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Talking Classics: The Shock of the Old
FROM THE BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF EMPEROR OF ROME AND SPQR
'The rock star scholar of Ancient Rome' FINANCIAL TIMES
'The reigning Queen of Classics' SPECTATOR
What's exciting about a piece of bread 4,000 years old? Or some pots of paint abandoned in the eruption at Pompeii? Why should we be bothered with the distant past anyway? What's the point?
The life, art and literature of ancient Greece and Rome have something to offer everyone. They are not the property of wealthy white men only. They make us wonder how to make sense of people who lived long ago (from angry landlords to giggling senators) - and to think harder about our own world, to look at it differently.
In Talking Classics, Mary Beard points to the surprising connections between antiquity and the present. From revolutionaries to dictators, Bob Dylan to Beyoncé, she joins forces with the varied modern characters who have been transfixed by the ancient world. It's not compulsory, she argues, to be excited by antiquity, but it's a shame not to be.
After half a century teaching and studying classics, she fills the book with lively stories, curious facts and some good gossip. Talking Classics explains why the deep past does really affect us all.
'The rock star scholar of Ancient Rome' FINANCIAL TIMES
'The reigning Queen of Classics' SPECTATOR
What's exciting about a piece of bread 4,000 years old? Or some pots of paint abandoned in the eruption at Pompeii? Why should we be bothered with the distant past anyway? What's the point?
The life, art and literature of ancient Greece and Rome have something to offer everyone. They are not the property of wealthy white men only. They make us wonder how to make sense of people who lived long ago (from angry landlords to giggling senators) - and to think harder about our own world, to look at it differently.
In Talking Classics, Mary Beard points to the surprising connections between antiquity and the present. From revolutionaries to dictators, Bob Dylan to Beyoncé, she joins forces with the varied modern characters who have been transfixed by the ancient world. It's not compulsory, she argues, to be excited by antiquity, but it's a shame not to be.
After half a century teaching and studying classics, she fills the book with lively stories, curious facts and some good gossip. Talking Classics explains why the deep past does really affect us all.
192 pages
First published April 16, 2026
About the author
Mary Beard
68 books4,450 followersWinifred Mary Beard (born 1 January 1955) is Professor of Classics at the University of Cambridge and is a fellow of Newnham College. She is the Classics editor of the Times Literary Supplement, and author of the blog "A Don's Life", which appears on The Times as a regular column. Her frequent media appearances and sometimes controversial public statements have led to her being described as "Britain's best-known classicist".
Mary Beard, an only child, was born on 1 January 1955 in Much Wenlock, Shropshire. Her father, Roy Whitbread Beard, worked as an architect in Shrewsbury. She recalled him as "a raffish public-schoolboy type and a complete wastrel, but very engaging". Her mother Joyce Emily Beard was a headmistress and an enthusiastic reader.
Mary Beard attended an all-female direct grant school. During the summer she participated in archaeological excavations; this was initially to earn money for recreational spending, but she began to find the study of antiquity unexpectedly interesting. But it was not all that interested the young Beard. She had friends in many age groups, and a number of trangressions: "Playing around with other people's husbands when you were 17 was bad news. Yes, I was a very naughty girl."
At the age of 18 she was interviewed for a place at Newnham College, Cambridge and sat the then compulsory entrance exam. She had thought of going to King's, but rejected it when she discovered the college did not offer scholarships to women. Although studying at a single-sex college, she found in her first year that some men in the University held dismissive attitudes towards women's academic potential, and this strengthened her determination to succeed. She also developed feminist views that remained "hugely important" in her later life, although she later described "modern orthodox feminism" as partly "cant". Beard received an MA at Newnham and remained in Cambridge for her PhD.
From 1979 to 1983 she lectured in Classics at King's College London. She returned to Cambridge in 1984 as a fellow of Newnham College and the only female lecturer in the Classics faculty. Rome in the Late Republic, which she co-wrote with the Cambridge ancient historian Michael Crawford, was published the same year. In 1985 Beard married Robin Sinclair Cormack. She had a daughter in 1985 and a son in 1987. Beard became Classics editor of the Times Literary Supplement in 1992.
Shortly after the 11 September 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center, Beard was one of several authors invited to contribute articles on the topic to the London Review of Books. She opined that many people, once "the shock had faded", thought "the United States had it coming", and that "[w]orld bullies, even if their heart is in the right place, will in the end pay the price".[4] In a November 2007 interview, she stated that the hostility these comments provoked had still not subsided, although she believed it had become a standard viewpoint that terrorism was associated with American foreign policy.[1]
In 2004, Beard became the Professor of Classics at Cambridge.[3] She is also the Visiting Sather Professor of Classical Literature for 2008–2009 at the University of California, Berkeley, where she has delivered a series of lectures on "Roman Laughter".[5]
Mary Beard, an only child, was born on 1 January 1955 in Much Wenlock, Shropshire. Her father, Roy Whitbread Beard, worked as an architect in Shrewsbury. She recalled him as "a raffish public-schoolboy type and a complete wastrel, but very engaging". Her mother Joyce Emily Beard was a headmistress and an enthusiastic reader.
Mary Beard attended an all-female direct grant school. During the summer she participated in archaeological excavations; this was initially to earn money for recreational spending, but she began to find the study of antiquity unexpectedly interesting. But it was not all that interested the young Beard. She had friends in many age groups, and a number of trangressions: "Playing around with other people's husbands when you were 17 was bad news. Yes, I was a very naughty girl."
At the age of 18 she was interviewed for a place at Newnham College, Cambridge and sat the then compulsory entrance exam. She had thought of going to King's, but rejected it when she discovered the college did not offer scholarships to women. Although studying at a single-sex college, she found in her first year that some men in the University held dismissive attitudes towards women's academic potential, and this strengthened her determination to succeed. She also developed feminist views that remained "hugely important" in her later life, although she later described "modern orthodox feminism" as partly "cant". Beard received an MA at Newnham and remained in Cambridge for her PhD.
From 1979 to 1983 she lectured in Classics at King's College London. She returned to Cambridge in 1984 as a fellow of Newnham College and the only female lecturer in the Classics faculty. Rome in the Late Republic, which she co-wrote with the Cambridge ancient historian Michael Crawford, was published the same year. In 1985 Beard married Robin Sinclair Cormack. She had a daughter in 1985 and a son in 1987. Beard became Classics editor of the Times Literary Supplement in 1992.
Shortly after the 11 September 2001 attacks on the World Trade Center, Beard was one of several authors invited to contribute articles on the topic to the London Review of Books. She opined that many people, once "the shock had faded", thought "the United States had it coming", and that "[w]orld bullies, even if their heart is in the right place, will in the end pay the price".[4] In a November 2007 interview, she stated that the hostility these comments provoked had still not subsided, although she believed it had become a standard viewpoint that terrorism was associated with American foreign policy.[1]
In 2004, Beard became the Professor of Classics at Cambridge.[3] She is also the Visiting Sather Professor of Classical Literature for 2008–2009 at the University of California, Berkeley, where she has delivered a series of lectures on "Roman Laughter".[5]
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 220 reviews
July 29, 2026
Mary Beard — Talking Classics: The Shock of the Old
I loved this book. 5 stars.
Talking Classics: The Shock of the Old is not a conventional history book, nor is it a tightly argued work in the mold of SPQR. In many ways, it feels more like sitting in a lecture hall, bookstore, or coffee shop listening to Mary Beard think aloud about Greece, Rome, politics, art, teaching, and why the ancient world still matters.
And that is very much part of its charm.
At first, I wondered if I was missing something. My reading came in fits and starts — interrupted by life, work, family, and Cubs baseball. But then it clicked: this book almost invites that style of reading. It reads like a collection of lectures, essays, conversations, and reflections tied together by a larger purpose.
The hidden structure, for me, is right there in the title: The Shock of the Old.
Beard is not trying to reassure us that the classics are comfortable or safely familiar. She wants antiquity to remain strange, provocative, alive, and occasionally unsettling. She explores not only ancient Greece and Rome themselves, but also how later generations reinvent, politicize, romanticize, and weaponize the classical past.
Several sections especially stayed with me.
One explores Jean-Baptiste Wicar’s painting of Virgil reading the Aeneid to Augustus’ family, with Octavia overcome at the mention of her dead son Marcellus — a powerful example of how later artists emotionally reimagined Rome. As a Chicago guy who loves his city, I especially appreciated that Wicar’s magnificent painting hangs at the Art Institute of Chicago, one of my favorite places. Beard uses examples like this beautifully to show that we are not simply looking at ancient Rome itself, but at later generations interpreting, reshaping, and finding meaning in antiquity.
Another fascinating thread involves archaeologist Ranuccio Bianchi Bandinelli and his uneasy role guiding Hitler and Mussolini through Rome in 1938. Beard’s discussion left me slightly obsessed with finding a copy of Bandinelli’s memoir Hitler and Mussolini Visit Rome. The thought of an archaeologist serving as guide to those two fascist leaders through the monuments and symbolism of imperial Rome is irresistible history. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall.
