Department Interviews
Interview with Victoria Wohl
Professor Victoria Wohl has had a busy year! In August 2025, her 2023 Sather Lectures were published with the University of California Press as The Poetry of Being and the Prose of the World in Early Greek Philosophy. In November, she was inducted as a Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada. Her research was also recognized with a Dean’s Research Excellence Award from the UofT. We talk to her about her research, her recent conference on water, and the role of Classics in the world today.
Tell me about your latest book project.
My most recent work is a literary reading of the fragments of five Presocratic philosophers: Parmenides, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Democritus, and Anaxagoras. Really, it’s a very simple gambit, which is to think about the ways that their stylistic choices support or complicate the philosophical content. There is quite a lot of serious philosophical work on these authors, but not a lot on the stylistic or literary side. Part of my initial goal was just to expand the corpus of the texts we literary scholars have available, because they really are amazing pieces of literature! Heraclitus, for example, is as rich in metaphor and as symbolically dense as poets like Aeschylus and Pindar. In general, I’m thinking about what their specific tropes and stylistic quirks do to advance the philosophy or the ways they pull against it.
How do you imagine these poets and philosophers acting in their societies? What do you think they look like as people?
It is difficult because of our limited knowledge of the historical context, but sometimes you can tell from reading the works themselves. Empedocles, for instance, is clearly reciting his poetry publicly. The persona he presents is very much “Here I am—I’m a god,” as everyone comes to him for cures and prophecies. All of this plays into the larger question of what it means to be a philosopher at this moment in time. Some people prefer to call Empedocles a type of shaman: is he a healer, a poet, a philosopher? I think to a certain extent, these questions are thematized in their own texts, although in different terms from our own – these thinkers didn’t label themselves “philosophers.”
It strikes me that you have taken what people in our field might consider a somewhat esoteric topic, this highly poetic philosophy, and found a way to have conversations with other disciplines and the wider public. Could you tell me more about your work on elementality and the Elemental Readings conference series? How did that come about?
That was a project I didn’t think I was going to write on myself because a book on the elements in Greek philosophy would be so huge. But it was designed to connect a lot of people from different discourses. The project came about because Alex Purves at UCLA wanted to do a conference on air and I was working on the Presocratics, so we started talking about how we could coordinate something larger. The series started with an air conference in Los Angeles and then the water conference was here in Toronto. The idea was that each institution would have its own organizers and focus. For the water conference in Toronto, I was working with James Cahill, a colleague in Cinema Studies. The latest event in December was a little follow-up to last year’s Water conference: we invited artists, indigenous leaders, and a scholar of landscape architecture, among others, to talk about their work with water.
What are the plans for the earth and fire conference?
Earth will be at Cornell in April. The hope is that we will hold the fire conference somewhere with a volcano! Java, Hawaii, or maybe Vesuvius or Etna.
How was the experience at the Royal Society of Canada? What was the event like?
It was really fun! The experience was also humbling. Over 100 fellows were appointed this year, 25 of whom were from Arts and Humanities. When they held the induction ceremony, they introduced the scientists like “So-and-so invented an artificial lung that saved thousands of lives,”—big and life-changing things. But kudos to the Royal Society and Canada for maintaining a central role for Humanities. Everyone I talked with did fascinating work. In general, people were also quite interested in what we do as Classicists. There was a doctor at my table working on Alzheimer’s and memory research and we ended up having a conversation about ancient thoughts on psychology and whether it was comparable to how we think about cognition today. I’m very honoured to be inducted.
What do you think the role of Classics is in modern society? Why do you think they still reserve honors for work like ours?
Humanities can be a hard sell. Sitting on funding committees, I can see why it can be difficult when one person is proposing new research on splitting the atom versus a person giving a new reading of a poem. But among other things, Classicists are custodians of the ancient texts and languages, keeping them alive by showing their relevance to modern readers. I feel very fortunate to be teaching at a time when our undergraduate language courses are thriving. We have more Latin majors than we’ve had before—classes are packed!
What advice would you have for someone interested in Classics who is maybe looking to go further, whether they are an undergraduate student or have a personal interest?
Learn the ancient languages! (laughs) No really, read ancient literature in whatever form you can—translations are great too. Go down all the rabbit holes, follow all the paths. If you love the literature, learn the languages. If you love the history, pursue that. If you want insight into daily life, go on a dig. There are so many different paths in Classics, and no single one is right. I feel like it’s the people who zig-zag who will find the most interesting things. So, I guess my advice is to think broadly and boldly.
Interview with Seth Bernard and Sarah Murray
Professors Bernard and Murray are frequent collaborators whose research tackles large-scale topics of economic change, social complexity, and cultural exchange. In 2024, they published a co-edited volume entitled Methods and Morality: Assessing Modern Approaches to the Greco-Roman Economy, and they are currently producing the co-edited Oxford Handbook of the Iron Age Mediterranean. We talk to them today about the promise and perils of academic collaboration.
