Chronicle of the Roman Republic by Philip Matyszak – Review

The Chronicle of the Roman Republic by Philip Matyszak presents the lives and times of Roman rulers from Romulus to Augustus, in an accessible and colorful way. The book is part of the Chronicle Series, published by Thames & Hudson, which also includes the Chronicle of the Roman Emperors, of the Popes, of the Old Testament Kings, of the Russian Tsars, and so on – with the obvious goal of making history accessible and easy to understand.

Truth is, this is the kind of book you'd never think of buying until you run out of gift ideas for a friend with an interest in history. It's rather a coffee table book than one you can take with you in the bathtub to enhance your knowledge while relaxing in lavender bubbles. It has hundreds of nice illustrations, inserts and text boxes that describe various aspects of the daily life in ancient Rome, serving as explanations for the main events.

Thus, the book is awesome for quick references, when you don't have your smartphone to check something on the net, but it doesn't get you a smooth reading experience, which is a pity, since history is supposed to be a story after all. The format would be better suited for hypertext rather than printed text, but I have yet to find a website that's organized with so much care and attention to details. The main problem is that the format of the Chronicles series doesn't really suit the topic. The author has to break down the time-line by the lives of the rulers, so he can't always follow through each event in its logical unfolding. The format works great for the imperial period, but the history of the Republic is a mixture of legends, confusion, and taunting archaeological evidence, which doesn't always make sense. Probably the Romans themselves, despite being used to the annals, would have been confused by the system as well: their first history of Rome purposely mentioned no names; people weren't relevant, the City was.

Once you get over the initial disappointment that you have a pretty book that can't be read like a normal book, you'll find that the Chronicle of the Roman Republic has actually a lot of substance. Philip Matyszak does not compromise accuracy for the appeal of the text, but he does have a sense of selecting trivia and amusing details to keep the reader entertained. If you've already read all the primary, ancient sources, and one or two other books about the period, you may not find a lot of new information in the Chronicle – but it's still a pretty thing to have. If you're new to the topic, and you're looking for a good overview, it makes a great resource, because the Republic is otherwise rather dull, and many other materials that have been published on the topic are not easy to swallow by casual readers.  

A Mist of Prophecies by Steven Saylor – Review

In 48 BC, Rome is holding its breath, waiting for the outcome of the conflict between Caesar and Pompey. Nobody knows which side to take, everybody expects a bloodshed, irrespective of the winner, supplies are scarce, debts are accumulating, and, basically, the world is changing forever... but that's no reason for a good detective to stop investigating murders, is it?

A Mist of Prophecies is another novel by Steven Saylor in the Roma Sub Rosa series, and we follow yet again Gordianus the Finder as he tries to navigate carefully among the many political factions of the time, balance his checkbook, maintain peace in a household full of adopted children, and, of course, catch a murderer. If you liked the other novels in the Roma Sub Rosa series, you'll love this one. If you liked any of the mysteries set in the ancient world ever written, you'll love Steven Saylor, who's without a doubt one of the masters of the genre. (And, by the way, if you don't know yet what “Sub Rosa” stands for, you'll find out in this novel.)

The highlight of the Mist of Prophecies is the gallery of Roman women: Terentia, Fulvia, Sempronia, Cytheris, Fausta, Clodia, and Calpurnia – all actual historical characters, of which we know relatively little today. Saylor tries to give them a voice, or at least an image, and to imagine which places they held in the web of political intrigue of the age. This approach gives the author a lot of room for creativity, since the historical documents about the women of the time are scarce anyway, and unreliable at best, and the actual detective plot is entirely fictional – but Saylor does not compromise on historical accuracy in other details, which is why he's among my favorites.

Gordianus himself is more Hercule Poirot than James Bond, which does contribute to the impression of authenticity, but not to the character's charm. I for one could sympathize with his financial problems, but I found the romantic plot a bit far-fetched. Then again, after about a dozen of mysteries solved, maybe it was time for Gordianus to get trapped in a love story, like all detectives should, at some point.

The most fascinating character of them all, however, is Rome itself, seen through the eyes of Gordianus – at the same time familiar (in the way New York is familiar to those who watch CSI-NY, without having ever been there) and frightening – the place where anything can happen, and nothing is what it seems. It's good that we have Gordianus to guide us in the maze of streets, and it's even better that Gordianus has a bodyguard to take care of things when they get rough. But in the end, even if Rome is dangerous and unpredictable in 48 BC, you end up envying Gordianus the Finder, for being so closely involved in the events that changed the world. And for his love affair with a beautiful Egyptian.  

