Diana Arterian’s Agrippina the Younger is a poetry collection that reaches across two thousand years to hold a conversation with one of Rome’s most complicated women. Agrippina the Younger, mother of Nero, sister of Caligula, wife of Emperor Claudius, has been reduced by most historical accounts to a schemer, a seductress, or a cautionary tale. Arterian refuses all of those frames. Instead, she builds a collection that treats Agrippina as a full human being navigating systems designed to use and discard her, and in doing so, she creates a mirror for the present.
Published by Nightboat Books, this 124-page collection moves between lyric verse and prose poems, between ancient Rome and contemporary America, between the body of a historical figure and the body of the poet writing about her. Arterian’s project is ambitious: she wants to understand not just who Agrippina was, but what it means to study a woman whose story has been told almost exclusively by men. The result is a book that is intellectually rigorous, emotionally charged, and formally inventive, sometimes within the same poem.
What makes the collection work is Arterian’s willingness to sit with contradiction. Agrippina was powerful and vulnerable, calculating and desperate, a mother and a political operative. Arterian does not try to resolve these tensions. She lets them coexist on the page, and the poems are stronger for it. This is not a rehabilitation of Agrippina’s reputation; it is something more interesting: an attempt to see her clearly, without the distortions of moralism or myth.
The collection opens with poems that establish Arterian’s dual focus: the ancient world and the poet’s own position as a woman studying it. Early pieces set scenes from Agrippina’s childhood, her relationship with her mother (also named Agrippina), and the political violence that shaped her family. These poems are dense with historical detail but never feel like versified Wikipedia entries. Arterian selects her details with a novelist’s eye for the telling particular: a mosaic floor, the smell of a banquet hall, the texture of a garment worn to a political audience.
Several poems stand out for their formal daring. A sequence near the middle of the book intercuts descriptions of Agrippina’s marriage to Claudius with fragments of contemporary news reports about women in politics. The juxtaposition is jarring in the best sense, forcing the reader to recognize patterns that span millennia. Another poem uses footnotes as a second narrative track, with the main text presenting the “official” account of an event while the footnotes offer Agrippina’s possible interior experience. This technique could feel gimmicky in lesser hands, but Arterian earns it through precision and restraint.
The collection’s treatment of motherhood is particularly striking. Agrippina’s relationship with Nero, the son who would eventually order her murder, is explored through poems that refuse to reduce her to either a loving mother or a manipulative one. Arterian captures the way political power and parental love become entangled when survival depends on your child’s success. These poems carry an emotional weight that the more cerebral historical pieces sometimes lack, and they ground the collection in recognizable human feeling.
The collection is organized roughly chronologically, following Agrippina’s life from childhood through her rise to power and her eventual death. But Arterian disrupts this chronology at key moments, inserting poems set in the present day or poems that address the reader directly. These interruptions prevent the book from becoming a simple biography in verse. They remind us that we are reading an interpretation, not a transcript, and that the poet’s act of looking backward is itself a kind of political statement.
The pacing is deliberate. Arterian allows space between the denser, more allusive poems, placing shorter lyric pieces that function almost as breathing room. This rhythm keeps the collection from becoming exhausting, which it easily could given the weight of its subject matter. The final section, dealing with Agrippina’s death and legacy, accelerates noticeably, with shorter lines and more fragmented syntax. This formal choice mirrors the violence and chaos of Agrippina’s final years, and it gives the closing poems a propulsive energy that contrasts effectively with the measured tone of the opening.
At its core, Agrippina the Younger is a book about how women’s stories get told, and by whom. Arterian returns repeatedly to the problem of sources: almost everything we know about Agrippina comes from male historians, several of whom wrote decades after her death and had political reasons to portray her negatively. Arterian does not dismiss these sources, but she reads them against the grain, asking what they reveal about the writers as much as about their subject. This historiographic awareness gives the collection intellectual depth without making it feel like an academic exercise.
The collection also explores the relationship between power and the body. Agrippina’s body, as Arterian shows, was a political instrument: her marriages were strategic, her beauty a tool, her fertility a source of both leverage and danger. Arterian draws connections between ancient Roman attitudes toward women’s bodies and contemporary ones, but she does so with subtlety rather than polemic. A poem about Agrippina’s appearance at a state dinner echoes, without directly referencing, modern conversations about how women in public life are judged by their appearance. The resonance is felt rather than stated, which makes it more powerful.
