Rome: The Art Of War ~ M.C. Scott

I finished this book nearly two weeks ago and tried to write this review three other times, with a glaring lack of success (I would like to clarify that this has naught to do with the author, but with my inability to articulate what I wanted to say). I could not figure out why until an inspirational walk for an elusive Magnum White in the pouring rain. Though what any of these have to do with the world Scott has created is certainly a mystery.



The reader quickly realises that this book is set up as responses to an series of, dare I say, interrogations conducted by Hypathia. It takes a bit longer to realise that the reason for these interviews is that something terrible or catastrophic has occurred, but nothing said helps to clarify 'what'. Then it begins to dawn on the reader that Pantera is not one of those being questioned. Thus my first experience of reader's anxiety. Then the rational me remembers that he is never the narrator, but still, something is prickling...

Once again, Scott brilliantly weaves a story of loyalty and betrayal, honesty and corruption, the rise and fall of emperors as well as spies, murder and mayhem in a Rome still nervous of flames. The work needing to be done to ensure Vespasian's Emperorship in the year of 4 Emperors is so convoluted that only someone with Pantera's skills could even attempt it. That someone is foiling his every move only serves to demonstrate just how deep the well and long the reach of those willing to help him.

The characters introduced in this instalment of the Rome series are just as colourful, obstreperous and dangerous as any the author has previously presented. Faulty as every other human, they all eventually come to realise the truth even when too late and do what they can to ensure success for the cause. And while this is set during the Roman Empire, Scott has enlisted, or perhaps they bullied their way in, (she would have to clarify) the ancient world's version of Doyle's Baker Street Irregulars, Sayers's gift of tossing around herrings of the crimson persuasion with the odd Christie bluff, with the urgency of a 21st century Bond. Truly mystery and espionage at its best.


I nearly forgot the necessary declaration: I was given a copy of the book in exchange of an honesty review.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

Conspiracies Of Rome ~ Richard Blake

Some periods in history are rarely represented within the realm of historical fiction, in large part because there is little known historically. However, as time passes and archaeologists, anthropologists, historians and, more often than not, nature walkers stumble onto finds or information that had been lost. However, in having little information about a particular period, a creative author can fill the gap. Without definitive information, the author can afford to take liberties that would be impossible for stories say, within the rather more well documented Tudor period. Why more authors don't take this opportunity is, quite frankly a mystery to me.



Seventh century Rome is one of those rarely written about periods in history and historical fiction, but Richard Blake takes a crack at it, setting his Saxon Aelric up against the fledgling papacy within the crumbling walls of a dying empire and an aristocracy fighting for its life. Struggling with some of the ramifications of his banishment from Britain, Aelric finds that learning to trust others in a strange and, in his eyes, exotic land, is one of the few skills he does not possess. What Rome does offer him is unparalleled access to knowledge through the written word.

Blake teaches us many things through this book. How Rome slowly fell apart, including its architecture, politics, social class system and religion, while demonstrating the rise of the Church and how it became so powerful. This is also a period we know little about, but we do know that knowledge existed. Many powerful individuals had collected works from the philosophers, historians and ancient civilizations. We also know that due to the many conflicts at the ensuing years (and some previous years), many of these locales of knowledge were destroyed - whether intentionally or not is still up for debate. Ultimately, it was the Church and its keen interest in everyone following from the same 'book' as it were, along with men thirsting for knowledge, such as Aelric, who saved the few works we still have (i.e. Plato, Caesar, Ptolemy etc...). This contrast of the importance of preserving books as buildings are neglected is very well elucidated in this book. The vivid descriptions captivate and suddenly twenty pages have gone by.

The author is very good a making the reader feel as though she is there, in that moment, in that very spot, seeing exactly what Aelric sees or hears. This isn't to say that there aren't any bumps in the story. Aelric's age seems a bit controversial to me. While I understand the need to 'grow up fast' in a time of conflict and insecurity, one must also consider whether there has been enough time to have done all these things. However, if one can suspend disbelief for a bit about the age issue, then the rest of the story is quite good and I'm looking forward to reading the second book of the series.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

Silk Road ~ Colin Falconer

I've known that there was such a thing as a silk road in the medieval period and that it had a great deal to do with trade. I even referred to it in a short essay on Petra written in my second year at Uni. What I didn't realise was how extensive it was, nor had I considered how difficult the terrain might be and that bandits would take advantage of the weary and unsuspecting; and probably the suspecting too. Though, I admit, that I should have considered banditry as any sort of road meant for trade or the delivery of goods is known to have them. What exactly I had imagined the Silk Road to be was something far less daunting and much shorter. This distance perception issue occurs during my own travels, so I should have known better.



In addition to my inattention to detail regarding the Silk Road, I am woefully ignorant of Asian Culture, particularly anything about the Mongols. I have heard of a little about the Genghis Khan's formidable an empire and virility, and that his grandson, Kubalai was a slightly less impressive leader. I knew nothing of the woman Khutelun who appears as the female protagonist in Falconer's novel. Charged with ensuring that the Dominican monk William and his reluctant travel partner, a Templar answering Josseran, get to the Mongol capital where a new Khan of Khans is to be selected, she learns of Western ways while teaching her companions about those of her people.