That section struck a personal chord because I was fortunate enough to visit Rome and the Forum recently. Beard’s discussion brought back a flood of memories. Bandinelli is right and Beard is right: Mussolini is performing. In some ways, he is attempting an Augustan performance through Roman imagery, monuments, archaeology, and imperial symbolism. Yet where Augustus worked with extraordinary sophistication — literature, religion, architecture, and political storytelling woven together with remarkable finesse — Mussolini’s version often feels more blunt, modern, and overtly propagandistic. A kind of half-baked attempt to flatten Rome into an authoritarian brand. Still, some of the visual power of modern Rome undeniably owes something to those interventions, uncomfortable though that truth may be.
Beyond the scholarship — which is, of course, formidable — what makes this book special is Mary Beard herself.
She is energetic, funny, honest, deeply knowledgeable without being stuffy, and entirely comfortable in her own skin.
I recently had the privilege of seeing her speak in Chicago and meeting her afterward. She generously took time to personalize books and speak warmly with readers. The same qualities that make her such a compelling public intellectual come through vividly on the page.
This is not a book that places the classics on a marble pedestal.
It is a book that asks us to use them — argue with them, question them, learn from them, and understand how power, memory, culture, and storytelling continue to shape both the ancient world and our own. Highly recommended.
You have made it this far- Find out about the greatest literary Sunday ever! https://open.substack.com/pub/lposse1...
I loved this book. 5 stars.
Talking Classics: The Shock of the Old is not a conventional history book, nor is it a tightly argued work in the mold of SPQR. In many ways, it feels more like sitting in a lecture hall, bookstore, or coffee shop listening to Mary Beard think aloud about Greece, Rome, politics, art, teaching, and why the ancient world still matters.
And that is very much part of its charm.
At first, I wondered if I was missing something. My reading came in fits and starts — interrupted by life, work, family, and Cubs baseball. But then it clicked: this book almost invites that style of reading. It reads like a collection of lectures, essays, conversations, and reflections tied together by a larger purpose.
The hidden structure, for me, is right there in the title: The Shock of the Old.
Beard is not trying to reassure us that the classics are comfortable or safely familiar. She wants antiquity to remain strange, provocative, alive, and occasionally unsettling. She explores not only ancient Greece and Rome themselves, but also how later generations reinvent, politicize, romanticize, and weaponize the classical past.
Several sections especially stayed with me.
One explores Jean-Baptiste Wicar’s painting of Virgil reading the Aeneid to Augustus’ family, with Octavia overcome at the mention of her dead son Marcellus — a powerful example of how later artists emotionally reimagined Rome. As a Chicago guy who loves his city, I especially appreciated that Wicar’s magnificent painting hangs at the Art Institute of Chicago, one of my favorite places. Beard uses examples like this beautifully to show that we are not simply looking at ancient Rome itself, but at later generations interpreting, reshaping, and finding meaning in antiquity.
Another fascinating thread involves archaeologist Ranuccio Bianchi Bandinelli and his uneasy role guiding Hitler and Mussolini through Rome in 1938. Beard’s discussion left me slightly obsessed with finding a copy of Bandinelli’s memoir Hitler and Mussolini Visit Rome. The thought of an archaeologist serving as guide to those two fascist leaders through the monuments and symbolism of imperial Rome is irresistible history. I would have loved to be a fly on the wall.
That section struck a personal chord because I was fortunate enough to visit Rome and the Forum recently. Beard’s discussion brought back a flood of memories. Bandinelli is right and Beard is right: Mussolini is performing. In some ways, he is attempting an Augustan performance through Roman imagery, monuments, archaeology, and imperial symbolism. Yet where Augustus worked with extraordinary sophistication — literature, religion, architecture, and political storytelling woven together with remarkable finesse — Mussolini’s version often feels more blunt, modern, and overtly propagandistic. A kind of half-baked attempt to flatten Rome into an authoritarian brand. Still, some of the visual power of modern Rome undeniably owes something to those interventions, uncomfortable though that truth may be.
Beyond the scholarship — which is, of course, formidable — what makes this book special is Mary Beard herself.
She is energetic, funny, honest, deeply knowledgeable without being stuffy, and entirely comfortable in her own skin.
I recently had the privilege of seeing her speak in Chicago and meeting her afterward. She generously took time to personalize books and speak warmly with readers. The same qualities that make her such a compelling public intellectual come through vividly on the page.
This is not a book that places the classics on a marble pedestal.
It is a book that asks us to use them — argue with them, question them, learn from them, and understand how power, memory, culture, and storytelling continue to shape both the ancient world and our own. Highly recommended.
You have made it this far- Find out about the greatest literary Sunday ever! https://open.substack.com/pub/lposse1...
July 23, 2026
This is the perfect companion to watching and discussing The Odyssey.
Mary Beard loves the classics, without idealizing them. She prefers to be honest about their imperfections, in order to celebrate what is so great about them. She has the personal stories to make you understand her journey, but as a professor she also has the data, and knows how wrong or right the myths people use nowadays for political gains actually are. It is a book that can give you the perspective to talk about the classics or our culture today and make you see why elitism and isolation should remain things of the past.
Mary Beard loves the classics, without idealizing them. She prefers to be honest about their imperfections, in order to celebrate what is so great about them. She has the personal stories to make you understand her journey, but as a professor she also has the data, and knows how wrong or right the myths people use nowadays for political gains actually are. It is a book that can give you the perspective to talk about the classics or our culture today and make you see why elitism and isolation should remain things of the past.
May 18, 2026
A somewhat serious discussion of the merits of studying or at least being familiar with, Ancient World Classics in the 21st century. She’s honest about the pomposity that often goes with these studies and the modern racism that is trying to cherry pick what they like for their own political agendas.
One point that will stay with me was that in this world where free speech is being attacked from both the left and the right, discussions concerning the current world are often hamstrung by people not saying what they think in case they offend someone, or regurgitating inflammatory slogans they’ve absorbed. In contrast a discussion regarding figures and actions from the ancient past from whatever culture frees people up to speak their mind and therefore have reasoned debates of ideas - is so and so to be considered good etc.
Mary Beard has a lively way of presenting ideas and so anyone with an interest in the ancient world would find this worthwhile.
NOTE: Prof Mary Beard has written many books and participated in many TV series that are worth checking out.
One point that will stay with me was that in this world where free speech is being attacked from both the left and the right, discussions concerning the current world are often hamstrung by people not saying what they think in case they offend someone, or regurgitating inflammatory slogans they’ve absorbed. In contrast a discussion regarding figures and actions from the ancient past from whatever culture frees people up to speak their mind and therefore have reasoned debates of ideas - is so and so to be considered good etc.
Mary Beard has a lively way of presenting ideas and so anyone with an interest in the ancient world would find this worthwhile.
NOTE: Prof Mary Beard has written many books and participated in many TV series that are worth checking out.
June 23, 2026
Maybe this should be renamed Defending the Classics.
Renowned classicist, Mary Beard, explores why the ancient world continues to fascinate us.
Told in a conversational tone, Beard connects ancient objects—like Pompeian paint pots and graffiti in Herculaneum latrines—to modern figures and events, including Bob Dylan, Beyoncé, and the 9/11 memorial.
She dismisses traditional arguments in favour of studying classics to inherently improve civilisation and morality. After all, it has historically served as a gatekeeper of social privilege.
The value of classics to me is the ability to reflect on history and to debate philosophies and ideas. I appreciated that Beard made this very accessible and worked to break down the myths about the people who study the myths.
Overall, a bite-sized book that is part memoir, part see-through glass, part sharing of a passion.
I wouldn’t recommend this book to newbies or anyone wanting to educate themselves about the classics per se, but someone wanting to know about the reason behind studying classics in the modern day.
Physical arc gifted by author.
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Renowned classicist, Mary Beard, explores why the ancient world continues to fascinate us.
Told in a conversational tone, Beard connects ancient objects—like Pompeian paint pots and graffiti in Herculaneum latrines—to modern figures and events, including Bob Dylan, Beyoncé, and the 9/11 memorial.
She dismisses traditional arguments in favour of studying classics to inherently improve civilisation and morality. After all, it has historically served as a gatekeeper of social privilege.
The value of classics to me is the ability to reflect on history and to debate philosophies and ideas. I appreciated that Beard made this very accessible and worked to break down the myths about the people who study the myths.
Overall, a bite-sized book that is part memoir, part see-through glass, part sharing of a passion.
I wouldn’t recommend this book to newbies or anyone wanting to educate themselves about the classics per se, but someone wanting to know about the reason behind studying classics in the modern day.
Physical arc gifted by author.
Bookstagram
Tiktok
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August 27, 2026There is huge pleasure, and something of a relief, in recognising common humanity across the centuries.
Há um leitmotiv para os meus últimos meses que já escapa ao meu controlo. E é ele que está na origem desta leitura uma vez que Talking Classics me foi oferecido porque, às páginas tantas, reproduz uma pequenina fotografia de quatro indivíduos que recriam a famosa cena de Abbey Road enquanto atravessam uma passadeira em Pompeia.
Mas isso, embora alimente a minha espécie de obsessão, não chega para se qualificar como mais do que uma curiosidade. E eu pergunto-me, então, para quem terá Mary Beard escrito este livro?
