The book aims to provide a history of antiquity, spanning nearly 3,000 years from Minoan Crete right up to the end of the Julio-Claudian dynasty in Rome, emphasizing women's roles within this vast tapestry. It's not solely _about_ women, but rather an attempt to write history _through_ them where possible, subtly shifting the spotlight to reveal the women often in the shadows of famous men like the Ptolemys, Caesars, and Alexanders. The title itself, "The Missing Thread," seems to echo a central theme, drawing on the ancient craft of weaving, which was a primary occupation for women in antiquity and a powerful symbol of life and death, like the Fates spinning destiny. Let's start our exploration in the deep past, back in Minoan Crete, an island described as peculiarly bovine in shape. This Bronze Age civilization, which the Mycenaeans later learned from, is presented as potentially "women-revering". While legendary figures like King Minos, Queen Pasiphaë, and the Minotaur dominate the myths, the archaeological evidence offers a different perspective. Arthur Evans, excavating at Knossos, found grand buildings he initially assumed supported a male-led monarchy, even jokingly calling a chair "the throne of Ariadne". However, there's no solid proof of a real King Minos or that men necessarily ruled Minoan Crete. The complex at Knossos, far from being just a palace, functioned more as a cultural hub with workshops, storage, administration areas, and spaces for religious rites. Fascinatingly, images of labyrinths were found on frescoes and writing tablets. Evans connected the Minoan symbol of the double-axe (_labrys_) to the idea of the palace as a labyrinth, and while the etymological link might be shaky, the fact that women are often depicted holding the double-axe suggests they stood at the heart of this complex, labyrinthine world, perhaps symbolizing female power. Craftsmanship, linked to the myth of Daedalus, was also central to Minoan culture, with workshops found at Knossos and Gournia, and it's considered highly likely that many of these skilled craftspeople were women, potentially contributing significantly to the economy through textile trade. Minoan women also appear to have wielded considerable religious authority within the palace complexes and wider society, participating in rituals like libations and bull sacrifice, and potentially using lustral basins for purification rituals. Before diving into the Mycenaeans, it's worth noting that the art of writing was already established elsewhere, with the Sumerians being pioneers. And guess what? The _first ever named author_ in the world was a Sumerian woman named Enheduanna. She was a poet and high priestess in the third millennium BC, whose father, Sargon, ruled a vast empire. Enheduanna wrote powerful temple hymns and poems, praising goddesses like Inanna, known for her fearsome voice and ability to overwhelm the land. Crucially, Enheduanna had the foresight to sign her work, preserving her name for posterity. She also wrote openly about her own experience of assault, using her hymn to incriminate and curse her attacker, and finding inspiration from Inanna to regain her strength. This act of writing preserved her name and story, saving her from the anonymity that was the common fate of many women in antiquity. Moving into the Mycenaean era in Greece, their writing system, Linear B, has been deciphered, unlike the Minoan Linear A. Surviving clay tablets offer insights into women's lives, listing over 2,000 different women at sites like Pylos and Knossos. The sign for "Woman" in Linear B is quite evocative, depicting features like breasts, a long skirt, and dressed hair. These records show that women were engaged in hard, practical labor that was recognized as highly skilled. Tablet entries sometimes even identified men by their mothers' crafts, like "sons of flax-workers". Interestingly, female workers received the same food rations as their male counterparts, unlike in places like Babylonia where men received significantly more. There were even wealthy, landowning priestesses called "keybearers" at Pylos, capable of donating large amounts of grain to the palace. The transition from the Mycenaean period, marked symbolically by the Trojan War, is presented as a shift that was "far less progressive for women". Homer's epics captured a world ending, though the violence, enslavement of women, and feuds he described were tragically true to life. The question of Homer's identity is a long-standing puzzle, with several cities claiming him. While the ancient world generally agreed Homer wrote both the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_, some, like Samuel Butler and Robert Graves centuries later, speculated that the _Odyssey_, with its domestic focus and perceived "mistakes a man would never make," might have been composed by a woman, perhaps Phantasia or even Nausicaa, the princess who aids Odysseus. This theory gained some traction partly because the epic features highly creative women, like Penelope, whose ingenuity at the loom, weaving and unweaving a shroud, is highlighted as a virtue. Beyond Homer, the sources introduce early female poets like Erinna, whose poem "The Distaff" recalled childhood memories, weaving imagery with the mythological Fates. The famous Sappho of Lesbos is also discussed, living in a time of political