There is also a thread running through the collection about what it costs to study violence. Arterian acknowledges that immersing herself in Agrippina’s world, a world of assassination, exile, and sexual coercion, has an effect on her own psyche. Several poems address the poet’s exhaustion and unease, her sense that she is consuming another woman’s pain for the sake of art. This self-awareness prevents the collection from becoming exploitative. Arterian is honest about the ethical complications of her project, and that honesty is itself a form of respect for her subject.
Arterian’s style shifts fluidly between registers. Some poems are spare and imagistic, built from short lines and sharp visual details. Others are discursive, almost essayistic, working through ideas in long, winding sentences that accumulate meaning through qualification and digression. This range keeps the collection from settling into a single mode, and it mirrors the complexity of its subject: Agrippina cannot be captured in one style, so Arterian uses many.
The voice is confident without being showy. Arterian trusts her readers to follow allusions and to sit with ambiguity. She does not over-explain, and she resists the temptation to moralize. When she presents a scene of political violence, she lets the facts do the work. When she draws a parallel between past and present, she offers it as an observation, not a thesis. This restraint is one of the collection’s greatest strengths. It treats the reader as a collaborator rather than a student, and it gives the poems room to resonate beyond their immediate context.
Agrippina the Younger is a collection that rewards patience and rereading. It is not a quick or easy book; it asks you to bring your attention and your willingness to think alongside the poet. But the rewards are substantial. Arterian has created a work that is at once a portrait of a historical figure, a meditation on gender and power, and an inquiry into the ethics of storytelling itself. For readers who value poetry that thinks as hard as it feels, this is essential reading. It stands as one of the most accomplished collections of 2025, deserving of every award it has received.
Agrippina the Younger is a poetry collection that explores the life of the Roman empress Agrippina the Younger, mother of Nero and one of the most powerful women in ancient Rome. Diana Arterian uses lyric verse and prose poems to examine Agrippina’s rise to power, her political marriages, and her violent death, while drawing connections between ancient Roman attitudes toward women and contemporary gender politics. The collection also reflects on the ethics of writing about historical women whose stories have been shaped primarily by male historians.
Agrippina the Younger (15-59 AD) was a Roman empress, the sister of Emperor Caligula, the wife of Emperor Claudius, and the mother of Emperor Nero. She was one of the most politically influential women in Roman history, wielding significant power behind the throne. Ancient historians often portrayed her as scheming and ambitious, though modern scholars have reassessed her legacy. She was ultimately murdered on the orders of her own son, Nero.
Diana Arterian’s Agrippina the Younger won the William Carlos Williams Award from the Poetry Society of America and the Medal Provocateur from the Eric Hoffer Book Awards. It was also named a Best Poetry Collection of 2025 by both Electric Literature and Ms. Magazine, and it won a 2025 Meridian Award. The collection has been widely praised for its formal innovation and its thoughtful treatment of gender and power.
Arterian employs a range of forms throughout the collection, including lyric verse, prose poems, footnoted poems, and sequences that intercut historical and contemporary material. Some poems are spare and imagistic with short lines, while others take a more discursive, essayistic approach. This formal variety reflects the complexity of the subject matter and prevents the collection from settling into a single register.
The collection is intellectually demanding but accessible to readers willing to engage with its layered approach. Arterian does not require specialized knowledge of Roman history; she provides enough context within the poems for readers to follow. The shifting forms and registers ask for attentive reading, but the emotional core of the poems, particularly those about motherhood and survival, offers clear entry points even for readers less familiar with poetry.
Arterian draws parallels between ancient Roman attitudes toward women in power and contemporary gender politics, sometimes through direct juxtaposition and sometimes through subtler echoes. She intercepts descriptions of Agrippina’s political life with fragments of modern news reports and reflects on how women’s bodies remain political instruments across centuries. These connections are offered as observations rather than arguments, allowing readers to draw their own conclusions.
The collection explores the complicated bond between Agrippina and her son Nero with particular depth. Arterian captures how political power and parental love became entangled when Agrippina’s survival depended on Nero’s success. The poems resist simplifying Agrippina as either a loving mother or a manipulative one, instead presenting the full emotional range of a relationship that ended in Nero ordering his mother’s assassination.
Agrippina the Younger is 124 pages long and was published by Nightboat Books in June 2025. The collection is available in paperback. It is Diana Arterian’s third full-length poetry collection, following Playing Monster :: Seiche and Death Centos.
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