Talking Classics — The shock of the old (quase pressinto uma tradução ao pé da letra pelo mercado português), mais não é do que uma breve reflexão sobre a coerência, relevância e vida dos estudos clássicos. Uma espécie de defesa (ou remate) de uma área de estudos que é tão multíplice como as disciplinas que aborda. Agora, para quem venha de Humanidades e Estudos Clássicos (ou quem, como eu apenas tenha feito lá uma perninha de que nunca vai deixar de se gabar), é inútil o argumentar a favor das Clássicas; e para quem está tão apostado a nelas ver qualquer coisa de retrógrado, como fazer sequer chegar-lhes este delgado volume?
Sendo assim, este é outro livro produzido pela Academia, sob uma capa de publicação leiga, para a Academia (algo que perturba cada vez mais): um volume que pretende ser tranquilizante e que garante a quem sente a sua área de estudos ameaçada que não está sozinho na sua defesa, que tem razões, aliás, para a defender, e que há espaço comercial para essa mesma defesa. E talvez seja injusto querer ler nele muito mais do que isso.
A minha suspeita é esta, mas os argumentos de Beard em Talking Classics são interessantes. Começando por enfrentar uma das dificuldades mais óbvias de qualquer tentativa contemporânea de falar dos clássicos, a autora pergunta-se como evitar tanto o julgamento moral retrospectivo como a fantasia de uma objectividade sem valores:
I have often been told off, espelacially on social media, for criticising the Romans rather than simply discussing them dispassionately, in their own terms. ('Mary Beard should keep her own views out of it.') I see the point. It gets you nowhere simply to find the past guilty of not being like the present. But at the same time, you cannot just abandon your ethics at the study door. And you cannot have a conversation with the classical past, if you allow yourself no voice in that conversation at all. Is it really off limits to make some ethical judgement over murderous gladiatorial games, gruesome crucifixions or mass enslavements? The point is to try to understand and evaluate antiquity both through ancient eyes and through modern ones. But how exactly do you balance the two?
E, sobretudo, questiona as razões pelas quais se mantém relevante usar os Estudos Clássicos como terreno de debate seguro:
the very remoteness of classics is one of its hidden practical strengths in the curriculum. No one, neither teacher nor student, has any personal skin in the game, and they don't own the subject. The Greeks and Romans are long dead, they cannot answer back, and you can say what you like about them. The simple fact that classics belongs to none of us can make it a safe space to argue about the most difficult debates we face now — from race to sexual violence and gender identity.
Beard sabe, melhor do que ninguém, a condição inevitável do passado: a necessidade de o encarar não como mandamento, mas como uma espécie de palimpsesto a que vamos acrescentando camada sobre camada da nossa própria História, fazendo e refazendo a sua importância sem nunca nos defazermos do sentimento de tragédia a que assistem os milénios que nos separam:
we never do (and never can) bridge the gap between us and them. The wondrous, breathtaking, up-close ordinariness of the ancients never quite dispels the equally wondrous distance that will always separate their past from our here and now.
Mas é isso, defende a classicista, precisamente aquilo que mantém a história e a cultura clássicas relevantes:
Debate, disagreement, and questioning are what classics has to offer, not certainty, truth, beauty or relevance in the way that people often like to imagine.
[...]
I have learned that you get a lot more out of classics if you allow it to be a disruptive challenge to self-serving modern certainties, rather than turn it into an untouchable ancestor in whose shadow you should count yourself lucky to sit.
Ainda assim, pergunto, será que a distância dos clássicos realmente produz um espaço seguro? Ou será que essa suposta segurança é ela própria uma construção?
Beard não é uma novata e muito menos uma idealista: sabe perfeitamente que os clássicos (e as Clássicas) não devem funcionar como um monumento reconfortante ao passado. O que significa que Talking Classics pretende defender a relevância dos Estudos Clássicos, mas acaba por demonstrar — talvez involuntariamente — a dificuldade contemporânea de os justificar, precisamente porque já não pode pressupor a autoridade cultural que tradicionalmente os legitimava.
Além disso, quem decide que os Estudos Clássicos «são de ninguém» («classics belongs to none of us»)? Desde quando a distância temporal e cultural elimina a dimensão política?
As implicações contemporâneas sobre violência sexual, escravatura, género ou raça não se volatilizam porque o objeto de estudo é romano ou grego. Ou seja, a distância temporal não elimina a dimensão política; simplesmente a torna menos imediatamente reconhecível — permitindo aferir com maior sangue frio (porque não se refere explicitamente a nós). Ela pode alterar a forma como essa dimensão é percebida, mas não a elimina. A distância é uma vantagem meramente cognitiva.
Classics gives you, and should give you, no place to hide, though you do sometimes need support to look it in the eye. That's what teachers, not trigger warnings, are for.
Se o estudo das Clássicas deve oferecer um espaço de desconforto e confronto, por que razão é necessário um livro para defender a sua relevância?
Beard não tem as respostas todas. E eu muito menos.
Mas aqui a ideia de palimpsesto volta a ser útil: a ideia de que o passado nunca é apenas nosso; é constantemente reescrito por outros.
Pois aquilo de que eu gostava mesmo era agora que alguém oferecesse a Mary Beard um exemplar de Astérix na Lusitânia — oficialmente reconhecido pelos intrépidos gauleses, Beard não terá como continuar a ignorar o facto de que Portugal existe e não é Espanha.
Há um leitmotiv para os meus últimos meses que já escapa ao meu controlo. E é ele que está na origem desta leitura uma vez que Talking Classics me foi oferecido porque, às páginas tantas, reproduz uma pequenina fotografia de quatro indivíduos que recriam a famosa cena de Abbey Road enquanto atravessam uma passadeira em Pompeia.
Mas isso, embora alimente a minha espécie de obsessão, não chega para se qualificar como mais do que uma curiosidade. E eu pergunto-me, então, para quem terá Mary Beard escrito este livro?
Talking Classics — The shock of the old (quase pressinto uma tradução ao pé da letra pelo mercado português), mais não é do que uma breve reflexão sobre a coerência, relevância e vida dos estudos clássicos. Uma espécie de defesa (ou remate) de uma área de estudos que é tão multíplice como as disciplinas que aborda. Agora, para quem venha de Humanidades e Estudos Clássicos (ou quem, como eu apenas tenha feito lá uma perninha de que nunca vai deixar de se gabar), é inútil o argumentar a favor das Clássicas; e para quem está tão apostado a nelas ver qualquer coisa de retrógrado, como fazer sequer chegar-lhes este delgado volume?
Sendo assim, este é outro livro produzido pela Academia, sob uma capa de publicação leiga, para a Academia (algo que perturba cada vez mais): um volume que pretende ser tranquilizante e que garante a quem sente a sua área de estudos ameaçada que não está sozinho na sua defesa, que tem razões, aliás, para a defender, e que há espaço comercial para essa mesma defesa. E talvez seja injusto querer ler nele muito mais do que isso.
A minha suspeita é esta, mas os argumentos de Beard em Talking Classics são interessantes. Começando por enfrentar uma das dificuldades mais óbvias de qualquer tentativa contemporânea de falar dos clássicos, a autora pergunta-se como evitar tanto o julgamento moral retrospectivo como a fantasia de uma objectividade sem valores:
I have often been told off, espelacially on social media, for criticising the Romans rather than simply discussing them dispassionately, in their own terms. ('Mary Beard should keep her own views out of it.') I see the point. It gets you nowhere simply to find the past guilty of not being like the present. But at the same time, you cannot just abandon your ethics at the study door. And you cannot have a conversation with the classical past, if you allow yourself no voice in that conversation at all. Is it really off limits to make some ethical judgement over murderous gladiatorial games, gruesome crucifixions or mass enslavements? The point is to try to understand and evaluate antiquity both through ancient eyes and through modern ones. But how exactly do you balance the two?
E, sobretudo, questiona as razões pelas quais se mantém relevante usar os Estudos Clássicos como terreno de debate seguro:
the very remoteness of classics is one of its hidden practical strengths in the curriculum. No one, neither teacher nor student, has any personal skin in the game, and they don't own the subject. The Greeks and Romans are long dead, they cannot answer back, and you can say what you like about them. The simple fact that classics belongs to none of us can make it a safe space to argue about the most difficult debates we face now — from race to sexual violence and gender identity.
Beard sabe, melhor do que ninguém, a condição inevitável do passado: a necessidade de o encarar não como mandamento, mas como uma espécie de palimpsesto a que vamos acrescentando camada sobre camada da nossa própria História, fazendo e refazendo a sua importância sem nunca nos defazermos do sentimento de tragédia a que assistem os milénios que nos separam:
we never do (and never can) bridge the gap between us and them. The wondrous, breathtaking, up-close ordinariness of the ancients never quite dispels the equally wondrous distance that will always separate their past from our here and now.
Mas é isso, defende a classicista, precisamente aquilo que mantém a história e a cultura clássicas relevantes:
Debate, disagreement, and questioning are what classics has to offer, not certainty, truth, beauty or relevance in the way that people often like to imagine.
[...]
I have learned that you get a lot more out of classics if you allow it to be a disruptive challenge to self-serving modern certainties, rather than turn it into an untouchable ancestor in whose shadow you should count yourself lucky to sit.
Ainda assim, pergunto, será que a distância dos clássicos realmente produz um espaço seguro? Ou será que essa suposta segurança é ela própria uma construção?
