By Paul Carrier
With this eighth installment in Lindsey Davis’ Falco mystery series, “private informer” Marcus Didius Falco has yet to crisscross the full length and breadth of the Roman Empire. But he’s getting closer.
Having previously meandered through Italy, as well as Britannia, Germania and the eastern fringes of the Emperor Vespasian’s domain, Falco finds himself traveling to the south of Spain on imperial business in A Dying Light in Corduba.
Falco heads to Hispania Baetica in 73 A.D. after he attends a Roman banquet that has deadly consequences. Sponsored by the Society of Olive Oil Producers of Baetica, the dinner seems innocuous enough until the guests, including the emperor’s chief spy and one of his agents, take their leave.
The spymaster, Anacrites, is mugged and left for dead on his way back to the imperial palace, and Valentinus, a spy employed by Anacrites, is murdered. A group of visiting Baeticans quickly disappear after the attacks, to make a suspiciously hurried exit to Hispania.
The assaults seem to be linked to Anacrites’ investigation of a scheme to fix olive-oil prices in Baetica, possibly in collusion with a powerful member of the Roman Senate. Artificially inflated prices would be devastating to the empire, which has multiple uses for olive oil and is heavily dependent on imports from Hispania and elsewhere.
Having previously meandered through Italy, as well as Britannia, Germania and the eastern fringes of the Emperor Vespasian’s domain, Falco finds himself traveling to the south of Spain on imperial business in A Dying Light in Corduba.
Falco heads to Hispania Baetica in 73 A.D. after he attends a Roman banquet that has deadly consequences. Sponsored by the Society of Olive Oil Producers of Baetica, the dinner seems innocuous enough until the guests, including the emperor’s chief spy and one of his agents, take their leave.
The spymaster, Anacrites, is mugged and left for dead on his way back to the imperial palace, and Valentinus, a spy employed by Anacrites, is murdered. A group of visiting Baeticans quickly disappear after the attacks, to make a suspiciously hurried exit to Hispania.
The assaults seem to be linked to Anacrites’ investigation of a scheme to fix olive-oil prices in Baetica, possibly in collusion with a powerful member of the Roman Senate. Artificially inflated prices would be devastating to the empire, which has multiple uses for olive oil and is heavily dependent on imports from Hispania and elsewhere.
Accompanied by his pregnant girlfriend, Helena Justina, and their mutt Nux, Falco visits Hispania to figure out who wants to manipulate the oil market and to find Valentinus' killer, who is presumed to be in league with the oil magnates and their Roman associates. Once there, he learns that suspects abound and that he is not especially welcome in some quarters.
The Falco series offers three pleasant diversions, including the obvious appeal of learning, once Falco sets out in pursuit of evildoers, who did what and why. Davis also packs her novels with an impressive amount of detail about imperial Rome. (Where else are you likely to encounter a thermopolium?) In two lengthy but readable paragraphs, Davis recaps Hispania's role in the political instability that preceded Vespasian’s rise to power in 69 A.D.
Perhaps best of all, the novels in this series are unfailingly funny, thanks in large part to the fact that Falco is a wisecracking cynic.
“Half the diners worked in government and the rest were in commerce,” Falco observes at the oil producers banquet, so “unpleasant odors were everywhere.”
Spotting a woman who is swathed in a full-length cloak, Falco tells the reader that he likes a woman who is “well wrapped up” because “it’s good to ponder what she’s hiding and why she wants to keep the goodies to herself.” Another woman’s elaborate coiffure is piled so high that it “looked as if she was keeping three white mice and her dowry in it.”
I do have a minor quibble, but I think this problem, such as it is, comes with the territory when a series is set in ancient Rome. Sorting out the profusion of cumbersome Roman names - A. Camillus Aelianus, Q. Camillus Justinus, Quinctius Attractus, T. Quinctius Quadratus - can be taxing, especially when it involves relatives with similar names. Fortunately, Davis has included a handy list of characters, complete with terse, witty descriptions of each one. And she does simplify things somewhat by giving three of the less savory fellows handy nicknames: Spunky, Dotty and Ferret.
The killer's identity is hinted at early on, so it provides no surprises once it is confirmed. But that still leaves other questions that Davis finally answers as the book draws to a close. Who hired the assailant? Who killed a prominent young man in Hispania while Falco was snooping around there? And will the man who was behind it all be held accountable for his crimes?
The Falco series offers three pleasant diversions, including the obvious appeal of learning, once Falco sets out in pursuit of evildoers, who did what and why. Davis also packs her novels with an impressive amount of detail about imperial Rome. (Where else are you likely to encounter a thermopolium?) In two lengthy but readable paragraphs, Davis recaps Hispania's role in the political instability that preceded Vespasian’s rise to power in 69 A.D.
Perhaps best of all, the novels in this series are unfailingly funny, thanks in large part to the fact that Falco is a wisecracking cynic.
“Half the diners worked in government and the rest were in commerce,” Falco observes at the oil producers banquet, so “unpleasant odors were everywhere.”
Spotting a woman who is swathed in a full-length cloak, Falco tells the reader that he likes a woman who is “well wrapped up” because “it’s good to ponder what she’s hiding and why she wants to keep the goodies to herself.” Another woman’s elaborate coiffure is piled so high that it “looked as if she was keeping three white mice and her dowry in it.”
I do have a minor quibble, but I think this problem, such as it is, comes with the territory when a series is set in ancient Rome. Sorting out the profusion of cumbersome Roman names - A. Camillus Aelianus, Q. Camillus Justinus, Quinctius Attractus, T. Quinctius Quadratus - can be taxing, especially when it involves relatives with similar names. Fortunately, Davis has included a handy list of characters, complete with terse, witty descriptions of each one. And she does simplify things somewhat by giving three of the less savory fellows handy nicknames: Spunky, Dotty and Ferret.
The killer's identity is hinted at early on, so it provides no surprises once it is confirmed. But that still leaves other questions that Davis finally answers as the book draws to a close. Who hired the assailant? Who killed a prominent young man in Hispania while Falco was snooping around there? And will the man who was behind it all be held accountable for his crimes?