Pompeii by Robert Harris – Book Review

I am a huge, huge fan of Robert Harris, and I strongly believe he is one of the best contemporary British novelists – and there's some stiff competition out there. So imagine how thrilled I was about Pompeii – a novel by one of my favorite authors, set in one of my favorite time periods, the Flavian dynasty, and whose main character is the little working hero of the Roman empire, the engineer. Young engineer Marcus Attilius Primus is appointed to take care of the great aqueduct Aqua Augusta when the previous chief engineer disappears without a trace. Yay, mystery. He meets a girl and they fall in love – yay, romance – but her evil father gets in the way – yay, Romeo and Juliet. The real hero of the novel is, as you might have guessed, Vesuvius itself, on the verge of producing one of the biggest natural disasters in ancient Rome. There's also a cameo appearance by Pliny the Elder – I would have been very disappointed without it.

Even for a freak like me, it doesn't get any more Roman than a story about an aqueduct and an engineer.

I guess I was over-excited about this book for the first 50 pages or so. Then, it started getting on my nerves. The characters are stereotypical, the storyline falls flat – we pretty much know the volcano is going to erupt, can we get some action going in the meantime? - and the descriptive paragraphs just fail to accentuate the drama. Somehow I always assumed the great dualism, on a descriptive level, was between the mild, inviting, serene landscape of the area and the brutal destruction it revealed to be capable of – but Pompeii didn't confirm that. And didn't give me a better idea, either. I assume the great eruption is a subject better fitted for a painter than a writer.

After 100 pages or so, I started to notice the anachronisms, which is not a good sign; and I was dragging along over the lava-filled ending. I could very well see Robert Harris' Pompeii turned into a B movie, like those about the earthquake, the snake invasion, the killer bees invasion or the natural disaster of your choice wreaking havoc in the city of your choice.

All in all, Robert Harris' Pompeii is too dry to be a historical whodunit, too simple to be great historical fiction, too inaccurate to present itself as decent historical reading, and I can only say: don't judge Rober Harris on this book. He's got some great ones out there.  

Yet More Ancient Plumbing! Flushed by W. Hodding Carter – Review

Yes, I know, I have a fixation with ancient plumbing and toilets. Is it creepy that I find them entertaining? Especially the ancient Roman toilets, where people could have a nice chat and catch up on the news and gossip while doing their... business.

Well, at least I'm not the only one with such a problem with ancient plumbing, as proved by “Flushed – How the Plumber Saved Civilization Proves”. W Hodding Carter is funny and charming and turned this book into a really easy reading experience. The journey starts from the earliest times, spends a lot of time in ancient Rome, moves on to worse experiences in the overcrowded London a millennium and a half later, and ends up with our modern facilities. Everything is spiced up by the author's attempts to recreate ancient toilets in his own backyard. (He did it so we don't have to.)

Flushed is funny, relaxing, and kept me awake on an airplane trip, which says a lot.

Don't buy it if you're an expert in plumbing or the history of plumbing and you're looking to expand your knowledge into what's already your area of expertise. It's not technical, and doesn't bring anything new. (Even if it's not a technical manual on how to build your own ancient Roman plumbing system, it could have benefited from some pictures and illustrations – which, sadly, are not there.)

Also don't buy it if you're a history buff and you're going to frown upon every little inconsistency. The sources are secondary, at best, and the accuracy is questionable.

If you're everybody else on the planet, go ahead and read it. You'll treat your toilet with much more respect after that.

Steven Saylor - A Murder on the Appian Way - Review

I'm quite good at starting the review of a series with the most illogical item. So, keeping up with a good tradition, A Murder on the Appian Way is the fifth volume in Steven Saylor's “Roma Sub Rosa” series.

I've been meaning to write about the Roma Sub Rosa series for some time now, as it stands out from the dozens of whodunits placed against a historical background due to the impressive research work and accurate re-creation of the Roman world in the troubled moments when the republic was about to become an empire.

Argh, who am I kidding? If you like the historical mysteries genre, you'll like them all, and you must try Saylor's series.

The main character, Gordianus the Finder, is more realistic than his detective counterparts from similar books – wiser, kinder, more mature. Since he's not part of the nobility, his family, his home and his habits provide a believable reconstruction of the daily life of the regular people, in contrast with the unavoidable descriptions of the properties of the rich and famous.

That being said, I'm not sure I like Gordianus. He's old, happily married with children, which is not at all my idea of a mysterious, sexy, adventurous private eye. (Yes, it's a cliché. Go read Dostoevsky if cliches bother you that much.)