Beard não é uma novata e muito menos uma idealista: sabe perfeitamente que os clássicos (e as Clássicas) não devem funcionar como um monumento reconfortante ao passado. O que significa que Talking Classics pretende defender a relevância dos Estudos Clássicos, mas acaba por demonstrar — talvez involuntariamente — a dificuldade contemporânea de os justificar, precisamente porque já não pode pressupor a autoridade cultural que tradicionalmente os legitimava.
Além disso, quem decide que os Estudos Clássicos «são de ninguém» («classics belongs to none of us»)? Desde quando a distância temporal e cultural elimina a dimensão política?
As implicações contemporâneas sobre violência sexual, escravatura, género ou raça não se volatilizam porque o objeto de estudo é romano ou grego. Ou seja, a distância temporal não elimina a dimensão política; simplesmente a torna menos imediatamente reconhecível — permitindo aferir com maior sangue frio (porque não se refere explicitamente a nós). Ela pode alterar a forma como essa dimensão é percebida, mas não a elimina. A distância é uma vantagem meramente cognitiva.
Classics gives you, and should give you, no place to hide, though you do sometimes need support to look it in the eye. That's what teachers, not trigger warnings, are for.
Se o estudo das Clássicas deve oferecer um espaço de desconforto e confronto, por que razão é necessário um livro para defender a sua relevância?
Beard não tem as respostas todas. E eu muito menos.
Mas aqui a ideia de palimpsesto volta a ser útil: a ideia de que o passado nunca é apenas nosso; é constantemente reescrito por outros.
Pois aquilo de que eu gostava mesmo era agora que alguém oferecesse a Mary Beard um exemplar de Astérix na Lusitânia — oficialmente reconhecido pelos intrépidos gauleses, Beard não terá como continuar a ignorar o facto de que Portugal existe e não é Espanha.
April 17, 2026
This book was magnificent. This was the epitome of the blending of two traits which I find most admirable in any human I come across: Passion and Nuance.
Passion, because any sufficiently motivated human can make any subject interesting and deeply moving simply by imbuing it with their force of feeling, and secondly, being willing to be passionate about something while equally holding the truth that you have more questions than answers, and that there may not even be objective answers in the first place, is one of the most difficult places for a human mind to continually inhabit, yet it is imperative for a well functioning society.
I have always been interested in the ancients (not just the Romans and Greeks, I also include, as Ms. Beard does, the Assyrians, the Egyptians, and ancient cultures from every language family and corner of the globe). Primarily because I do believe as a general rule that things which are handed down pass some sort of filtration system and are worth respecting, simply due to their survival of that process. Now, that process has a metric ton of caveats on both ends, things which are of incalculable value are lost, and things akin to excrement are preserved for decades, centuries or millenia.
The author begins the first half of the book by displaying her personal reasons for loving the classics, and how she has found a 50 year rewarding career out of it. I found this infectious and very useful, the author very emphatically NOT revering the classics but interrogating them as we would anything else, seeing the humor, putrescence, glory, and evil in turn, and calling it out as such. Don't let your view of this history be spoiled by some faux need for reverence of these dusty old figures, see them as real people and it will be far more rewarding.
But the way the author frames the value of the Classics today was the real gem of this book. To paraphrase a few of my favorite passages from the author: "The focus should not be on 'what does classics teach you about', and should be 'What does it teach you to do?':
- First, 'Classics teaches you to argue responsibly on the basis of inadequate evdience' (ancient history is always demanding that we face the gaps in what we know and then make a good case) - a sentiment in scant supply in our day and age.
- Secondly, 'Classics teaches you to discuss constructively questions to which there are no right answers, or any answers at all in the usual sense of the word'. ... "Part of the unashamed mission of humanities education is to celebrate and face up to complexity, not trade in false simplicity. That is what we do."
I will leave with yet another quote from this book: "Classics teaches you to grapple with ideas you don't understand, from an alien world you have never visited; to see how words can be used to enlighten, please, confuse, and deceive; and to realise that you sometimes have to struggle very hard to get the meaning."
Thanks to NetGalley and University of Chicago Press for this eARC
Passion, because any sufficiently motivated human can make any subject interesting and deeply moving simply by imbuing it with their force of feeling, and secondly, being willing to be passionate about something while equally holding the truth that you have more questions than answers, and that there may not even be objective answers in the first place, is one of the most difficult places for a human mind to continually inhabit, yet it is imperative for a well functioning society.
I have always been interested in the ancients (not just the Romans and Greeks, I also include, as Ms. Beard does, the Assyrians, the Egyptians, and ancient cultures from every language family and corner of the globe). Primarily because I do believe as a general rule that things which are handed down pass some sort of filtration system and are worth respecting, simply due to their survival of that process. Now, that process has a metric ton of caveats on both ends, things which are of incalculable value are lost, and things akin to excrement are preserved for decades, centuries or millenia.
The author begins the first half of the book by displaying her personal reasons for loving the classics, and how she has found a 50 year rewarding career out of it. I found this infectious and very useful, the author very emphatically NOT revering the classics but interrogating them as we would anything else, seeing the humor, putrescence, glory, and evil in turn, and calling it out as such. Don't let your view of this history be spoiled by some faux need for reverence of these dusty old figures, see them as real people and it will be far more rewarding.
But the way the author frames the value of the Classics today was the real gem of this book. To paraphrase a few of my favorite passages from the author: "The focus should not be on 'what does classics teach you about', and should be 'What does it teach you to do?':
- First, 'Classics teaches you to argue responsibly on the basis of inadequate evdience' (ancient history is always demanding that we face the gaps in what we know and then make a good case) - a sentiment in scant supply in our day and age.
- Secondly, 'Classics teaches you to discuss constructively questions to which there are no right answers, or any answers at all in the usual sense of the word'. ... "Part of the unashamed mission of humanities education is to celebrate and face up to complexity, not trade in false simplicity. That is what we do."
I will leave with yet another quote from this book: "Classics teaches you to grapple with ideas you don't understand, from an alien world you have never visited; to see how words can be used to enlighten, please, confuse, and deceive; and to realise that you sometimes have to struggle very hard to get the meaning."
Thanks to NetGalley and University of Chicago Press for this eARC
August 21, 2026
Four brilliantly essays exploring the relevance of the classics today written by the inimitable Mary Beard.
She has always made Ancient Greece and Rome accessible and this latest book takes us on an exploration as to how we relate to, further understand and fully value the classics from various perspectives.
Combining the past and present, raising pertinent and relevant questions, the case for the classics to be valued is challenging and highly rewarding.
An excellent read
She has always made Ancient Greece and Rome accessible and this latest book takes us on an exploration as to how we relate to, further understand and fully value the classics from various perspectives.
Combining the past and present, raising pertinent and relevant questions, the case for the classics to be valued is challenging and highly rewarding.
An excellent read
July 5, 2026
“Classic” — what a contested word, what a contested idea. Mary Beard’s field is “classics,” meaning the history and writings of the ancient Greek and Roman worlds, but in “Talking Classics” as in her other work, she’s at some pains to debunk the clichés that underpin white supremacist and masculinist readings. For one thing, there’s the obvious symbolic point that all those white marble statues used to be brightly painted. For another, “all cultures are always hybrid,” as Beard points out early on. To consider only (well, “only”) the writing that survives from her period, “almost as much of it is by writers from North Africa, Spain and Syria as from mainland Greece and Italy.”
But: “You can’t think hard about classics without facing up to [the field’s] reputation as a friend of fascism and imperialism, as a bastion of privilege, exploitation and social exclusion.” Have you ever heard of “lady’s Greek”? It’s ancient Greek written without a bajillion diacriticals. The diacriticals are the “correct” way to read and write the language … except, oops, the marks were mostly a product of seventh-century C.E. Byzantine scholarship, not of the actual ancient Greeks. The punch line here is that right up until Beard’s own generation — she’s a late Boomer, like me — fancy Brit boys’ schools taught the diacriticals but girls’ schools didn’t. Note “fancy”: petty exclusions even for the elite. As for the rest of us, see “white marble statues,” above.
“Taking Classics” is itself a hybrid: mostly a relaxed conversation with the reader about how “the shock of the old” — the very alienness of ancient Mediterranean culture — can encourage examination of our own lives and times, it’s also, in part, a memoir. Like many villains and heroes, Beard has an origin story to tell. She was five, visiting the British Museum with her mother, who dragged her away from the mummies to the “everyday life” exhibit. Wee Mary there demanded a good look at a piece of ancient Egyptian bread (Egyptian: Egypt was an important province of Rome, remember), that was way in the back of the display case. Here comes the magic moment: a passing curator registered her urgent wish to see the bread, unlocked the case, and took out the bread and held it close to her nose. Thus the making of a classicist. (The story’s flavor — sorry — will be familiar if you too had a eureka moment that taught you your vocation.)
I said that “Talking Classics” is relaxed. It’s taken from a series of lectures Beard gave at the University of Chicago a few years ago, and like almost all books based on a series of talks it has its saggy and repetitive bits. Never mind. Beard is good intellectual company; she makes a satisfying case for the thauma, the wonder and miracle, of engaging with ancient peoples whose lives and minds are at once familiar and shockingly alien. Thanks to the University of Chicago Press and NetGalley for the ARC; no thanks for the irony that since Beard gave these lectures, the university has paused admissions to its graduate humanities programs. All of them, including classics.
