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Story: 8 (A reasonably clear account of Caesar’s pre-Gallic career)
Characters: 8 (Well-written but not as memorable as Sulla)
Accuracy: 10 (Basically perfect)
I really hate the name of this novel and the next one. Caesar’s Women and Caesar? How uninspiring. I do wish she’d gone for her proposed title of Let the Dice Fly for the following one. I have no idea why this book is called Caesar’s Women. Women do factor into it, but not more regularly than in previous books. There is some truth to these titles in that Caesar is at the forefront in a way that none of the characters in the previous books were. This is Caesar’s story now, and he’s in it to win. His rise up through the political ladder is told clearly and carefully. In many ways this book is the most important of all from a narrative purpose. The alliances formed here and the fallout from these actions will motivate everything that happens in the final books. The stage is being set for Caesar’s civil war.
The book’s view of Caesar (and the rest of the First Men to one degree or another) really is that of a Nietzschean übermensch. Caesar (and the rest) is a great man full of great ability and promise. His foes are all mediocrities of one sort or another conspiring to prevent competent men from arising who might threaten their self-image as “great” men. And while this is certainly true to a degree, it ignores the destructive nature inherent to these übermenschen. Can you blame Caesar’s enemies for trying to prevent another Sulla? Another civil war with all the death and destruction that entails? And while it might be argued that this description of them is Caesar’s viewpoint (and I don’t doubt that this was how Caesar saw it) we’re never (at least so far) given any reasons for opposition to Caesar beyond personal animosity or jealousy. The book takes his side absolutely, not necessarily making him pure or anything (I think his basic personality and behavior is spot on) but making all his obstacles devoid of consequence. Maybe that will come back to bite him in future books. This is, after all, early days for him. But the two rival points of view are not really in place: that Rome needs change and this can only be done by placing a competent man in charge vs. that Rome needs to preserve her traditions and freedoms (especially aristocratic ones) against domination by a single faction. Instead it’s personal and petty, and while there was a lot of that and nobody’s motives were pure, it’s frustrating that only one side gets a genuine ideology and actual sympathy.
Regarding these übermensch, it seems odd to me that their goals don’t really matter, only their ability to reach them. Sulla’s intentions for Rome were vastly different from Caesar’s, yet both are treated in a generally positive way. Because they achieved something. That matters more than how they achieve it or even what they achieved. And that bothers me, both for the historical implications and the ethical ones. Yes, nobody turns to the Romans for views on proper moral behavior. Slavery, murder, corruption, extortion... these were all acceptable elements of Roman society and are all on display here. But there is a thesis being posed here that I find very troubling. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but I don’t believe that
The curious thing here is that while the book takes Caesar’s side like a firm partisan it doesn’t really make him very likeable. Perhaps that’s impossible. A youthful Caesar with actual emotions and stuff can be enjoyed. This Caesar has largely discarded such limitations as reflecting ill on his dignitas. A cold, emotionless Caesar, even one who has emotions but just bottles them up to preserve his public image, can never be personally appealing to moderns so fond of emotional reactions. Or, frankly, to those who had to deal with him not as a successful and generous superior but as an equal. Because Caesar can brook no equal. That’s why it’s a lot easier to sympathize with Pompey’s childishness or Crassus’ genuine concern or Cato’s insane rage and Cicero’s weakness.
Speaking of the others, it was very nice to see Pompey actually developing into more of the competent military commander recorded by history. If there was a complaint about him from the last book it was that he was too childish and immature. But here Pompey develops an unexpected (and painful) ability to learn. It really impresses me how well McCullough is able to make these characters grow and develop without ever drawing attention to the changes or feeling unnatural or unearned. It was awe-inspiring to see decayed, decrepit, wicked Sulla appear from the East and still feel like the same person as young and overpowering Sulla. And it’s the same with mature Pompey. He’s still the overemotional man thirsting for praise who we saw as a kid, but he’s learned from his failures (something that seemed impossible) and now takes his campaigns a lot more seriously. And while he will never be a political as well as military genius, he’s sat down and worked out exactly how to go about gaining and keeping political positions too (even though it was really really boring and he hated it and it sucked and was stupid). I’ll be sad to watch his fall in the next book. But who can face Caesar and win?
Crassus was the real surprise here. While we saw a bit of him in the last book (the whole Spartacus thing) we never really got to know him outside his peculation and greed. But here he comes across as a loyal friend, loving father and husband, and generally sensible man. And also very close to Caesar. I never really thought of Crassus and Caesar as good friends. Their alliance always seemed more one of convenience, as with Pompey. But it works very well here. Just from a plot perspective, Caesar needs someone who’s close to an equal with whom he can plot and exposit. And as Aurelia is sidelined (a sad but necessary consequence of growing up) and suffers from the misfortune of being a female it needs to be someone outside the family. I was never expecting to actually like Crassus, who usually comes across as one of the bogeymen of the age: a greedy, cruel plutocrat who cared for nothing but wealth and advancing his own position. His fall will likewise be sad to watch.