I’d love to know how you first decided to collaborate together.
Sarah: [To Seth] You can correct me if my memory is defective, but my recollection is that it was quite organic. It was after Dan-el Padilla Peralta’s talk, in the fall of 2019. We were at dinner, and we were reflecting on our experience as students. At Stanford, some of the most influential scholars of the economy had trained us to think a certain way. Dan-el’s talk made us think about what the future of that field might look like. How some of the traditions and ways of thinking about the economy were perhaps due for a rethink. We thought we should do a conference on this topic. And that’s how it all started.
Seth: That’s where the Models and Morality project came from. That’s a narrow response; there’s also a broader response, which is that both of us have more experience working in collaborative settings. We also have overlapping interests. At the time, I was working on the Iron Age and Sarah was coming from the Bronze Age. I’ve always enjoyed reading Sarah’s work. The background of collaboration, and a Venn diagram of interests, suggested that that could be a productive [avenue].
What do you think makes a good collaboration?
Sarah: To follow up on what Seth said, we say lots of things in conversation with colleagues, at conferences, lots of ideas are bandied about and then come to nothing. One of the reasons that I really like collaborating with Seth and that this didn’t dissipate into the ether was that I think we’re both very proactive and like to get things done. Great collaborations are some of the most enriching and satisfying parts of an academic career. But bad collaborations can be equally extremely unpleasant. So, I always recognized in Seth that, not only did we have shared interests, but also that it wouldn’t be the case that I’d end up doing 90% of the work, and Seth 10%, or vice versa. That’s really important: to trust your collaborator.
Seth: In both our cases, working with archaeological projects has fostered an idea of what teamwork looks like. I think at this point I have co-authored with or edited maybe fifty people’s work and you’re [referring to Sarah] probably somewhere around there, too. Of that group, I would like to go forward with maybe five of them, because you really do recognize who is responsible, not just who’s a good scholar. One thing I really enjoyed about working with Sarah is not just the shared intellectual goals but the fact that she’s very dependable. If something can’t get done this week, she’ll be very upfront about that, but you know it’ll get done in the future. It’s not this sort of “Oh, I can’t wait do this,” and then two years later you’re like: “Ok, can we do this still?” One thing that’s most telling about a collaboration is a second collaboration. You’ll enter into projects with people all the time, and we’ve both done that. But to do it again requires a certain level of success that’s fairly rare.
How does that next step happen? How does a collaboration go from being a more nebulous idea to something more solid?
Sarah: Well, it has to be a good idea, for one thing. It has to be the sort of thing where the next day, you’re still excited about it, where you think “yes, this a good use of my time.” As one grows more experienced, you realize that once you commit to something like this, it’s a serious commitment. Even though you think it’ll be something quick, like a conference, it’s actually a huge amount of time. The biggest test is do you on second, third, fourth reflection, still want to move ahead with it? With the Models and Morality volume, we really thought it was the right time to be asking that kind of question. I felt excited about it, Seth felt excited about it, so we wrote up this one-page abstract, and that becomes a manifesto in a way, and then everything can build from that.
Seth: You need enough knowledge. You don’t need to know everything that the project will eventually include, but you need a sense of the scope of whatever that problem is. You need to know whom you would ask [to contribute]. I think every collaboration is like that. I don’t know your field, but I know you’re working in your field such that you can input helpful material to this [project]. More nuts and bolts: you need to do all the drafting of emails, and inviting, and fundraising.
Seth: You asked if we’re still collaborating?
Yes!
Seth: We are, hopefully, going to finish an Oxford Handbook of the Iron Age Mediterranean, within the next, God knows when. We’re also supposed to be doing the next, what are they called…?
Sarah: Debates [in Archaeology Symposium]!
Seth: On time and temporality. The greatest proof of collaboration is repetition.
Sarah: We haven’t yet decided that we need to run far in the opposite direction. I feel really lucky, in a Classics department, to have landed somewhere where there’s another archaeologist who’s interested in broader questions of archaeological science, archaeological theory and method. Being in physical proximity makes the collaboration much easier. We can touch base with each other about projects. It’s not every Classics department where you find good collaborators like that from an archaeological point of view. So, it’s cool just to have the opportunity to build this more long-term relationship.
Seth: To stress, it’s not that we always agree. I think some of the best stuff has come out of Sarah saying “No, this is wrong,” or “No, I see it a different way.” [It’s useful to have] someone you can bounce ideas off of, where you are comfortable with them saying “That’s dumb, give me another idea.” Sometimes, you send an email, and you don’t get a reply for two weeks, and you think, “Oh they thought that was dumb, that’s why I haven’t gotten a reply” [but I don’t feel that way with Sarah]. So having someone in the department [like Sarah] has been great.