4.5 stars rounded up because I enjoyed myself so much. Also, yes, I know it should properly be called The British Assemblage of Cool Stuff We Stole from All Over the World; Beard says the relevant loaf of bread, which was found in Luxor, "was given" to the museum, and I'm afraid the passive voice is doing a lot of work there. At the same time I defy pretty much anyone to visit the place and not be enthralled -- which, same goes for most of the big museums in the global North. Sigh.
But: “You can’t think hard about classics without facing up to [the field’s] reputation as a friend of fascism and imperialism, as a bastion of privilege, exploitation and social exclusion.” Have you ever heard of “lady’s Greek”? It’s ancient Greek written without a bajillion diacriticals. The diacriticals are the “correct” way to read and write the language … except, oops, the marks were mostly a product of seventh-century C.E. Byzantine scholarship, not of the actual ancient Greeks. The punch line here is that right up until Beard’s own generation — she’s a late Boomer, like me — fancy Brit boys’ schools taught the diacriticals but girls’ schools didn’t. Note “fancy”: petty exclusions even for the elite. As for the rest of us, see “white marble statues,” above.
“Taking Classics” is itself a hybrid: mostly a relaxed conversation with the reader about how “the shock of the old” — the very alienness of ancient Mediterranean culture — can encourage examination of our own lives and times, it’s also, in part, a memoir. Like many villains and heroes, Beard has an origin story to tell. She was five, visiting the British Museum with her mother, who dragged her away from the mummies to the “everyday life” exhibit. Wee Mary there demanded a good look at a piece of ancient Egyptian bread (Egyptian: Egypt was an important province of Rome, remember), that was way in the back of the display case. Here comes the magic moment: a passing curator registered her urgent wish to see the bread, unlocked the case, and took out the bread and held it close to her nose. Thus the making of a classicist. (The story’s flavor — sorry — will be familiar if you too had a eureka moment that taught you your vocation.)
I said that “Talking Classics” is relaxed. It’s taken from a series of lectures Beard gave at the University of Chicago a few years ago, and like almost all books based on a series of talks it has its saggy and repetitive bits. Never mind. Beard is good intellectual company; she makes a satisfying case for the thauma, the wonder and miracle, of engaging with ancient peoples whose lives and minds are at once familiar and shockingly alien. Thanks to the University of Chicago Press and NetGalley for the ARC; no thanks for the irony that since Beard gave these lectures, the university has paused admissions to its graduate humanities programs. All of them, including classics.
4.5 stars rounded up because I enjoyed myself so much. Also, yes, I know it should properly be called The British Assemblage of Cool Stuff We Stole from All Over the World; Beard says the relevant loaf of bread, which was found in Luxor, "was given" to the museum, and I'm afraid the passive voice is doing a lot of work there. At the same time I defy pretty much anyone to visit the place and not be enthralled -- which, same goes for most of the big museums in the global North. Sigh.
February 3, 2026
I was permitted to read an advance copy of this book through Netgalley.
This book is going to surprise a lot of the people who pick it up and start it. I sat down and literally couldn’t stop reading.
Rather than attempting to explain why classic texts are important and relevant, this book instead takes a more remarkable approach. Author Mary Beard says, “Debate, disagreement, and questioning are what classics has to offer, not certainty, truth, beauty or relevance in the way that people often like to imagine. It's fruitless to pretend that the Greeks and Romans offer a useful guide to living now.”
As a lifelong explorer of the Greek and Roman worlds, the author possesses a deep and obvious expertise on this topic. Could she really be saying that the classics don’t matter? The answer, incredibly, is both yes and no.
Beard challenges many current assumptions about the ancient world. Was the burning of the library at Alexandria the worst disaster in human history? All that knowledge lost, all of the ancient voices and opinions and ancient accounts of everyday events snuffed out. Or was it? Beard reminds us that the sheer volume of material that we retain, compared to even more recent events, remains immense. Cataloguing the material that exists from Greece and Rome could occupy a lifetime.
Beard says, “Classical literature has forced me to think harder, face the uncomfortable, and to reread what I had thought I had understood.” This may be the ultimate value of classical literature, to force us to indulge in a life that asks us the hard, important questions. Are we capable of nuance? What do we expect from a friend? What is our responsibility to our parents?
Beard further argues that the meaning of those ancient words and symbols has been muddied by time or co-opted by men who scarcely understood their meaning. The original bits of the Ancient Greek temples that were exhibited in London were sneered at by academics as being undeserving of their glowing descriptions. “One or two critics concluded that some of them, at least, must be later Roman replacements, not classical Greek work of the 'finest age' at all. It was only gradually that they became widely acknowledged as the touchstone of ancient art.” John Kennedy’s ‘Ich Bin Ein Berliner’ speech borrowed from a Roman quote that had only a perverse attachment to the subject of human rights or to freedom. And bankers and dictators have been only too happy to grasp onto the rebuilt, militaristic and often fabricated history of Rome. The author offers that we might consider how more modern interpretations color our perceptions. “There is no way that we can now eradicate Mussolini's vision. The fabric of 'classical' Rome is in part a fascist creation. What we can do is look it in the eye and try to understand the politics that lie behind the way we now encounter the remains of the ancient city, and the choices that Mussolini made about what we should see (or not see), and how.”
I wish that some of my history professors had understood that we should view the classics through a variety of different lenses. The easy approach is to treat these works as the pinnacle of human civilization; reality is much more complex.
Beard again, says, about ancient history: “How do we build a picture of it from the vivid, but scattered, pieces of evidence we have? How do we make it make sense? How can we begin to imagine it? How can we not be startled by it?”
This book will challenge readers to re-imagine what history really looks like. If we were to walk into a restaurant in old Pompeii, where would we sit? Would women be welcome? Who would talk to us or take our orders? What would we be served? Beard walks us through many of these questions in novel and intriguing ways.
This book is going to surprise a lot of the people who pick it up and start it. I sat down and literally couldn’t stop reading.
Rather than attempting to explain why classic texts are important and relevant, this book instead takes a more remarkable approach. Author Mary Beard says, “Debate, disagreement, and questioning are what classics has to offer, not certainty, truth, beauty or relevance in the way that people often like to imagine. It's fruitless to pretend that the Greeks and Romans offer a useful guide to living now.”
As a lifelong explorer of the Greek and Roman worlds, the author possesses a deep and obvious expertise on this topic. Could she really be saying that the classics don’t matter? The answer, incredibly, is both yes and no.
Beard challenges many current assumptions about the ancient world. Was the burning of the library at Alexandria the worst disaster in human history? All that knowledge lost, all of the ancient voices and opinions and ancient accounts of everyday events snuffed out. Or was it? Beard reminds us that the sheer volume of material that we retain, compared to even more recent events, remains immense. Cataloguing the material that exists from Greece and Rome could occupy a lifetime.
Beard says, “Classical literature has forced me to think harder, face the uncomfortable, and to reread what I had thought I had understood.” This may be the ultimate value of classical literature, to force us to indulge in a life that asks us the hard, important questions. Are we capable of nuance? What do we expect from a friend? What is our responsibility to our parents?
Beard further argues that the meaning of those ancient words and symbols has been muddied by time or co-opted by men who scarcely understood their meaning. The original bits of the Ancient Greek temples that were exhibited in London were sneered at by academics as being undeserving of their glowing descriptions. “One or two critics concluded that some of them, at least, must be later Roman replacements, not classical Greek work of the 'finest age' at all. It was only gradually that they became widely acknowledged as the touchstone of ancient art.” John Kennedy’s ‘Ich Bin Ein Berliner’ speech borrowed from a Roman quote that had only a perverse attachment to the subject of human rights or to freedom. And bankers and dictators have been only too happy to grasp onto the rebuilt, militaristic and often fabricated history of Rome. The author offers that we might consider how more modern interpretations color our perceptions. “There is no way that we can now eradicate Mussolini's vision. The fabric of 'classical' Rome is in part a fascist creation. What we can do is look it in the eye and try to understand the politics that lie behind the way we now encounter the remains of the ancient city, and the choices that Mussolini made about what we should see (or not see), and how.”
I wish that some of my history professors had understood that we should view the classics through a variety of different lenses. The easy approach is to treat these works as the pinnacle of human civilization; reality is much more complex.
Beard again, says, about ancient history: “How do we build a picture of it from the vivid, but scattered, pieces of evidence we have? How do we make it make sense? How can we begin to imagine it? How can we not be startled by it?”
This book will challenge readers to re-imagine what history really looks like. If we were to walk into a restaurant in old Pompeii, where would we sit? Would women be welcome? Who would talk to us or take our orders? What would we be served? Beard walks us through many of these questions in novel and intriguing ways.
July 7, 2026
The first 90 pages are really good, and then Beard decides that for the last half of the book she must delve into all the ways the classics have been misinterpreted and misused. It is like a Yelp review that begins, "I really liked this restaurant's decor and the service was great, but . . ."