The murder on the Appian Way is that of Clodius, and Saylor takes the opportunity to recreate in detail the most famous of the famous Roman roads. This is one of the highlights of the novel, along with the delicate study of mob control techniques – not that different back then from what they are now. I also enjoyed the portrayal of Cicero, very close to how I imagined him, and not so much that of Clodia – but this is mostly my problem, Clodia keeps popping up in every book I've been reading recently, and she's so not worth all the hype.

If the historical part of the book is brilliant, I can't say the same for the mystery part, which was a bit disappointing. The action drags along at times, and the murderer is... well, go read it and judge for yourselves. A Murder on the Appian Way did not make it in my personal top ten, but it was definitely worth my time.

David Wishart – Ovid

Yes, I know it's already 2011, so I should be reviewing “Bodies Politic” or, in the worst case, “The Horse Coin”, but I have to admit I just read the first novel by David Wishart last week. The good news (for me, of course) is that I started from the beginning with the adventures of Marcus Corvinus, that is, with “Ovid”.

In case there's somebody who hasn't heard of Wishart's series, there are now thirteen volumes out, with Marcus Corvinus as the Philip Marlowe of Rome during the times of Tiberius. Corvinus is actually such a splitting Marlowe image, that we'd have to wait for a new Bogart to be born, before we can hope to see an adaptation of this series on screen.

I'm not sure – yet – how the Corvinus series relates to the other whodunits set in ancient Rome which have flooded the shelves recently, I'd have to go through at least three more volumes for an accurate evaluation, but I'm very excited about how it started out. I guess it's because I was perfectly prepared to be disappointed after the first twenty pages or so, partly because the main line of the plot is very uncharacteristic to the Roman world (not telling you why – go read the book), and partly because of some vocabulary issues – some terms that seem adapted to the modern world in an awkward way. I was already expecting to see Corvinus going to the mall and ordering a martini, but I was wrong.

The book is actually very well documented; the author strays from the historical truth within limits that even an annoying and frustrated purist like myself deems acceptable in fiction. Plus, it's funny and the main character is as authentic as you might expect him to be. I had a quick look at other reviews, and some people seem to believe the language is too coarse for a historical fiction piece... which makes me believe those people have not read anything since the days of Livy. Or maybe they have both Ovid and Suetonius in censored editions. The jokes in Wishart's Ovid are actually more along the line of what topics to avoid when making small talk with Oedipus and what marketable skills one might pick up from Mercury. Funny in a geeky way.

The political mystery to be solved by the hero is not badly chosen, either, as the causes for Ovid's exile to Tomis are still unknown today. So I'd say Ovid himself would have approved of this book, despite the lack of proper hexameters. I, for one, am looking forward to reading the rest of the series.

Gwyn Morgan - 69 A.D.: The Year of Four Emperors

Just thought I'd share with you what I've been reading lately: 69 A.D.: The Year of Four Emperors, by Gwyn Morgan.

All the documentation work that went into writing this book is impressive, I'd recommend it without a doubt to anybody doing serious research on that period. Not so much to those who just want to read something simply for their enjoyment. (Yes, I know. Who reads history books for enjoyment anyway? Well, I do. Maybe there are others out there just like me - in outer space or somewhere.)

The book is a little dry - given that it's one of the juiciest years in history, it could have been a bit more alert, without falling into sensationalism. Also, considering that it's one of the best documented moments, with several of the major Roman historians relating the events, I feel that modern authors might try to express some personal ideas on the subject - even if it's just a footnote, originality hasn't killed anyone. Ok, maybe it has killed a few academic careers, but I'm not recommending high doses, just a little food for the thoughts of those amateur readers like myself.

One thing the book definitely needs is more maps. Lots of maps, since the author dwells so much on describing the campaigns and the routes of the armies. Hopefully the editors will take the hint and include some maps in the next edition; until then, read it with a good historical atlas at hand. The first century is still one of the coolest times in history for me, by the way. Vespasian rules. So does Tacitus.

Ray Laurence – Roman Passions

Here's to all the nice people out there who write good books for the long winter months. Ray Laurence's “Roman Passions – A History of Pleasure in Imperial Rome” is precisely one of those readings that require a cup of hot cocoa and soft carols in the background. And a cat purring somewhere on a rag.

I was a bit reluctant with this one, since the title made me believe it would be one of those tabloid-type works, but it's not – quite to the contrary, it's well balanced and carefully documented. Guess the title was just for marketing purposes – and I wonder if it didn't work the other way round – people who actually bought the book were disappointed and found it dry history, while those searching for serious history overlooked it. (I got it as a birthday present. To be sure, I would have bought it anyway, I buy everything Rome-related, even when I suspect it's the biggest junk in the world.)