upheaval in Mytilene. Sappho, a keen weaver herself, saw the first woman, Pandora, as an archetypal weaver and became known as "a weaver of tales". She ran a school, the "House of the Muses," and her relationships with her pupils, and her competitive spirit, are explored, including her strong reactions when students left to join a rival school. Sappho's ambition for _kleos_, a glorious and undying reputation, like that of Homeric heroes, is highlighted. She even taunted women uninterested in poetry with the threat of being forgotten after death. Her exile to Sicily, potentially due to political maneuvering by the tyrant Pittacus or even revenge from a former pupil, is mentioned, drawing parallels with her brother's perilous sea travels. Other female poets mentioned include Myrtis and Praxilla, and Anyte, who wrote epigrams, demonstrating a tradition of women's poetic voices. The Oracle at Delphi and its priestess, the Pythia, emerge as significant figures in international politics. Initially young virgins, the Pythia had to be aged fifty or over and celibate after one was raped. They were seen as Apollo's mouthpiece, dispensing wisdom nine days a year after entering a trance. The oracle's influence grew immense, attracting wealth from cities like Corinth and Lydia. Its advice wasn't just for kings and politicians; the poet Telesilla, for instance, was advised by the Pythia to write poetry to manage a chronic illness, finding comfort and a means of connecting with others, particularly women who admired her work. The Pythia wasn't always neutral, however, as shown by the Alcmaeonids bribing her to instruct Spartans to free Athens from tyranny, revealing her capacity to shape alliances and dynasties. Even the clever Gorgo of Sparta used her understanding of writing tablets and secret messages to decipher a warning about Xerxes' Persian invasion, providing crucial intelligence based on information from a defector. Speaking of Persia, the vast Achaemenid Empire, the largest in the world at its height, featured several notable women. Amytis, wife of Cyrus the Great, marked the beginning of the empire's foundation. Tomyris, a queen of the Massagetae tribe, stood defiantly against Cyrus's expansionist ambitions, sending him a powerful message through a herald. The mysterious circumstances surrounding Darius I's rise to power involve women like Phaedyme, who helped uncover the false Smerdis by checking for ears, and his mother Amytis, who poisoned herself in despair. Darius himself glorified his actions on the Bisitun cliff alongside a relief carved earlier by Queen Semiramis of Babylon, showing a pattern of women claiming monumental achievements. Darius's wives also held influence; Artystone enjoyed financial independence and the use of an elaborately decorated seal, and her seal alongside her chamberlain's suggests she was clearly in charge. Atossa, daughter of Cyrus and mother of Xerxes, held immense power, "the totality of power" according to Herodotus, involved in political affairs and possibly the first to compose letters independently. She influenced Darius's decisions, such as permitting a reconnaissance mission to Greece based on her request via her doctor. Xerxes' wife, Amestris, was a renowned weaver, owning land named after clothing items, and her skill led to a domestic tragedy when Xerxes gave her unique cloak to his new paramour. Moving westward to classical Athens, the play _Lysistrata_ humorously highlights women's frustrations with wartime and their exclusion from political decision-making. Lysistrata herself uses weaving as a metaphor for how women could "weave a new cloak of state" if given the chance, and the women's sex strike ultimately forces the men to seek peace. Despite being largely confined to the home and denied public voices, some women found ways to exert influence. Aspasia of Miletus, Pericles' partner, was renowned for her intellect and conversational skills, potentially influencing Pericles to the extent that she was blamed for the Samian War and called "the new Helen of Troy" by a comedian. She moved in intellectual circles and may have even taught Socrates about love, appearing as the wise Diotima in Plato's _Symposium_. The legal case against Neaera, a hetaera (a type of companion, often highly educated), reveals the strict distinctions men made between women based on status – hetaerae for pleasure, concubines for ministration, and wives for legitimate children and domestic loyalty. Across the Mediterranean, the Macedonians were often seen as cultural backwater by the Greeks. However, women like Eurydice, mother of Philip II, took pride in learning to write in the fourth century BC. A story about Timocleia, a Thracian woman raped by soldiers, shows her cunning and bravery in resisting her attackers and being rewarded by Alexander the Great for her dignity and connection to an opposing soldier. The period after Alexander's death saw women like Adea-Eurydice, wife of Philip III, who had military training from her mother and used words and accusations to stir up revolt against Antipater, proving words could be more powerful than weapons. Alexander's formidable mother, Olympias, also played a ruthless role in the power struggles, eventually being isolated and fleeing. The history of Rome is also woven with the threads of women's stories. The mythical founding involves Rhea