Hail, Romans!

vaznetti talks about liking the Romans, and with the Ides of March nearly upon us, I thought this was as good a time as any to make a short list of my favourite novels set in Ancient Rome (and in one case, Byzantium, but hey - it's the second Rome!). In no way is this my pathetic attempt to avoid spoiling myself for the BSG finale.

In no particular order:

Thornton Wilder: The Ides of March. Set during the last year of Caesar's life, and a great example of literary ventriloquism as Wilder presents his story via letters, diary excerpts and later reportings by all the usual players of that time, Caesar, Cicero, Clodia Pulcher, Brutus, etc. Being a certified author of the literary canon, he takes some crucial liberties with dates in order have a few people of the late Republic be still alive who simply weren't (to wit, Clodius and Catullus, oh, and Caesar's aunt Julia, the one who was married to Marius) and we don't mind, because he manages to do that rare thing, give every letter writer an individual voice. (First person narration that sounds different from the author is tough. Multiple first person narration, all different from each other, and among those Cicero, whose actual letters we have to compare? Awesome.

Colleen McCullough: The First Man of Rome. Also the first two sequels, up to Fortune's Favourites. Then her saga gets a) too hero worshipping of Caesar, and b) loses the ability to make the individual characters come to life. But The First Man of Rome, her take on Marius and Sulla at the start of their careers, right until the moment where Marius is at his zenit and Sulla starts to come into his own, is excellent, and both men are presented with skill and sympathy, in three dimensions. Caesar is still a baby here, so McCullough's crush on him isn't a problem. (She also crushes on Sulla but that doesn't stop her from painting him in full ambiguity and with future ruthless dictator potential. Ditto Marius. Whom, not-handsome-fellow that he was, she doesn't crush upon, which benefits his characterization to no end.)

Gillian Bradshaw: The Bearkeeper's Daughterr. I like Gillian Bradshaw in general. This novel of hers takes on Theodora through the eyes of her illegitimate son Johannes. Novels about ambiguous men are sadly still far more common than novels about ambiguous women; this one is a welcome exception. Theodora, at once one of the most admired and reviled women of her time who went from actress (and, depending on whom you believe, prostitute) to Empress, is a fascinating character here; like her son, we're drawn to her, apalled by some of her deeds and impressed by others, and would like to trust her but can't.

Lindsey Davis: Silver Pigs. I do like Davis' Falco series, mysteries set in Flavian Rome, with its narrative tone a deliberate spoof of the hard boiled novel, but you notice the routine after a while. The first novel, however, remains ever so readable no matter how often you have a go at it. It even made me squee when I saw a silver pig in the British Museum on a more recent visit. (Err, that particular pig isn't a pig in the animal sense, but a... heck, read the novel.)

Stephen Saylor: Roma Sub Rosa series. Here I love the entire mystery series published so far, but my two favourite novels among it remain Catilina's Riddle (aka Saylor's take on the Catiline Conspiracy, with Catilina a fascinating and charismatic enigma; friends of slash, there is an ever so discreet and for its discretion even more erotic scene between him and Our Hero, Gordianus, here) and Murder on the Appian Way (aka Saylor takes on the death of Clodius Pulcher, another colourful Late Republic player; like its predecessor in the series, this novel features Clodia, and remember what I said about the rarity of ambiguous women? She'd be a great exception).

Lion Feuchtwanger: The Josephus Trilogy. (Josephus, The Jew of Rome, Josephus and the Emperor). Back to ambiguos men. Flavius Josephus, aka Josef Ben Matthias, has something of a bad reputation - he was one of the leaders in the Jewish war against the Romans that started under Nero, then switched sides and started to work for the general and later Emperor Vespasian. This might not have been very noble but allowed him to survive and give us both the Jewish and the Roman perspective on said war, plus various other works on the history of Israel which he later published in Rome. (Details like Herodes' dealings with Antony and Cleopatra, which Plutarch could have cared less about? All come from Josephus.) Feuchtwanger's take on Josef (as he's called throughout the trilogy), written when Feuchtwanger himself was in exile throughout the Third Reich, is at once a vivid presentation of the ancient time and a meditation on Jewish identity in (Feuchtwanger's) present.

Robert Graves: I, Claudius. Well, naturally. Often imitated, never quite matched, this takes on the story of the Julian-Claudian dynasty via the eyes of Claudius and has the inspired idea to declare Claudius' reputation as a fool and the scorn in which his handicaps (stuttering, limping) were held as the (deliberate, on his part) reason for his survival throughout all power games until he himself ascends the throne. Augustus' wife Livia (Claudius' grandmother) is one of the best villainesses in literature, all the more so because Graves lets her be both deeply intelligent and witty in addition to being murderously ruthless, and his rendition of Caligula makes all mad Emperors in films and books alike look like copycats. Oh, buy the book already or at least borrow it from a library, and while you're at it, get the BBC series as well.