April 25, 2026
this is my first mary beard book! which feels weird because i’ve loved classics since i was a kid and even attended university to study it where im sure she was cited and placed in the recommended reading countless times. however im happy that i found her in my own time, completely by chance, as a result of waterstones advertisement and my love of the colour yellow (the uk version of the book is a bright yellow in case it’s different for you).
its very interesting this book, because it’s written like a conversation. albeit at times clunky, but that’s mostly because i am not fluent in some areas of the discussion and found it difficult to fully take in - but this simply means that i will have to reread the book in a few months perhaps, which is a thrilling task. i honestly think this might be the best book of mary’s to start with - it is a broad analysis of classics, its ever changing state and the various degrees of reception. the talk of class, the root word of classics and how greek and latin have always been a thing of exclusivity was really eye opening to me as someone who studied latin and hated it. perhaps i should pick it back up again, for those faced exclusion because of their lack of knowing it.
thanks mary, and thank you mr british museum employee who showed her the bread. and thank you rick riordan, my own introduction to classical studies.
i’m going to post a substack about this book in some coming days. my substack is (strangely) called debeanobeanbro. pls feel free to read about my (limited in comparison to mary beard as i’m only 22 at the time of reading) experience in classics!
its very interesting this book, because it’s written like a conversation. albeit at times clunky, but that’s mostly because i am not fluent in some areas of the discussion and found it difficult to fully take in - but this simply means that i will have to reread the book in a few months perhaps, which is a thrilling task. i honestly think this might be the best book of mary’s to start with - it is a broad analysis of classics, its ever changing state and the various degrees of reception. the talk of class, the root word of classics and how greek and latin have always been a thing of exclusivity was really eye opening to me as someone who studied latin and hated it. perhaps i should pick it back up again, for those faced exclusion because of their lack of knowing it.
thanks mary, and thank you mr british museum employee who showed her the bread. and thank you rick riordan, my own introduction to classical studies.
i’m going to post a substack about this book in some coming days. my substack is (strangely) called debeanobeanbro. pls feel free to read about my (limited in comparison to mary beard as i’m only 22 at the time of reading) experience in classics!
Read
July 31, 2026jo ja sabia que Mary Beard era una senyora brillant, però he de dir amb un punt de vergonya que encara no havia tingut temps de llegir-la (el totxo d'SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome vigila el menjador del pis impacient, per si un dia el sorprenem i qualcú, per fi, es digna a obrir-lo); en aquest volum m'ha sorprés gratament. al final, sempre m'havia quedat amb la imatge entranyable de la seua melena blanca passejant per Pompeia, però poc sospitava que estigués TAN BASADA: és una antifa declarada amb sensibilitat per les lluites de l'esquerra present (gènere, anticolonialisme), i en aquest llibre ho demostra àmpliament. durant el llibre, Beard toca moltes temàtiques diferents relatives a les clàssiques: d'on neix la seua passió per l'antiguitat, la seua experiència aprenent-les i ensenyant-les, la seua recepció present, els greugues històrics que s'hi relacionen, l'elitisme relacionat amb aquestes matèries… si compartesc una cosa amb ella (i m'ha ajudat a posar-hi les paraules), és que mai m'he enlluernat ni m'ha atret especialment el que se suposava que m'havia d'emocionar dels clàssics: els grans monuments, les batalles, les gestes, les grans obres. jo sempre m'he fet la pregunta que a ella l'acompanya des dels seus inicis com a classicista: "com devia ser, ser-hi?"
– pel que fa a l'edició, vull comentar que la traducció conté diversos errors relacionats amb el fet de traduir literalment de l'anglès al català sense llegir el llatí (cites de textos, etc) i amb no revisar com es tradueixen els noms clàssics a la nostra llengua (e.g. Ilion sense accent). no queda gaire bé, precisament, en aquest volum
– pel que fa a l'edició, vull comentar que la traducció conté diversos errors relacionats amb el fet de traduir literalment de l'anglès al català sense llegir el llatí (cites de textos, etc) i amb no revisar com es tradueixen els noms clàssics a la nostra llengua (e.g. Ilion sense accent). no queda gaire bé, precisament, en aquest volum
July 2, 2026
If, as Mary Beard advises, we take the blind reverence out of our dealings with the classics, why should we still care about them? I really enjoyed (and fiercely agreed with) her answers to that question. She's probably preaching to the choir here, since I doubt that many people who don't already care about classics will pick this book up, but it would probably be helpful to teachers and academics who are struggling to retain the next generation's interest in "old" things. Classics are cool!
April 16, 2026
ik lees echt nooit nonfictie dus dit ging me niet zo makkelijk af maar ik ben wel ontzettend fan van mary beard en de klassieken. iedere dag heb ik spijt dat ik geen latijn of grieks heb gehad, het blijft mijn meisjesdroom om classicus te worden. maar misschien kan dat nog???!! wie weet..
May 4, 2026
I love Mary Beard and I love reading about the classics, and she had some good points but I felt the book was a letdown. It was hard to get through and I didn't really get the reason for the book, I wasn't sure what she was trying to get across. I had such high hopes but was disappointed.
July 3, 2026
Mary Beard is a well known figure in the UK media, with TV programmes and regular newspaper columns. She was professor of Classics at Cambridge University amongst a host of other academic posts, and is a best selling author. It is wonderful therefore to hear in this book what it was that first drew her to this lifelong fascination with classical history. As a young girl she was taken to London for the day, and among the various treats was a visit to the British Museum, where the displays were not as children friendly as they are today. Struggling to be lifted to see a piece of baked bread from Ancient Egypt, a passing man asked what they were trying to look at. He took a bunch of keys from his pocket, opened the glass case and took out the bread to hold right in front of her. She goes on to say:
A few pages later we are given our first of many lessons in Latin or Greek. In ancient Greek the experience with the piece of bread would be called thauma, a wonder or a wonderment. But the word has more meanings. ’At its simplest, it could describe the feeling of being amazed, as well as referring to the object that caused the amazement.’
‘Talking Classics’ especially resonated for me, because many years ago I studied Ancient History at university. On all sides the progress of my study, in particular the wish to take things further, were stymied by the fact I had never studied Latin or Greek. Beard talks on this at length in this book, reminding us that such linguistic ability used to be essential for anyone wishing to pass through Oxford or Cambridge. It helped to foster an elitism which probably wasn’t necessary. Beard is honest when she uses the word pomposity. This discussion evolves into one about what the benefits of studying Classics are in the twenty-first century. When the ‘man from the administration’ at Oxford asked the question and talked about transferrable skills, he was told by one of the members of the Classics faculty “It teaches you to read difficult things.” It teaches you to grapple with ideas you don’t understand, from an alien world you have never visited.
One of my personal fascinations with Classical history was how some parts have survived for us today, while others have been lost. This is most obvious in written texts, where we know about certain books or plays, but a copy never made it through the mediaeval scriptoriums into modern times. My own fascination were scenes from Homer’s epics of which we no longer have the text but we do have vast numbers of Greek pots, vases, and amphora which show the scene. We have so much, but we are missing lots as well.
The survival of so many classical images can also be wholly down to later copies. Beard quotes the naked statue of Aphrodite by the Greek sculptor Praxiteles. Made it the town of Knidos on the coast of modern Turkey, it became renowned in the ancient world and was copied countless time by the Romans. The original did not survive, but many Roman copies did. It seems that the original caused quite a stir, since up until that point all life-sized statues had been of men or male gods. Aphrodite was the first naked woman. The statue drew visitors from all around the Mediterranean and was seen as one of the most radical and unsettling pieces, even though there had been many two-dimensional representations of naked women on pottery for centuries. This is part of what Beard calls ‘the shock of the old’. One of the other shocks was that most sculpture was brightly painted and not the aesthetic of bare marble that we see today.
Beard also spends some time discussing the way classics have been used by subsequent generations. Not just as a way to weed of the best of the scholars, but also for propaganda. There is a picture of Mussolini and Hitler being shown the Emperor Augustus’ Alter of Peace in 1938, exploiting the symbols of ancient Rome. I learned that the ruined circular Temple of Vesta in the Roman Forum mostly dates back to the 1930s, when it was reassembled and held up by lots of ’30s brickwork at the back. We also have the story of John F. Kennedy’s speech in Berlin saying ‘Ich bin ein Berliner’ (I am a Berliner) which echoed the classical phrase ‘civis Romanus sum’ (I am a Roman citizen). Unfortunately the true origin of the quote comes from Cicero who tells of a Roman citizen saying this as he is crucified, a punishment the laws of the time forbade for a citizen. It is always good to know the context of the quote you are using.
So many things in the ancient world seem foreign to us, but others feel amazingly contemporary. In Homer:
I enjoyed this book for all its classical stories and their links to the modern day. There are plenty of black and white photographs too, to help bring the narrative to life.
Never underestimate how powerful the simple act of unlocking a museum case can be. This is a moment whose excitement I can still recapture more than sixty years on: eyeball to eyeball for the first time with such an ordinary fragment of everyday life made by, and for, people who were unimaginably distant from me. I have never forgotten that feeling of being so perilously close to the lost world of the past…
A few pages later we are given our first of many lessons in Latin or Greek. In ancient Greek the experience with the piece of bread would be called thauma, a wonder or a wonderment. But the word has more meanings. ’At its simplest, it could describe the feeling of being amazed, as well as referring to the object that caused the amazement.’
But ‘thauma’ does not stop there. Among its range of ancient meanings was another more surprising and more cerebral one. For ‘thauma’ also signalled intellectual puzzles and problems which engaged the brain, and made you wonder (here English shares some of this double sense with Greek) about what exactly the object of amazement was, what it meant and how to explain it.
