By Paul Carrier
What happens if you take that 20th-century staple of crime fiction, the hard-boiled detective, and transport him back to 1st-century Rome? Dress Philip Marlowe in a toga (or a tunic) and he comes to life as Marcus Didius Falco, a “private informer” who tackles odd jobs for the emperor Vespasian.
In Shadows in Bronze, the second entry in Lindsey Davis’ long-running series of mysteries, Falco finds himself entangled in the mop up that follows a failed bid to depose Vespesian.
It's 71 A.D. and the emperor, in office for only two years, seeks to round up the conspirators. But someone is killing them off one by one, or trying to, and not necessarily at Vespasian’s behest.
A green-cloaked man who keeps turning up at the scene of the murders - successful or attempted - is a prime suspect. The killer seems to be after Falco as well, even as Falco tries to fulfill the emperor’s orders to warn possible victims and lure them back to Rome.
The stakes are high enough with a serial killer on the loose, but the fate of the empire itself hangs in the balance when the mysterious assassin is linked to a plot to seize a fleet carrying lifesaving grain shipments from Egypt to Rome. If they succeed, the treasonous schemers will have the leverage they need to oust Vespasian and install one of their own as emperor.
Davis’ characters are well-rounded and believable, her knowledge of the period is strong, and the brisk plot is appealingly complex. An army veteran who is short of cash, Falco is in love with a senator’s daughter and disgruntled by the fact that his imperial ties violate his republican principles. He is cynical, jaded and tough, but also witty and conscientious.
In fact, there is much to like about the central characters in this tale. Vespesian comes across as a plainspoken and shrewd man who is utterly devoid of pretense. Lucius Pretonius Longus, captain of the Aventine Watch and Falco’s best friend, is a cool-headed, street-smart cop with a stable home life. And Helena Justina, Falco’s erstwhile lover, is the beautiful, high-minded ex-wife of one of the conspirators.
Shadows in Bronze nicely blends the personal and the professional, as Falco goes about the emperor’s business while simultaneously reigniting his love affair with Justina, enjoying the camaraderie of Longus’ company, showing the ropes to his angst-ridden nephew Larius and fending off meddlesome relatives, including his busybody of a mother.
When Larius confesses that his mother has reprimanded him for reading poetry, for example, Falco barks with characteristic sarcasm: “What was it - rude verses from Catullus? Men with big noses, vindictive whores in the Forum, grubby lovers chomping at each others’ private parts? Believe me, there’s more pleasure, and much better nourishment, in a decent lunch of goat’s cheese and bread rolls.”
Whether readers will enjoy Shadows in Bronze depends on how receptive they are to characters bringing a 20th-century sensibility to Ancient Rome. Falco narrates Shadows in Bronze in a wise-guy style. Thanks to the staccato rhythm of the dialogue, everyone sounds a bit like Guy Noir, the fictional detective on public radio’s A Prairie Home Companion.
“I had two rooms, each a bare eight foot square,” Falco tells us of his “filthy garret” on the sixth floor of a decrepit building in a Roman slum. “I paid extra for a rocky balcony but my landlord Smaractus allowed me a discount in the form of natural daylight through a hole in the roof (plus free access to water, whenever it rained).” The tiny apartment allows Falco to entertain up to four people at a time, he says, “or five when one was a girl who would sit on my lap.”
As such excerpts show, there is a keen sense of humor on display in these pages. Much of it is sardonic, but bits of it are broad, as when Nero the ox decides he’s in love with a donkey named Ned, and tries to consummate the relationship.
In Shadows in Bronze, the second entry in Lindsey Davis’ long-running series of mysteries, Falco finds himself entangled in the mop up that follows a failed bid to depose Vespesian.
It's 71 A.D. and the emperor, in office for only two years, seeks to round up the conspirators. But someone is killing them off one by one, or trying to, and not necessarily at Vespasian’s behest.
A green-cloaked man who keeps turning up at the scene of the murders - successful or attempted - is a prime suspect. The killer seems to be after Falco as well, even as Falco tries to fulfill the emperor’s orders to warn possible victims and lure them back to Rome.
The stakes are high enough with a serial killer on the loose, but the fate of the empire itself hangs in the balance when the mysterious assassin is linked to a plot to seize a fleet carrying lifesaving grain shipments from Egypt to Rome. If they succeed, the treasonous schemers will have the leverage they need to oust Vespasian and install one of their own as emperor.
Davis’ characters are well-rounded and believable, her knowledge of the period is strong, and the brisk plot is appealingly complex. An army veteran who is short of cash, Falco is in love with a senator’s daughter and disgruntled by the fact that his imperial ties violate his republican principles. He is cynical, jaded and tough, but also witty and conscientious.
In fact, there is much to like about the central characters in this tale. Vespesian comes across as a plainspoken and shrewd man who is utterly devoid of pretense. Lucius Pretonius Longus, captain of the Aventine Watch and Falco’s best friend, is a cool-headed, street-smart cop with a stable home life. And Helena Justina, Falco’s erstwhile lover, is the beautiful, high-minded ex-wife of one of the conspirators.
Shadows in Bronze nicely blends the personal and the professional, as Falco goes about the emperor’s business while simultaneously reigniting his love affair with Justina, enjoying the camaraderie of Longus’ company, showing the ropes to his angst-ridden nephew Larius and fending off meddlesome relatives, including his busybody of a mother.
When Larius confesses that his mother has reprimanded him for reading poetry, for example, Falco barks with characteristic sarcasm: “What was it - rude verses from Catullus? Men with big noses, vindictive whores in the Forum, grubby lovers chomping at each others’ private parts? Believe me, there’s more pleasure, and much better nourishment, in a decent lunch of goat’s cheese and bread rolls.”
Whether readers will enjoy Shadows in Bronze depends on how receptive they are to characters bringing a 20th-century sensibility to Ancient Rome. Falco narrates Shadows in Bronze in a wise-guy style. Thanks to the staccato rhythm of the dialogue, everyone sounds a bit like Guy Noir, the fictional detective on public radio’s A Prairie Home Companion.
“I had two rooms, each a bare eight foot square,” Falco tells us of his “filthy garret” on the sixth floor of a decrepit building in a Roman slum. “I paid extra for a rocky balcony but my landlord Smaractus allowed me a discount in the form of natural daylight through a hole in the roof (plus free access to water, whenever it rained).” The tiny apartment allows Falco to entertain up to four people at a time, he says, “or five when one was a girl who would sit on my lap.”
As such excerpts show, there is a keen sense of humor on display in these pages. Much of it is sardonic, but bits of it are broad, as when Nero the ox decides he’s in love with a donkey named Ned, and tries to consummate the relationship.
