness, since grotesque art incorporates beauty. Repulsive grotesque phenomena can be found in nature and society, but the artistic grotesque consists of representations of such phenomena as images and sounds, usually in juxtapositions with representations of beauty. Grotesque art makes use of such juxtapositions, focusing particularly on the tension between the two elements, in a way that is aesthetically appealing and intellectually provocative. My book is based on a selective corpus of elegies, including only poems that deal with the love triangle in the elegiac scenario. The genre, however, includes other thematic areas in which it would be very useful to study the presence of the grotesque aesthetic, paying special attention to the relationship between artistic and natural beauty on the one hand,  and the grotesque, both artistic and natural, on the other. 

2. Roman aesthetics are of interest beyond the genre of Latin elegy. Do you see other genres or areas of Roman culture where an academic focus on the grotesque might similarly expand our understanding?

The subject of Roman aesthetics is of great interest beyond the genre of love elegy. This is a field in which much interesting work is being done that is related to grotesque aesthetics. The grotesque aesthetic perspective is a tool that can be fruitfully applied to the study of all the genres of Roman literature, beyond elegy and beyond the Augustan period, each in relation to its historical and formal specificity. Its application could reveal how and why poets and artists use images of grotesque phenomena to give body to works of art designed to generate the kind of aesthetic pleasure and rigorous thinking we associate with the artistic grotesque. Such an approach to the aesthetic treatment of grotesque phenomena in an artistic genre may reveal something unexpected about its capacity to generate a response that includes positive as well negative emotions, and that both affirms and undermines the concept of artistic form on which the genre is based.

I first want to offer my heartfelt thanks for answering my questions and for making your book available for review. Your text has given me a new perspective on elegiac aesthetics, and I find that many of your points regarding elegiac “grotesquery” have continued to affect my readings of elegy even several months later. I’m intrigued to see where you take this in the future and look forward to reading more.