‘Talking Classics’ especially resonated for me, because many years ago I studied Ancient History at university. On all sides the progress of my study, in particular the wish to take things further, were stymied by the fact I had never studied Latin or Greek. Beard talks on this at length in this book, reminding us that such linguistic ability used to be essential for anyone wishing to pass through Oxford or Cambridge. It helped to foster an elitism which probably wasn’t necessary. Beard is honest when she uses the word pomposity. This discussion evolves into one about what the benefits of studying Classics are in the twenty-first century. When the ‘man from the administration’ at Oxford asked the question and talked about transferrable skills, he was told by one of the members of the Classics faculty “It teaches you to read difficult things.” It teaches you to grapple with ideas you don’t understand, from an alien world you have never visited.
One of my personal fascinations with Classical history was how some parts have survived for us today, while others have been lost. This is most obvious in written texts, where we know about certain books or plays, but a copy never made it through the mediaeval scriptoriums into modern times. My own fascination were scenes from Homer’s epics of which we no longer have the text but we do have vast numbers of Greek pots, vases, and amphora which show the scene. We have so much, but we are missing lots as well.
The survival of so many classical images can also be wholly down to later copies. Beard quotes the naked statue of Aphrodite by the Greek sculptor Praxiteles. Made it the town of Knidos on the coast of modern Turkey, it became renowned in the ancient world and was copied countless time by the Romans. The original did not survive, but many Roman copies did. It seems that the original caused quite a stir, since up until that point all life-sized statues had been of men or male gods. Aphrodite was the first naked woman. The statue drew visitors from all around the Mediterranean and was seen as one of the most radical and unsettling pieces, even though there had been many two-dimensional representations of naked women on pottery for centuries. This is part of what Beard calls ‘the shock of the old’. One of the other shocks was that most sculpture was brightly painted and not the aesthetic of bare marble that we see today.
Beard also spends some time discussing the way classics have been used by subsequent generations. Not just as a way to weed of the best of the scholars, but also for propaganda. There is a picture of Mussolini and Hitler being shown the Emperor Augustus’ Alter of Peace in 1938, exploiting the symbols of ancient Rome. I learned that the ruined circular Temple of Vesta in the Roman Forum mostly dates back to the 1930s, when it was reassembled and held up by lots of ’30s brickwork at the back. We also have the story of John F. Kennedy’s speech in Berlin saying ‘Ich bin ein Berliner’ (I am a Berliner) which echoed the classical phrase ‘civis Romanus sum’ (I am a Roman citizen). Unfortunately the true origin of the quote comes from Cicero who tells of a Roman citizen saying this as he is crucified, a punishment the laws of the time forbade for a citizen. It is always good to know the context of the quote you are using.
So many things in the ancient world seem foreign to us, but others feel amazingly contemporary. In Homer:
We find military defences destroyed as easily as a child wrecks their own sandcastle on the beach; a grieving warrior likened to a tearful little girl pulling at her mother’s dress, to be picked up; and Odysseus tossing and turning in bed over his dilemmas brilliantly compared to a black pudding (‘a stomach stuffed with fat and blood’) being turned round on a roasting spit. Sandcastles, whining toddlers, and black pudding almost 3,000 years ago.
I enjoyed this book for all its classical stories and their links to the modern day. There are plenty of black and white photographs too, to help bring the narrative to life.
April 22, 2026
Not sure how I've gone this long without reading Mary Beard yet, but after this book, I'll definitely pick up a few more, since I love the writing style and voice she has in Talking Classics and this entire book just spoke to me, reminding me of why I was so insistent on maintaining my love for the ancient mediterreanean world. There's a lot of other books out there on why people should study the Classics, and Beard succinctly shuts down a lot of the common reasonings, and her book doesn't carry the same level of pretension other such books do — the ancients should be read not because we want to put them on a pedestral or admire them or because they represent some level of logic and beauty, but because connecting with a world that existed millennia ago prompts new manners of thinking and helps us parse through the complexity of existence. One of my favourite parts of this book was all the coverage of Classical reception — what does it mean to co-opt these stories and historical figures, and how do we interpret them in our own modern day context? I'm convinced by Beard's book, but also I already love and studied Classics, so I'm not sure if I'm the audience that needs to be persuaded. That said, her discussions on her own experience in feeling out of place in academia really resonate, and she captures the difficulty in consolidating what really falls under the Classics umbrella really well.
Thank you to UChicago Press and NetGalley for the ARC.
Thank you to UChicago Press and NetGalley for the ARC.
March 24, 2026
Talking Classics by Mary Beard
Arguably the most recognizable classical scholar today, Mary Beard’s work in “Talking Classics” is fundamentally different from the other books she's written. “Talking Classics” proves to be a deeply personal work, exploring not only what Greek and Roman influence has on the rest of the world but also how these works have uniquely impacted her. Much of the book is dedicated to personal anecdotes mixed in with information from the classical world, with the first half focusing more on the author and the second half on how and why we engage with the classics today. Of the two halves, I found the second half more engaging, with Chapter 3 being my favorite. Discussions on the so-called “Greek Miracle” and its influence on American democracy led to the adoption of Greek and especially Roman symbols into far-right extremism, and ended with the gatekeeping of classics. Beard is able to blend her personal experiences with deep knowledge of the field, resulting in the strongest chapter of the four and a consistently strong narrative throughout.
I found Chapter 4 similarly strong with its discussion of avoiding hero worship over the discipline while making her case why classics deserve to be studied today. Beard manages to avoid common shortfalls that are often associated with defending the humanities and makes a compelling case without overstating her case. The only major weakness of the book is its length. The advanced copy was under 200 pages, many of which were taken up by pictures. Still, if you have both an interest in the subject matter and have enjoyed Beard’s books in the past, this is an easy recommendation. 4/5
Arguably the most recognizable classical scholar today, Mary Beard’s work in “Talking Classics” is fundamentally different from the other books she's written. “Talking Classics” proves to be a deeply personal work, exploring not only what Greek and Roman influence has on the rest of the world but also how these works have uniquely impacted her. Much of the book is dedicated to personal anecdotes mixed in with information from the classical world, with the first half focusing more on the author and the second half on how and why we engage with the classics today. Of the two halves, I found the second half more engaging, with Chapter 3 being my favorite. Discussions on the so-called “Greek Miracle” and its influence on American democracy led to the adoption of Greek and especially Roman symbols into far-right extremism, and ended with the gatekeeping of classics. Beard is able to blend her personal experiences with deep knowledge of the field, resulting in the strongest chapter of the four and a consistently strong narrative throughout.
I found Chapter 4 similarly strong with its discussion of avoiding hero worship over the discipline while making her case why classics deserve to be studied today. Beard manages to avoid common shortfalls that are often associated with defending the humanities and makes a compelling case without overstating her case. The only major weakness of the book is its length. The advanced copy was under 200 pages, many of which were taken up by pictures. Still, if you have both an interest in the subject matter and have enjoyed Beard’s books in the past, this is an easy recommendation. 4/5
May 27, 2026
4.25/5
Thank you to Profile Books for sending me a copy of this ahead of its release.
In Talking Classics, the legendary Mary Beard reflects on her career and why the life, art and literature of ancient Greece and Rome has had and continues to have such a hold on us. It’s a very philisophical read designed to get you thinking rather than particularly answer any questions, which is synonymous with classics! As Beard says here, no one is an authority and classics don’t ‘belong’ to anyone despite what wealthy, white Europeans would have had you think - ‘Whoever ‘we’ are, wherever ‘we’ come from, we are all equally foreign to Ancient Greece and Rome.’
Since getting further into classics I’ve noticed the undercurrent of elitism and gatekeeping, even today here on booksta and it’s something I’ve struggled with, so this book found me at the right time. Beard carefully deconstructs it all and analyses the historical glorification and misuse of classics, why it shouldn’t be revered and why we should be extending the boundary outside the ‘so called heartlands of greece and italy into western asia and africa and beyond’.
An excellent read that got me thinking differently about antiquity and I’ll leave you with a very relevant quote:
‘Social media is bedevilled by those who think that there is a simple right answer to everything (theirs), and that debate is a zero-sum game (either you win, or I do).’
My space will never be exclusionary or elitist, we all have different backgrounds and it doesn’t matter if you’re coming to something later in life. Your thoughts and ideas are valid!
‘𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒶 𝓋𝒾𝓇𝓊𝓂𝓆𝓊𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜: welcome in.’
Thank you to Profile Books for sending me a copy of this ahead of its release.
In Talking Classics, the legendary Mary Beard reflects on her career and why the life, art and literature of ancient Greece and Rome has had and continues to have such a hold on us. It’s a very philisophical read designed to get you thinking rather than particularly answer any questions, which is synonymous with classics! As Beard says here, no one is an authority and classics don’t ‘belong’ to anyone despite what wealthy, white Europeans would have had you think - ‘Whoever ‘we’ are, wherever ‘we’ come from, we are all equally foreign to Ancient Greece and Rome.’
Since getting further into classics I’ve noticed the undercurrent of elitism and gatekeeping, even today here on booksta and it’s something I’ve struggled with, so this book found me at the right time. Beard carefully deconstructs it all and analyses the historical glorification and misuse of classics, why it shouldn’t be revered and why we should be extending the boundary outside the ‘so called heartlands of greece and italy into western asia and africa and beyond’.
