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In the prologue to his Verae Historiae (VH, 1.1-4), Lucian declares that everything that he will utter is a lie, and that no reader should believe him. While this passage has been traditionally interpreted in relationship with Lucian’s satirical intents, particularly in reference to the historiographical tradition (Clay-Brusuelas, Georgiadou-Larmour), in this paper I suggest a new interpretation, considering it in relationship with Aristotle’s Poetics.

The concept of literary fiction is deeply problematic in ancient literature (Feeney, Gill, Rösler). As an undertheorized concept, fiction was often hidden or rejected (Morgan): Even when writing fictional narratives, authors strove to keep a pretense of truthfulness and credibility. According to Aristotle, the criterion of πιθανόν (credibility) must always be preserved (Donadi, Morgan). Lucian is the first one to openly challenge this aesthetic principle: I argue that, by explicitly saying that the reader should not believe in anything he writes, Lucian is defying both the Aristotelian principle of πιθανόν and the tradition of presenting literary texts as true and believable. While Lucian’s contribution to the ancient debate on ancient fiction has been recognized (Kim, ní Mheallaigh), the connection with Aristotle and the degree to which Lucian is openly challenging the Aristotelian tradition have been so far neglected.

First, I discuss the relationship between fiction and ψεῦδος in Lucian by analyzing passages from his Philopseudeis (1-5), in order to argue how Lucian focuses on the rhetorical strategies commonly used to hide the fictionality of narrative.

Then, I proceed with a close reading of Lucian’s Verae Historiae 1.4 in light of Aristotle’s Poetics 1451a36-1451b5. According to Aristotle, the historian writes about what happened (τὰ γενόμενα) and the poet about what could happen according to probability and necessity (οἷα ἂν γένοιτο καὶ τὰ δυνατὰ κατὰ τὸ εἰκὸς ἢ τὸ ἀναγκαῖον). In saying that he is writing about something that never happened (μήτε ὅλως ὄντων) and could never happen (μήτε τὴν ἀρχὴν γενέσθαι δυναμένων), Lucian is replicating the same dichotomy of history (or factual truth) and poetry (or possibility). At the same time, he is placing his own narrative outside of these Aristotelian definitions: What he will narrate is utterly impossible. In a passage from Hermotimus (72), Lucian again proposes the same dichotomy (οὔτε γενόμενα πώποτε οὔτε γενέσθαι δυνάμενα) and, in this case, to openly contradict Aristotle’s view of poetry. I further corroborate my claim with an examination of Aristotle’s concept of πιθανόν (1460a26; 1461b11), according to which the credibility of the text prevails on its plausibility. Lucian suggests an opposite approach: The reader should never believe.

While others have treated Lucian’s skepticism and incredulity in terms of resistance to philosophical and religious mystifications (Laird, Nesselrath), I focus on the literary and rhetorical implications of this concept in the context of the imperial culture. Lucian proposes a new concept of literary fiction, championing a method of literary valuation according to which literature was allowed to differ from reality, to be focused on the impossible, and to be appreciated precisely for this reason.