Dionysius of Halicarnassus (Greek: Διονύσιος Ἀλεξάνδρου Ἁλικαρνασσεύς, Dionúsios Alexándrou Halikarnasseús, "Dionysios son of Alexandros of Halikarnassos"; c. 60 BC – after 7 BC) was a Greek historian and teacher of rhetoric, who flourished during the reign of Caesar Augustus. His literary style was Atticistic — imitating Classical Attic Greek in its prime.
Dionysius' opinion of the necessity of a promotion of paideia within education, from true knowledge of Classical sources, endured for centuries in a form integral to the identity of the Greek elite.
Criticism does not have to be complicated. Where writing has succeeded it should be evident and explicable; or if it has failed, the blunders should be marked and their measure taken. I know as a reader I appreciate when a discussion is frank and upfront--the course clear and steady and I am spared the sharp turns, sprints, and evasions. Sure, you would say, but this is not as easy as it sounds. Unfurling our thoughts onto paper is more difficult then it should be, and what we think grandiloquent can be ungainly when written.
It is natural, even preferable then, to write defensively. The risk inherent is that we take it too far and cloud our meaning, or get it knotted in a tangle of arguments. But people are not convinced by things they don't understand--it taxes the attention, does not repay its tithes, and annoys the reader. Besides, discussions of this type are so often finespun and intricate that for all the postures and maneuvers the force is lost. This brings me to my problem, unintended but not unimportant: how do we draw the maximum meaning from our words? By careful diction and studied arrangement can I fill my text with force? Can I grow it, gather it, and when I am ready, unleash it?
For help I turned to a master of rhetoric, Dionysius of Halicarnassus. I have been interested to study what he has to teach, and teach he does. But his writing is difficult to find, and I am left to wonder whether that rhetorician has fallen so far from favor that his books are scarcely circulated. If that's the case then we've suffered a loss. Dionysius is an expert at bringing to maturity rhetorical effect. He knows its rules; states them crisply; and applies them clearly. Our specimen for the commentary is Thucydides' Peloponnesian War. Like a doctor at an exam, Dionysius gets his fingers right into the heart of narrative, and when your hand is brought to it you can feel the palpitations of the text. The analysis is sharp and to the point. Dionysius sets out the features to be discussed, supplies examples, and offers conclusions. The lay out and the language is straightforward--the whole thing flows so smoothly and easily that the reader can imbibe page after page without irritation or ennui. This isn't because his comments are superficial or obvious. The rules that he preaches, on each page are practiced.
However his essay On Thucydides is not inerrant. Dionysius adheres too rigidly to his rules, and so ignores more subtle textures in Thucydides; he obsesses over points of grammar, which he puts to use only to parade his own pet theory of the austere style; the sentence micrology is insightful, but Dionysius has much less to say about how Thucydides builds and relaxes tension--the single most interesting question in rhetorical development; and the passages he quotes are needlessly large and could easily have been shortened. Still, these blemishes hardly counter his accomplishments. And though I don't think Dionysius has taken the reader to the final frontier of rhetorical analysis, his thoughts are well-ordered, clear, and compelling. This trifecta of ability, insight, and obscurity earn my vote of a five star rating.