In “Roman Passions”, Laurence manages to present a coherent vision about Roman aesthetics, and does a great job in selecting the common, as well as the exotic bits that shaped it. It was particularly nice to see how he emphasized the fact that the Romans were a rather puritan bunch, and the scandalous stories of the age were just that – stories. This is an idea I found most often in French historic literature, the English-language school seems to ignore it (or take it for granted, with Brits it's always hard to say).

I was a little surprised that the author chose to ignore the games and theaters – or rather, to include them under the generic chapter of “Violence”, when I've always felt that the amphitheaters, odeons and circuses were a social and cultural space in their own right, creating “internal” rules that skewed the natural order of the Roman society quite a bit. Also surprising is how little Laurence quotes Ovid – I'd say he was the supreme authority on Roman pleasure (of course, I'm biased. I like Ovid.)

The uneasy relation Romans had with their own pleasures is well underlined (guilty of feeling good, long before Christianity made it a standard), but more demographic data would have helped me understand Laurence's point of view easier. At times I wasn't sure whether his statements referred to the mindset of the ruling aristocracy or to the masses of Roman citizens.

So, all in all, a good read when it's dark and snowing outside, and may contain some starting points for more serious research in the coming year. If you're still unsure, you can check out the writer's style and ideas in this blog post: Top 10 Passions of Ancient Rome: Sex, Binge Drinking, and the Culture of Pleasure.

Book Review – The Sons of Caesar by Philip Matyszak

The Julio-Claudian dynasty is the darling of authors who write about ancient history – both fiction and non-fiction. There's so much drama, murders, backstabbing and gossiping, and at the same time, so many great achievements were recorded during this ages – the kind that changed Europe forever. In addition, the period is very well documented, both in surviving ancient texts and from the archaeological point of view.

So, one more history book about the Julio-Claudians? What for? We all know the basic plot, Caesar crossed the Rubicon, Caligula made his horse a senator and Nero killed his mother while watching Rome burn... or something like that.

Well, that's the problem. There's too much unverified information about this period, there have been too many movies and fiction books, which managed to turn ancient gossip into modern day facts. So, I think it was time for a new book on the Julio-Claudians, one that takes into account the latest archaeological discoveries and the newest methods of interpretation, focuses on clear facts only and presents an overview of the period, without all the minor details that abound in books that focus on each of the family members separately.

And that's just what Philip Matyszak does in The Sons of Caesar.

General information:

Author: Philip Matyszak

Title: The Sons of Caesar: Imperial Rome's First Dynasty
Language: English

ISBN-10: 0500251282

ISBN-13: 978-0500251287

Price range: starting from $1 (used) up to $35 (new, hardcover)

Philip Matyszak discusses the usual suspects, Caesar, Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius and Nero in chronological order, including clear and detailed family trees to shed some light over the very complex family relations of the first Roman dynasty. The author has a coherent and well-presented view of the power transfer in ancient Rome, from Republic to a (more of less unofficial) ruling family, and then to other dynasties, stressing the key moments when the Republic could have been restored – and why the circumstances were never right for that move.

As always, Philip Matyszak has a clear, concise and enjoyable writing style, and his approach is very well documented, avoiding controversial and unverified claims. The book is well organized, so you can skip to the chapters about your favorite Julio-Claudian, though I would recommend reading it from the beginning to the end, in order to get a full image of the author's argumentation.

For those familiar with the period, The Sons of Caesar does not bring any new facts or epiphanies, but it sets the known details into the right sequence, with a moderate point of view, which avoids the common trap of starting to develop sympathies or antipathies for some of the characters. For those who know only what Hollywood had to share about the 1^st century, it's a good place to start, since it's an easy read, without the tedious minor details of the over-documented accounts.

About the author

Philip Matyszak is a reputed author of history books on ancient Rome and ancient Greece. He teaches ancient history for Madingley Hall Institute of Continuing Education, Cambridge University and has a doctorate in Roman history from St John's College, Oxford. He has immersed himself into the ancient world so much, he admits feeling “a bit uncomfortable in the 21st Century” at times. You can also check out Philip Matyszak's blog.

Now what?

Go to Amazon to purchase The Sons of Caesar: Imperial Rome's First Dynasty.

Have you read it already?

Try another book by the same author:

Legionary: The Roman Soldier's (Unofficial) Manual (Unofficial Manuals)
Ancient Rome on 5 Denarii a Day (Traveling on 5)
Chronicle of the Roman Republic: The Rulers of Ancient Rome from Romulus to Augustus (The Chronicles Series)