Finally showing up is one of my personal favorite historical figures: Publius Clodius. A wonderfully mischievous man who seems to have gotten up in the morning rubbing his hands with glee at the thought of the trouble he could cause that day. An immensely enjoyable and eccentric demagogue, my only complaint is that we hardly spend enough time on him. Most of his famous acts take place between this book and the next, which is really unfortunate.
And then we get the optimates and related allies: Cato, Cicero, Scipio, and Bibulus. As mentioned before, they all come off pretty badly. Cato is nearly perfect as the screeching, angry man of extreme virtue and little give, although his good traits (honesty, integrity, bravery) are generally ignored in favor of his hypocrisies. Cicero is weak, vacillating, easily swayed, and quite full of himself. This isn’t far off, although again it seems to focus more on his negative traits than his positive ones. Bibulus is angry and vengeful, though not for any real reason. He was humiliated by Caesar way back as a contubernis (tent-mate), but while that obviously means he’s not going to get along great with Caesar (not helped by their having to contest every magistracy at the same time) it doesn’t seem to really justify his loathing and scuttling of his own career to take Caesar down. What did he fear? We never really find out. Which sucks, because that was one thing that Scaurus was really clear about. When one man rises too high above the rest Rome cannot cope. And since Scaurus’ time, the constant rise of such men has radicalized the remaining partisans. While he could work with Marius when it suited his cause, these men would rather tear down the state than give in to Caesar. But you’d still think that would make them more not less able to articulate clear motives. Beyond the strictly personal.
Oh, and Scipio was also present. That’s probably the most that can be said of him, both in the novel and in real life.
The story here is that of Caesar’s rise. And Pompey’s personal growth of course, but mainly Caesar’s ascension through the various magistracies. As such there’s not as many dramatic events going on. Certainly there are very few wars and revolutions. This is a moment of relative peace between the chaos of Sulla’s and Caesar’s civil wars. Caesar’s early career moves (pre-proconsul of Gaul) was fairly standard even if uncommonly perfect. Most of the conflict comes from the opposition, which is fierce and unyielding. His ascension up the ladder of the cursus honorum was standard, but his ambition and behavior during his terms of office were much resented. Which leaves the novel with plenty to dramatize, even as it struggles with the fact that Caesar isn’t the main mover of events.
Characters: 8 (Well-written but not as memorable as Sulla)
Accuracy: 10 (Basically perfect)
I really hate the name of this novel and the next one. Caesar’s Women and Caesar? How uninspiring. I do wish she’d gone for her proposed title of Let the Dice Fly for the following one. I have no idea why this book is called Caesar’s Women. Women do factor into it, but not more regularly than in previous books. There is some truth to these titles in that Caesar is at the forefront in a way that none of the characters in the previous books were. This is Caesar’s story now, and he’s in it to win. His rise up through the political ladder is told clearly and carefully. In many ways this book is the most important of all from a narrative purpose. The alliances formed here and the fallout from these actions will motivate everything that happens in the final books. The stage is being set for Caesar’s civil war.
The book’s view of Caesar (and the rest of the First Men to one degree or another) really is that of a Nietzschean übermensch. Caesar (and the rest) is a great man full of great ability and promise. His foes are all mediocrities of one sort or another conspiring to prevent competent men from arising who might threaten their self-image as “great” men. And while this is certainly true to a degree, it ignores the destructive nature inherent to these übermenschen. Can you blame Caesar’s enemies for trying to prevent another Sulla? Another civil war with all the death and destruction that entails? And while it might be argued that this description of them is Caesar’s viewpoint (and I don’t doubt that this was how Caesar saw it) we’re never (at least so far) given any reasons for opposition to Caesar beyond personal animosity or jealousy. The book takes his side absolutely, not necessarily making him pure or anything (I think his basic personality and behavior is spot on) but making all his obstacles devoid of consequence. Maybe that will come back to bite him in future books. This is, after all, early days for him. But the two rival points of view are not really in place: that Rome needs change and this can only be done by placing a competent man in charge vs. that Rome needs to preserve her traditions and freedoms (especially aristocratic ones) against domination by a single faction. Instead it’s personal and petty, and while there was a lot of that and nobody’s motives were pure, it’s frustrating that only one side gets a genuine ideology and actual sympathy.