Interview with Francesca Econimo
Dr. Econimo is an Arts and Sciences postdoctoral fellow in Environmental Humanities with a joint appointment at the Jackman Humanities Institute. Her PhD is from the Scuola Normale Superiore in Pisa (2021). Her project at the JHI is entitled ‘Other’ Worlds? Islands as Female Domains in Flavian Epic. We talk to her today about Roman poetry, Environmental Humanities, and the value of interdisciplinary research.
Can you tell me about your current research project, and how that fits into your broader interests?
My current postdoctoral project is about the representation of islands in Flavian epic poetry as liminal spaces that foster gender and political experimentation. I combine intertextual analysis with approaches drawn from gender studies, and I investigate how the islands in Flavian epic poetry function as sites that challenge traditional gender hierarchies. Despite the seemingly marginal nature of these insular spaces, the tensions associated with them may paradoxically reflect political and cultural anxieties in contemporary Rome as the imperial centre. The idea that inspired my current project derives from my interest in Statius’ Thebaid (an epic poem inspired by the myth of the Seven Against Thebes, completed in 92 CE), particularly the episode of Lemnos and Hypsipyle: an island in the Aegean Sea and its former queen [respectively]. I’ve always been fascinated by this long episode. The island of Lemnos is associated with the myth of the Lemnian women, who killed the men of the island, thus subverting both familial bonds and traditional social hierarchies. After the massacre, a new gynocratic regime is established, and new births are secured by the arrival of the Argonauts. This situation, however, doesn’t last long: collapse and disorder undermine the stability of Lemnos once again in a cycle of regeneration and collapse, order and disorder. Since the island of Lemnos offers a really interesting, albeit extreme, example of gender and political experimentation, I wanted to explore more and see if this pattern of tension affected other islands in Flavian epic poetry as well.
How do you see your work in relation to the Environmental Humanities (EH), since you are a JHI (Jackman Humanities Institute) postdoctoral fellow. Where does your interest in EH stem from?
My interest in EH began at the JHI, where I was encouraged to explore the environmental implications of islands as natural spaces in Flavian poetry. Last year, Cristiana Roffi organized a conference on EH and Latin literature and invited me to present a paper. That was the first real opportunity for me to start exploring a case study for my research project, the island of Peuke in Valerius Flaccus’ Argonautica (a Flavian epic poem that tells the story of Jason’s voyage to recover the Golden Fleece) through the lens of EH. My focus was on this small island in the Danube river as a natural environment affected by human intervention in terms of gender, political, and ethnic conflict. This Spring, moreover, I will spend three weeks in Oxford, supported by the Environmental Humanities International Doctoral Cluster. This experience will give me the opportunity to develop a small-scale project on the deforestation of the grove of Nemea in Statius’ Thebaid from an environmental and ecocritical perspective. This is an interesting case study as the landscape of Nemea first suffers from a drought caused by the god Bacchus to prevent the Argive soldiers from marching towards Thebes. Afterwards, the forest itself is devastated and almost erased as the Argive troops cut down all the trees to make a pyre for Opheltes (the son of Lycurgus, king of Nemea), who is killed by a snake. Drought, deforestation, and the near destruction of the Nemean environment bear witness to the violence of human and divine intervention and the effects of warfare on nature.
What drew you to the JHI or what drew you to Toronto to develop this project? And what has your experience been like?
My position can be considered hybrid, because I have a fellowship in Classics from Arts and Science, and at the same time, a fellowship in EH from the JHI. It’s a great privilege. My experience at the JHI has been extremely stimulating and truly interdisciplinary. It has encouraged me to engage with junior and senior fellows from across the Humanities. All the fellows gather on Thursdays for a weekly lunch and seminar followed by a discussion. I also presented my current research through the lens of the Institute’s themes. Last year’s theme was Underground and Underworld. This year it is Dystopia and Trust. For this year’s theme, I focused on the episode of Lemnos and Hypsipyle as a dystopian scenario of intrafamilial discord in which narrative trust is also questioned. The fact that the dark and disturbing story of the island, particularly the massacre and its political aftermath, is narrated by Hypsipyle from her subjective perspective invites us to reflect on her reliability as a narrator. I tried to combine those perspectives (how dystopian events shape the narrative pact between internal narrators, narratees, and readers) to meet the goals of this year’s theme.
You've already alluded to some projects that you have going on in the future. But can you tell me a bit more about that?
One project I’m working on now is organizing a workshop on islands as “Other” spaces in Latin poetry as part of my postdoctoral work. The idea is to bring together senior and junior scholars from Europe, America, and of course, Toronto, and to explore new perspectives on islands as a distinct spatial category, from Vergil to Claudian. This would be a nice complement to my own research, which is focused on Latin Silver Age epic poetry in particular. Another long-term plan is to produce a commentary on Books 4–6 of Statius’ Thebaid. My work on the figure of Hypsipyle, the island of Lemnos, and the forest of Nemea will provide preliminary material for this commentary project, which I would like to pursue more systematically after completing my current postdoctoral work here in Toronto.
