The aesthetic quality is especially striking when compared to the Cambridge University Press edition of Sappho, translated by Diane J. Rayor and André Lardinois. That edition, while scholarly and comprehensive, is printed on stark white paper that gives it a "print-on-demand" appearance—somewhat jarring and far less refined than this elegant hardcover.
Yet this comparison highlights a recurring dilemma I’ve encountered with historical Folio Society editions. As physical objects, they are often unmatched in beauty and craftsmanship. However, the content inside sometimes lacks scholarly rigor or up-to-date editorial standards.
In this case, the Cambridge edition contains over 100 more fragments than the Folio, making it the better choice for scholars and serious readers. Still, the Folio edition offers the original Greek text alongside the translation—a rare and valuable feature.
When it comes to the translations themselves, Rayor’s approach is careful, measured, and free from excessive embellishment. In contrast, the Folio edition features Anne Carson’s translation, whose poetic voice (with all due respect) tends to dominate. That said, Sappho’s surviving fragments have long invited imaginative interpretation, and Carson’s rendition fits squarely within that tradition.
Ultimately, each edition has its strengths: the Cambridge for accuracy and completeness; the Folio for beauty and poetic boldness. I’m grateful to have both on my shelf.