Silvia, a Vestal Virgin impregnated by Mars. The Vestal Virgins themselves were powerful priestesses, entitled to make wills and free from male guardianship, though their vow of chastity was strictly enforced with the threat of being buried alive for impurity. Tanaquil, an Etruscan queen, is credited with inventing ceremonial garments like the _tunica recta_ and inspiring the custom of brides carrying a distaff and spindle, earning her a statue in Rome. A pivotal moment in Roman history, the birth of the Republic, is tied to the story of Lucretia, a noblewoman raped by the king's son. Her suicide, after recounting the deed and insisting her mind was undefiled even if her body was, sparked a revolution led by Brutus, leading to the overthrow of the monarchy. The story of Verginia, abducted and killed by her father to save her from enslavement and sexual violence, mirrored Lucretia's tale and also incited popular uprising. The Roman Republic and later Empire saw women navigating complex political landscapes. Fulvia, initially known for passing information to Cicero, rose to prominence as the wife of Publius Clodius Pulcher and later Mark Antony. She became a significant political force, notably leading armies in the Perusine War in Antony's interest, even wearing a sword and addressing soldiers, an act seen by some as unnaturally manly. Though some sources accused her of stirring war to bring Antony home from Cleopatra, her primary aim seems to have been strengthening his position against Octavian. Fulvia ultimately died as a scapegoat, blamed for the fragility of the alliance between Antony and Octavian, her loyalty and fortitude overlooked. Other Roman women are discussed in relation to political events: Terentia, Cicero's wife, corresponded actively and had concerns about her son's political ambitions; Porcia, Brutus's wife, demonstrated fierce loyalty and resilience, even injuring herself to show her strength before the conspiracy against Caesar; Hortensia, daughter of a famous orator, eloquently represented Roman women arguing against a tax burden, critiquing figures like Fulvia. In the east, the rivalry between Rome and Carthage was deeply rooted in the legend of Dido, the founding queen of Carthage. While no historical Dido exists, she was real to the Carthaginians, her story tied to their origins. The Roman poet Virgil portrayed Dido's tragic love affair with Aeneas, his abandonment of her leading to her suicide and a curse on his descendants. This curse served as a poetic explanation for the Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage. Carthaginian women also appear in history, like the female "gorillas" captured by Hanno on his voyage or Imilce, Hannibal's wife, who, unlike Dido, is portrayed as wanting to go to war with him, not despairing but showing fortitude. Roman women's contributions during the Punic Wars are also noted, such as Claudia, who was fined for expressing frustration with a naval defeat but whose money helped build a temple to Freedom. The goddess Cybele, brought to Rome during the Second Punic War, was helped ashore by another Claudia, clearing her name from gossip about her virtue. Later, during Rome's expansion, Sophonisba, a Numidian queen married first to Syphax and then Masinissa, chose to die by poison rather than be paraded in a Roman triumph, demonstrating fierce pride and defiance. Imperial Rome continued to feature women in positions of influence, though often viewed through a critical lens. Julia the Elder, Augustus's daughter, was closely scrutinized by her father, who controlled her appearance and social life; she was eventually exiled. Livia, Augustus's wife, was a powerful figure, sometimes seen by historians as interfering, but also described as a "Romana princeps" (first lady) who influenced Augustus on matters like citizenship and clemency. A senatorial decree even explicitly states Livia's role in securing an acquittal for a woman accused of poisoning her grandson. The tragic story of Messalina, Claudius's wife, highlights the dangers of the imperial court; her elaborate public relationship with Silius led to her betrayal by Claudius's freedman Narcissus and his mistresses, ultimately resulting in her execution. Overall, "The Missing Thread" seems to weave together these myriad stories, showing how women, whether famous or obscure, mythical or historical, played vital roles in shaping the ancient world. From priestesses and poets to queens and commoners, their lives were complex, marked by both constraints and surprising moments of agency, ambition, and influence. The book appears to argue that by focusing on women's experiences, from domestic life and weaving to religious authority and political maneuvering, we gain a richer, more complete understanding of antiquity. This overview certainly opens up further questions! For instance, how did the lives of women vary significantly across the different cultures and periods covered – from Minoan Crete to Persia to Rome? How did the perception and influence of women change over these nearly three millennia? And how much of our understanding is colored by the perspectives of the (often male) writers who recorded these stories? Exploring these questions based on the book's detailed accounts would undoubtedly reveal even more about the intricate "missing threads" of women's history in the classical world.