Regarding these übermensch, it seems odd to me that their goals don’t really matter, only their ability to reach them. Sulla’s intentions for Rome were vastly different from Caesar’s, yet both are treated in a generally positive way. Because they achieved something. That matters more than how they achieve it or even what they achieved. And that bothers me, both for the historical implications and the ethical ones. Yes, nobody turns to the Romans for views on proper moral behavior. Slavery, murder, corruption, extortion... these were all acceptable elements of Roman society and are all on display here. But there is a thesis being posed here that I find very troubling. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but I don’t believe that
The curious thing here is that while the book takes Caesar’s side like a firm partisan it doesn’t really make him very likeable. Perhaps that’s impossible. A youthful Caesar with actual emotions and stuff can be enjoyed. This Caesar has largely discarded such limitations as reflecting ill on his dignitas. A cold, emotionless Caesar, even one who has emotions but just bottles them up to preserve his public image, can never be personally appealing to moderns so fond of emotional reactions. Or, frankly, to those who had to deal with him not as a successful and generous superior but as an equal. Because Caesar can brook no equal. That’s why it’s a lot easier to sympathize with Pompey’s childishness or Crassus’ genuine concern or Cato’s insane rage and Cicero’s weakness.
Speaking of the others, it was very nice to see Pompey actually developing into more of the competent military commander recorded by history. If there was a complaint about him from the last book it was that he was too childish and immature. But here Pompey develops an unexpected (and painful) ability to learn. It really impresses me how well McCullough is able to make these characters grow and develop without ever drawing attention to the changes or feeling unnatural or unearned. It was awe-inspiring to see decayed, decrepit, wicked Sulla appear from the East and still feel like the same person as young and overpowering Sulla. And it’s the same with mature Pompey. He’s still the overemotional man thirsting for praise who we saw as a kid, but he’s learned from his failures (something that seemed impossible) and now takes his campaigns a lot more seriously. And while he will never be a political as well as military genius, he’s sat down and worked out exactly how to go about gaining and keeping political positions too (even though it was really really boring and he hated it and it sucked and was stupid). I’ll be sad to watch his fall in the next book. But who can face Caesar and win?
Crassus was the real surprise here. While we saw a bit of him in the last book (the whole Spartacus thing) we never really got to know him outside his peculation and greed. But here he comes across as a loyal friend, loving father and husband, and generally sensible man. And also very close to Caesar. I never really thought of Crassus and Caesar as good friends. Their alliance always seemed more one of convenience, as with Pompey. But it works very well here. Just from a plot perspective, Caesar needs someone who’s close to an equal with whom he can plot and exposit. And as Aurelia is sidelined (a sad but necessary consequence of growing up) and suffers from the misfortune of being a female it needs to be someone outside the family. I was never expecting to actually like Crassus, who usually comes across as one of the bogeymen of the age: a greedy, cruel plutocrat who cared for nothing but wealth and advancing his own position. His fall will likewise be sad to watch.
Finally showing up is one of my personal favorite historical figures: Publius Clodius. A wonderfully mischievous man who seems to have gotten up in the morning rubbing his hands with glee at the thought of the trouble he could cause that day. An immensely enjoyable and eccentric demagogue, my only complaint is that we hardly spend enough time on him. Most of his famous acts take place between this book and the next, which is really unfortunate.
And then we get the optimates and related allies: Cato, Cicero, Scipio, and Bibulus. As mentioned before, they all come off pretty badly. Cato is nearly perfect as the screeching, angry man of extreme virtue and little give, although his good traits (honesty, integrity, bravery) are generally ignored in favor of his hypocrisies. Cicero is weak, vacillating, easily swayed, and quite full of himself. This isn’t far off, although again it seems to focus more on his negative traits than his positive ones. Bibulus is angry and vengeful, though not for any real reason. He was humiliated by Caesar way back as a contubernis (tent-mate), but while that obviously means he’s not going to get along great with Caesar (not helped by their having to contest every magistracy at the same time) it doesn’t seem to really justify his loathing and scuttling of his own career to take Caesar down. What did he fear? We never really find out. Which sucks, because that was one thing that Scaurus was really clear about. When one man rises too high above the rest Rome cannot cope. And since Scaurus’ time, the constant rise of such men has radicalized the remaining partisans. While he could work with Marius when it suited his cause, these men would rather tear down the state than give in to Caesar. But you’d still think that would make them more not less able to articulate clear motives. Beyond the strictly personal.
Oh, and Scipio was also present. That’s probably the most that can be said of him, both in the novel and in real life.
The story here is that of Caesar’s rise. And Pompey’s personal growth of course, but mainly Caesar’s ascension through the various magistracies. As such there’s not as many dramatic events going on. Certainly there are very few wars and revolutions. This is a moment of relative peace between the chaos of Sulla’s and Caesar’s civil wars. Caesar’s early career moves (pre-proconsul of Gaul) was fairly standard even if uncommonly perfect. Most of the conflict comes from the opposition, which is fierce and unyielding. His ascension up the ladder of the cursus honorum was standard, but his ambition and behavior during his terms of office were much resented. Which leaves the novel with plenty to dramatize, even as it struggles with the fact that Caesar isn’t the main mover of events.