An excellent read that got me thinking differently about antiquity and I’ll leave you with a very relevant quote:
‘Social media is bedevilled by those who think that there is a simple right answer to everything (theirs), and that debate is a zero-sum game (either you win, or I do).’
My space will never be exclusionary or elitist, we all have different backgrounds and it doesn’t matter if you’re coming to something later in life. Your thoughts and ideas are valid!
‘𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒶 𝓋𝒾𝓇𝓊𝓂𝓆𝓊𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓃𝑜: welcome in.’
May 10, 2026
3.5 rounded up. Nothing earthshattering, at least if you are a reader of (ancient) history, but Beard is never a waste of time. I was delighted to learn that there used to be mice living inside the Athena Parthenon statue.
August 23, 2026
"One big questions drives this book. What is the point of the ancient classics? To put it another way, why should we bother about what people did 2,000 years ago or more: what they made, wrote and thought? What can it all mean to us now? I want to capture what is still so exciting, rewarding and sometimes unsettling about the classical world — or at least what has excited, rewarded and unsettled me. The underlying message is that you get much more out of classics if you revere it less. Amazement, surprise, pleasure, puzzlement, even revulsion, yes. Reverence and gratitude, no."
Ancient Rome and Greece are not my usual territory. Books on antiquity typically shut my brain off, so I need a bit of a hook to keep me engaged.
In Talking Classics, Mary Beard doesn't try to sell you on the classics being some pure, noble thing you're supposed to worship.
That's honestly the best part of the book.
Beard admits studying Greek and Latin classics are messy in a way, having two consequences (among many others):
a) it gatekeeps both the subject (as well as the reading audience) into accepting certain people as "in" and everyone else as "not-in"
b) it allows awful people to attempt to hijack ancient history conversation to back up their own political chicanery (I am looking at you, Neo-Roman-American-types)
It's short, it's personal, it jumps around between memoir and actual argument, and she hooks you with these random little details — like a fossilized piece of bread in a museum, or graffiti in an ancient bathroom — instead of drowning you in dates and dead languages. You don't need to know anything going in.
Will this open up a new world of reading for me? Probably not. To be able to think frankly about the topic, you have to study heaps and heaps of it before you dumb it down. This is something that only a scholar like Beard could do.
June 9, 2026
"El mundo clásico, dondequiera que lo encuentres, es maravillosamente familiar y a la vez seductoramente inaccesible, o por lo menos no es del todo lo que parece".
No recuerdo cuándo empecé a interesarme por los clásicos, de alguna forma siempre estuvieron ahí para mí, en la medida en que siempre estuvieron ligados a la humanidad y su historia, ¿Cómo no iban a interesarme? Todo lo que puede explicarme quién fuimos, qué hicimos o hacia adónde fuimos, me interesa. Sin embargo podría preguntarme: ¿Hay verdades universales en los clásicos? ¿Qué tipo de certeza, iluminación divina o revelación encuentro en leerlos? Lo cierto es que ninguna. El mundo antiguo no me revela algo que tal vez no pueda intuir ya, no me da una fórmula exacta que me ayude a resolver un problema. Lo que los clásicos me dan es la satisfacción de conocer y de continuar haciéndome más preguntas. Tener un escenario donde pensar, un contexto que me permite debatir conmigo misma, un espacio de reflexión a través de unas personas que existieron hace ya tanto que ahora son personajes. Es como mirarse a un espejo que en realidad devuelve una imagen distorsionada, puesto que son demasiadas las diferencias históricas, pero el espejo sigue estando ahí y la imagen sigue siendo la misma, aunque con otra forma. El hecho de que nuestra imagen se distorsione me permite mirarnos desde otros ángulos. Además, no hay nada más estimulante que despertar dilemas presentes a través de dilemas pasados. Me gustan los clásicos porque existe una especie de hilo conductor entre ellos y nosotros que nos señala un sentido común y compartido. ¿Qué hubiera hecho yo en la época egipcia? El mundo antiguo es un mundo de oportunidades por pensar y para mí, una fuente de sabiduría de la que extraer, no porque nos revelen nada especial, si no por lo mucho que nos conecta con nuestra insignificancia.
Mary Beard se pregunta estas y muchas otras cosas más, de una forma más académica en la que yo lo he hecho y con muchas más anécdotas interesantes que os animo a descubrir.
"Y cómo puede uno lograr imaginar que es uno de ellos
es algo que no sé;
era todo tan inimaginablemente diferente
y hace de todo demasiado tiempo".
No recuerdo cuándo empecé a interesarme por los clásicos, de alguna forma siempre estuvieron ahí para mí, en la medida en que siempre estuvieron ligados a la humanidad y su historia, ¿Cómo no iban a interesarme? Todo lo que puede explicarme quién fuimos, qué hicimos o hacia adónde fuimos, me interesa. Sin embargo podría preguntarme: ¿Hay verdades universales en los clásicos? ¿Qué tipo de certeza, iluminación divina o revelación encuentro en leerlos? Lo cierto es que ninguna. El mundo antiguo no me revela algo que tal vez no pueda intuir ya, no me da una fórmula exacta que me ayude a resolver un problema. Lo que los clásicos me dan es la satisfacción de conocer y de continuar haciéndome más preguntas. Tener un escenario donde pensar, un contexto que me permite debatir conmigo misma, un espacio de reflexión a través de unas personas que existieron hace ya tanto que ahora son personajes. Es como mirarse a un espejo que en realidad devuelve una imagen distorsionada, puesto que son demasiadas las diferencias históricas, pero el espejo sigue estando ahí y la imagen sigue siendo la misma, aunque con otra forma. El hecho de que nuestra imagen se distorsione me permite mirarnos desde otros ángulos. Además, no hay nada más estimulante que despertar dilemas presentes a través de dilemas pasados. Me gustan los clásicos porque existe una especie de hilo conductor entre ellos y nosotros que nos señala un sentido común y compartido. ¿Qué hubiera hecho yo en la época egipcia? El mundo antiguo es un mundo de oportunidades por pensar y para mí, una fuente de sabiduría de la que extraer, no porque nos revelen nada especial, si no por lo mucho que nos conecta con nuestra insignificancia.
Mary Beard se pregunta estas y muchas otras cosas más, de una forma más académica en la que yo lo he hecho y con muchas más anécdotas interesantes que os animo a descubrir.
"Y cómo puede uno lograr imaginar que es uno de ellos
es algo que no sé;
era todo tan inimaginablemente diferente
y hace de todo demasiado tiempo".
June 16, 2026
I found it hard not to tear up at this book. I brought a copy, thanks to a dear friend letting me know it was out, but I actually ended up listening to the audio book. I like how Mary Beard reads and the book is composed out of a series of lectures. I’d recommend the audio book over the printed version.
The book is a very Mary Beard style victory lap of a life spent on and supporting the classics. It made me feel enormously proud to have come from humble beginnings (my father was a mechanic and mother was a factory worker) to “come up” through the Blairite education push and become a classics teacher myself. I am proud, because like Mary, I did my best to show my students the classics for what they are now and then, and not what some people idealise/d them to be. Classics is not a stuffy subject in the least, but it has been. And now, in the hands of diverse people with diverse ability, studying classics is as lively and exciting as the ancient world itself was.
I almost cried, because I am medically retired from teaching, yet often, all I want to do is get in front of a room of teenagers, open the Odyssey (in translation!) and sing the song of war and of men. Classics has been the great privilege of my life so far and I commend Mary Beard for her work and erudite commentary on the subject. Brava Mary, may there be many more of us.
The book is a very Mary Beard style victory lap of a life spent on and supporting the classics. It made me feel enormously proud to have come from humble beginnings (my father was a mechanic and mother was a factory worker) to “come up” through the Blairite education push and become a classics teacher myself. I am proud, because like Mary, I did my best to show my students the classics for what they are now and then, and not what some people idealise/d them to be. Classics is not a stuffy subject in the least, but it has been. And now, in the hands of diverse people with diverse ability, studying classics is as lively and exciting as the ancient world itself was.
I almost cried, because I am medically retired from teaching, yet often, all I want to do is get in front of a room of teenagers, open the Odyssey (in translation!) and sing the song of war and of men. Classics has been the great privilege of my life so far and I commend Mary Beard for her work and erudite commentary on the subject. Brava Mary, may there be many more of us.
August 30, 2026
Somehow I managed to delete this review, and all I can remember writing is Maria Barbata, optima maxima, because she IS the best. And if anyone can explain why classics matter (and for how they teach us to learn), it's Mary Beard.
Read
July 21, 2026arma virumque cano - panem dare
August 2, 2026
Quick read for a weekend. I liked her points on applying modern morality on ancient history but the text seemed a bit disjointed (a consistent complaint of mine for this author).
Read
June 29, 2026Wonderful set of essays that both takes down the elitest, snobby categorization of "the classics" and also helps the reader see them as a special vehicle with which to ask questions and challenge our own views of the world. Her approach is challenging and welcoming, exactly the kind of teacher I aspire to be.
May 22, 2026
This is a memoir of sorts by perhaps the sharpest classics scholar - Mary Beard. It is well written and informative, esp re the current state of classics in academia (and politics). This is not as memorable as her “SPQR” (but what is?). It is still outstanding and well worth reading.
May 22, 2026
She’s a genius. Never misses.
August 9, 2026
Motivador, sencillo e inteligente.
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