William is scandalised by just about everything while Josseran questions his faith on a journey lasting four times longer than anticipated. Each of these characters succumb to self-analysis while facing temptation and given opportunities for redemption. Each arrives at what is needed to fulfil or improve his or her life by way of questioning the known and unknown. This is where the author excels.

With a great economy of words, Falconer is able to transmit description and emotion with a pace that is sometimes quite quick and at other times with a sluggishness that emulates travel even today. A lot of hurry up and wait. As a result, he is able to fit a 1100 page novel into half that. I enjoy this style of writing. I am reminded of Martin Millar (who does not write historical fiction) believes that chapters should have more than 5 pages. While Falconer did not always keep to Martin's five page limit, he certainly kept to its spirit. The only criticism I have about this is that I often felt as though the story had an aloofness, like it was too timid to reveal itself all the time. I would like to read another of Falconer's books to see if this sense of distance was a product of this story and that he normally allows the reader 'in'.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

Rome: The Eagle Of The Twelfth ~ M.C. Scott

At this point, I suspect it is no secret that I'm thoroughly captivated by this series and its characters. In order to continue what is going on with Pantera and his lot, the author needed to take a step back and come at those beloved characters from a different angle. Thus enters Demalion of Macedon, the young idealist Roman soldier and his adventures.



I don't know if it's cool to cry while reading, especially when the characters have resolved not to when performing a death ritual. Perhaps it is permissible on their behalf? I hope so. I cried a few times reading this book, and I would like to immediately clarify, that while I'm no toughie, I'm not generally considered whimpy either. The same scene written by anyone else probably would not have affected me in the same way. This is just Scott's gift. The reader becomes so deeply drawn into the characters' lives that she cannot extract herself fast enough for emotional moments. This isn't to say that the author drops an unexpected bomb. It's more a case of being enveloped by literary quicksand; once in there is no way out unless someone (or something) pulls you back to the twenty-first century.

There is magic in this book. No, that is wrong; it is the book that is magic. The characters are developed in such a way that even those who are despicable are liked for their sheer un-likeability (yes, as of today this is a word), but most of all it is Demalion whom the reader will connect with the most, and rightly so. The growth of his character, his aptitude for battle strategy and skills in stealth are a constant reminders of Pantera and the larger story being told.

I don't know if it is intentional, but I did find this work a modern allegory of the plethora of post-9/11 battle-memoirs: the incompetence of leadership, brilliant young warriors with a conscience, one sensible leader brought down by another for want of power. However, that should not detract readers as it is not heavily so, nor is it explicit.

Ultimately, Scott has me craving more, and wishing that she never stops writing.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.

The Mosaic Crimes - Giulio Leoni

I admit that I know virtually nothing about the Renaissance, even less about the people who became famous because of their talents, skills, philosophies or discoveries. I do know it was a period of where the 'known' was being questioned even in, possibly because of, strong establishments governing with iron fists, such as the Catholic Church and the Inquisition. Dante Alighieri emerged from Florence, the hub of enlightenment, apparently for various reasons, but I only knew of him because of The (Divine) Comedy. Not because I had the wisdom to read such an illustrious text, but because my youngest brother gave me his copy of Inferno, along with whatever books he had left when he decided to clear across the country. Still after ten years of ownership, I have yet to crack it open.



I've owned this book almost as long as Inferno but was unable to fit it in until recently. I had heard wonderful things about this series from my Italian friends. Two important things to be clear about this book: it is a translation from Italian, and it is actually the second book in the series. The first was, to my knowledge, never translated into English. The translation felt very stilted to me. There were terms used which are accurate direct translations but did not work as well as another word might have. They were not necessarily archaic words, rather passé expressions. As a result I felt I had to work a bit to get at what was really being said. The other problem with the translation is that it assumes that even though the text is in English, the reader should have some knowledge of Italian expressions or turns of phrase. The reader becomes lost in trying to work out what is being said. At least I was.

As the second book in the series other features are missing, such as the protagonist's growth. Dante is already an established personage, but seeing him for the first time in this book is jarring. I did not expect him to be an angry, slightly vile, egotistical and violent man. His sense of superiority and aggression are not what I expected of the little that I know of the man. Which made me wonder if one must be familiar with his work to truly understand the characterisation. Only someone who is familiar with his works and this book would be able to answer that.

The mystery itself has a lot to offer, but it gets mired in Dante's character, his ego, and the conflict between the Ghibellines and the Guelphs. Yeah, I had to research this too. Probably, a great deal of knowledge about 14th century Italy, especially Florence wouldn't come amiss for any future readers. I've never thought this about a translation before, but I expect that if you can read Italian, you would be better off getting this novel in its original language for the best effect. Which is a real shame because I do think this should be a cracking story in any language.

Review originally appeared on the now defunct Paternoster Row Legacy blog.