Virgo to Virago: Medea in the Silver Age by Kirsty Corrigan, which focuses on Medea's reception in Silver Age Latin poetry, is an elaboration of the author's doctoral thesis on female figures in Silver Age literature. As noted in the introduction, what prompted the author to select this female figure from the other female characters of her thesis was her personal interest for Medea, the rich modern scholarship on her persona, and the fluidity and particular traits of the period examined. As is justly supported, the character's multiplicity and popularity leave space for further interpretation of its various aspects and also for new discussion of older interpretive questions regarding this persona.In her brief survey of the Silver Age (beginning around 14 CE and lasting until the mid-second century), Corrigan refutes the old and no longer supported view that this is a period of decline in literature compared to that of previous times (e.g., the so-called Golden Age, approximately 80 BCE to 14 CE). Corrigan focuses on the Silver Age because this period, with its emphasis on rhetoric and gruesome motifs, was fascinated by Medea and, consequently, provided long and important literary treatments of her story. Ovid's inclusion in this period is briefly and convincingly justified.Corrigan chooses to study each poet separately and in chronological order. First, Ovid's narration in the seventh book of the Metamorphoses is discussed, along with the twelfth and sixth epistles of the Heroides, and other, shorter Ovidian references to Medea. The priority given to the interpretation in the Metamorphoses is reasonably justified. The four-hundred-verse narrative provides a short but complete account of the myth, while the epistles in Heroides 12 and 6 refer only to the end of the myth. They are intended for readers who are already aware of Medea's story.Corrigan's analysis and interpretive comments on the various intertexts providing models for the Ovidian Medea are extremely detailed. Corrigan correctly points out Ovid's elaboration of the Vergilian material on Dido, the influence of other genres, and the modification of values to fit the Roman version of a heroine who originated in Greek myth. She also carefully examines where the two protagonists, Jason and Medea, prevail in the Ovidian narration and adequately explores Ovid's intelligent technique of contaminatio (a word used by modern scholars to describe an ancient author's practice of incorporating material from another source into his work). For example, when Ovid briefly describes the notorious infanticide, he uses this description in order to set the stage for another infanticide in the story of Tereus, Procne, and Philomela. Thus, Ovid gives other stories a complementary function within his narrative, surprising his audience by limiting his description of Medea's most notorious acts.Corrigan rightly comments on Ovid's technique in demonstrating the gradual transformation of the heroine from a young, innocent girl into a witch by choosing specific episodes that present only slight changes at every stage. As a result, the readers are surprised, if not actually shocked, when they realize the distance separating Medea's initial condition from her final one.In analyzing Ovid's Heroides 12 and 6, Corrigan maintains the same interpretive model. She reproduces widely accepted theses regarding the collection and ends by examining the heroine's role in the fictitious letter she supposedly wrote. Here Medea refers to the moments before she is liberated from her elegiac bonds of idleness, which allows her to unfold her tragic actions and commit the infanticide. Corrigan understands that everything relevant to infanticide must respect the reservations imposed by epistolarity and the elegiac genre. She recognizes intertextual debts to the Aeneid and appreciates the metapoetic importance of the two letters examined. Of course, she could have shed more light on the intratextual relations between the two epistles (12 and 6). In other words, the supposed dialogue between Jason's two “wives,” Medea and Hypsipyle, as well as several motifs in Medea's epistle that also appear in other letters (for example, the girl's naïveté, the reactions of a “wife” at the sight of her rival), could have been dealt with more effectively.Corrigan's exhaustive study of the shorter references to Medea found in other Ovidian poems is particularly useful. Corrigan points out the interesting and stimulating use of paradigm within didactic poetry, and she uncovers Ovid's hyperbole (81), thus revealing that his exempla (models) would be quite improper if used in an actual teaching environment. She could have gone further to note that these paradigms are quite appropriate to Ovid's literary game. As is obvious from the Ars Amatoria, Ovid's goal is exactly what a real teacher wants to avoid; that is, to undermine his own teaching. Of course, a didactic poet is not, but pretends to be, a teacher. Ovid's didactic nature is a persona used in his art even when he also has moral goals to serve. Far from giving real lessons to his readers, Ovid is happy to impersonate a teacher as part of his poetic technique.Corrigan's chapter on Ovid closes with a synopsis of her conclusions, in which she notes Medea's central dominating position in contrast to Jason, the male protagonist of her story. She also investigates the poet's sympathy toward his heroine. Corrigan is probably right that Medea's character in the Heroides is given a depth that seems lacking in the Metamorphoses. I would add that if her comment is valid, this is due not only to the Heroides' psychological point of view but mainly to