Interview with Donald McCarthy
Don McCarthy is a PhD candidate in the Classics department. In 2025, he won a prestigious award from the UofT, honouring his work teaching Latin and implementing innovative pedagogical strategies. His dissertation examines the influence of Peripatetic and Epicurean philosophy on the composition of Vergil’s Georgics. We talk to him today about learning languages and his experiences teaching Latin.
Tell me about the award you’ve won recently.
I won the Teaching Assistant Training Program’s CI Teaching Excellence Award which is an annual award based on a department nomination and teaching dossier.
It’s a pretty big deal, right?
(Laughs) Yeah, I guess it is. It’s a competition across all the departments at the UofT, so there were a lot of strong nominees. It was really flattering to win it, and I was kind of shocked. I didn’t really think I had a chance. One of the highlights was an invitation to a pedagogy workshop with the other award finalists where I was invited to talk about my experiences teaching. They’re a very nice group at TATP and they were helpful in thinking about how to present ourselves as teachers.
Why do you think you won the award?
I guess I can’t say for certain why I won, but I would imagine part of the reason is that I’ve had the opportunity to teach Latin at all undergraduate levels. I think that having to adapt to a wide range of students’ abilities might have been a point in my favour. I also try to incorporate more interactive activities, like a Latin choose-your-own-adventure novella for students in an introductory class to get them interested in reading longer passages, or occasional spoken Latin activities. I think that these sorts of activities allow students with very different strengths to have opportunities to show off their skills in class.
Do you think the classroom has changed in the past few years?
Some of the references I make seem not to land and I don’t understand all of their references either. For instance, there seems to be a new or increased interest in the reception of Classics in video games and things like that, which is new for me. But I don’t think the students themselves are changing. There is often a tendency to panic about the influence of computers or AI, but I’m convinced that the students are, by and large, just as strong and diligent as they’ve always been. I don’t think there’s any point in being pessimistic. The committed students will always find a way to do good work.
What advice would you have for someone teaching their first class on their own?
It’s hard to say, because you really do just have to teach to learn how to. But I would say don’t be afraid to experiment. Don’t worry too much about following to the letter any particular formula from past instructors or courses. You have to make every course your own, to some degree. Enjoy the experience and try to connect with your students.
Do you think there’s a good way to integrate your own research as a PhD student into the classroom? How do you help students get into some of the bigger topics in Classics in a first-year language course?
Yeah, I think it’s definitely possible, even if it’s more difficult than at a graduate or advanced level. For all of my Latin classes, I’ve always introduced myself as a Latin poetry sort of person. That seems to interest a lot of students. To hear that someone can actually do an advanced degree in poetry is a novelty for many of them. Sometimes I get questions about Vergil, or I’ll include a few verses from the Aeneid for translation exercises. Most of all, the students know when the instructor is interested in the material and when they’re not. So, I think bringing in your own enthusiasm can be a way to keep students motivated.
What did your process of learning Latin look like?
I would say Latin was the first language I put a lot of personal effort in. I think it shaped me into a more serious person academically. I didn’t come into Latin with some sort of linguistic virtuosity or anything like that. But in university I encountered instructors who were very clearly passionate about their subjects and were also very clearly experts. That became something that I aspired to very early on—to be an expert in a field and show that same kind of genuine interest to students.
What other languages do you know? Do they have any effect on how you teach Latin?
I started learning French pretty young, but I didn’t really become fluent until I was an adult. I went to university in Quebec, which helped, but working a job there was the real trial by fire situation. I took a minor in German, though I wouldn’t say I’m nearly as comfortable in the language. Of course, I studied Ancient Greek as well. I also know a bit of modern Irish. Learning more is a long-term goal for me.
You also studied Yiddish at one point, right?
I did take some Yiddish classes in university. I was a big fan of the novels of Der Nister and Moyshe Kulbak, which is a big part of what inspired my interest for the language. But yeah, I think learning other languages can help with Latin and Greek—as teachers we can find it easy to forget the nervousness and the anxiety of approaching a new language. After you’ve read a thousand pages of Latin, it’s hard to remember what it feels like to have read zero pages of Latin. Giving yourself some humility is an important part of being a teacher (laughs).
Is there anything else you would like to mention?
I want to thank Adriana Brook, Alison Keith, Lorenza Bennardo, and Jarrett Welsh for all of their support with my award nomination and teaching dossier. They were a big part of why I think I won the award, and they all have impacted how I think about teaching and what I bring to the classroom. I think we as a department have been extremely fortunate to have such a nuanced and serious focus on pedagogy at all levels. Huge kudos to all the faculty and graduate instructors in the department.