the collection's metapoetic dimensions.The second chapter of Corrigan's work starts with basic biographical information about Seneca and his Medea. The author speaks about the Senecan protagonist's debts to the Heroides' Medea, as Seneca's tragedy seems to be a sequel to the twelfth epistle. Corrigan points out the similarities between the Heroidian and Senecan Medeas, an example of which is the use of long monologue. She states that Seneca departs from the rather sympathetic view of Medea in the Heroides and thus resembles the Medea of the Metamorphoses. This idea appears persuasive, provided that we take into account all the reservations imposed by Ovidian polysemy and the poet's ambiguous and ironic suggestiveness.The chapter on Seneca contains the most thorough analysis. It proceeds almost act by act—if not line by line—and it practically constitutes a detailed commentary on the text. Throughout her analysis, Corrigan compares Seneca's tragedy with the Ovidian epistle in the Heroides and correctly identifies Seneca's numerous Heroidian ironic references. Additionally, she successfully manages to discuss the conflict between amor and pudor and the particular traits this discussion acquires in Seneca. Corrigan also correctly observes that the “sentimental” Ovidian Medea is transformed by Seneca into a cruel Medea whose only sentiments are hatred and anger.The book's last chapter discusses Medea in Valerius Flaccus' incomplete epic. Corrigan rightly compares Medea to Diana, Nausicaa, and Prosperina, mentioning Homer, among other models. Corrigan insists that Valerius Flaccus had a positive and rather sympathetic view of Medea. She also appropriately summarizes previous scholars' statements about ancient views of female psychology such as ancient assumptions about women's feebleness and their natural tendency to fall prey to unreasonable passions. These ancient prejudices, in combination with Medea's quasi-divine powers, dramatically increase the danger she posed to a principally male audience. While Corrigan is right to insist on Valerius' debt to the Heroidian Medea, she could also have referred to other protagonists in the Heroides that present similar traits to Valerius' enamored Medea. She also points out similarities to Horace's Odes 1.37, although significant coincidences, such as furor, monstrum, and regina, could have been discussed in greater detail.While Corrigan points out that Valerius Flaccus reconciles Medea's two aspects by portraying her gradual maturation from a girl to a woman and a witch, she also notes that all the negative elements of Medea's character are imposed by life's injustices. Valerius, according to Corrigan, practically exculpates Medea because she is not held accountable for her choices. On the other hand, Medea's sense of pudor (shame) and pietas (loyalty) is an important part of her Romanization, revealing her character's debt to Vergilian Dido. Valerius goes further and presents Medea almost as a good and respectable Roman girl, and tries to provide excuses when she finally proves to be the witch that the ancient tradition requires.Corrigan's conclusion that the only stable feature in Medea's Silver Age persona is the lack of stability and unity in her image cannot be easily denied. Her statement makes sense given the variety of genres in which Medea appears during this period. Corrigan then summarizes the various roles given to Medea in the examined texts, correctly concluding that the main connective element of those roles is the heroine's self-consciousness. Medea's own awareness of all the controversies in her story gives these works a tragic sense of inevitability. The reader never forgets Medea's identity and all of her actions, even the ones that are not explicitly mentioned. The reader's interest rests on the way an ancient poet treats Medea's persona and how that persona develops until she reaches her already determined end. During this process, intertextual allusions are abundant, demands on the reader's capacity and skills increase, and irony mediates between tragedy and parody.Apart from the insights mentioned, the book's major contribution is the innovative definition of Medea from both a chronological and generic point of view. Additionally, Corrigan's whole discussion is very clear, thanks to the division of the texts under discussion into three separate parts. In other words, the examination of each author and work separately, which may appear simple at first, proves to be a benefit to readers, who can now follow every part of the analysis even if they are not particularly familiar with the works being examined. Because basic information is included, the book is also useful for non-classicists. The book keeps a linear structure, which makes it easier for readers of different levels to follow every step of the interpretive approach. The book's tripartite structure allows for a different degree of understanding each time. Because of the popularity of this literary persona, the bibliography on Medea is almost interminable and new titles are added regularly. Corrigan's bibliographical research is careful, and her own bibliography is certainly adequate.In conclusion, Corrigan's book is a very useful contribution to the study of Medea and the receptions of her persona in the Silver Age. Furthermore, the large number of new ideas for further study that the book may evoke is among the author's principal contributions. Thanks to her detailed analysis, she paves the way for further reading and reopens the discussion of older questions while also posing new ones, rather than attempting to come to a definitive judgment regarding Medea's persona.