The Day of Atonement, by David Liss (2014)

Each new novel by David Liss is eagerly anticipated by fans of clever and fast-paced plotting that nevertheless refuses to sacrifice historical accuracy. The Day of Atonement is their reward. This tale continues the Liss mastery of creatively-evolving plots with surprising twists and turns, even when readers already know the historical climax.

Set mostly in Lisbon, Portugal, in the year 1755, the curtain opens as our protagonist flashes back ten years to when, as 13-year-old Lisbon-born "New Christian" Sebastiao Raposa, he was smuggled to London to escape the Inquisition that took his parents. He returns as English merchant-adventurer Sebastian Foxx, bent on revenge.    

The five criteria:

1. Did the novel inspire me to further historical research?

Yes. I hadn't realized that the terrors of the Inquisition lasted so much longer in Portugal than in neighboring Spain. Neither had I heard of the devastating 1755 earthquake and tsunami that destroyed Lisbon.

Liss once again does a nice job of connecting Jewish religious beliefs and practices to the plot. The observance referred to in the title, The Day of Atonement, is known more commonly by Americans as Yom Kippur. The meaning of the central concept, in Foxx's mind, evolves during the story along with his self-discovery and maturing understanding of what seemed at first to be a straightforward mission.
   Score = 5

2. Did the novel include enough history to make it an interesting historical story?

Yes, although not as much as it might have. Although the setting was historical, along with some general activities like the Inquisition and the England-Portugal trade, more specific historical events and characters were in short supply.

That's not always a bad thing, however. Many historical novels are dragged down by the author's noble attempt to cram in a lot of history. A recent lesson to me on how that can happen was Master and God, by Lindsey Davis.
   Score = 4

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Yes, as far as I can tell. Descriptions of historical settings are generally consistent with what I've read elsewhere. An accurate picture of pre-earthquake Lisbon is problematic, but Liss seems to have put a lot of research into that area. One thing I really missed was a map of the city which, even if partly fictional, would have helped the reader to follow the movements that are so important to the story.
   Score = 4

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

There aren't many, so accuracy is not much of a concern. For example, the historical "Count of Oeiras" is not actually a character but is mentioned in passing toward the end of the story. Liss doesn't try, however, to be biographical, so the lack of historical characters is not a criticism. Accuracy is the criterion: is it more accurate to fictionalize historical individuals or to leave them out altogether? Still, inclusion of a few historical names is fun, even if only in non-speaking roles.
   Score = 4

5. Were the fictional or fictionalized plot and characters plausible?

Mostly. Some of the characters' dialog and/or inner soliloquy, along with some of the actions those thoughts led to, made me ask: "Seriously?" Although it's common novelistic practice to imbue archaic characters with modern ideas, historical novelists can also get away with a lot of questionable thinking by characters. Would you expect the rantings of an 18th-century priest of the Inquisition to make sense?
   Score = 4

Master and God, by Lindsey Davis (2012)

Fans of "light" historical fiction will recognize the name Lindsey Davis as the British author of the "Falco" series of historical murder mysteries set in ancient Rome. The adventures of protagonist Marcus Didius Falco are always entertaining and absorbing.

Master and God is a more ambitious effort, though sharing some character and plot elements with the Falco novels. Set in the time of the Emperor Domitian (81-96 AD), the protagonist is a fictional ex-legionary named Gaius Vinius Clodianus. His fortunes rise along with those of the younger brother of the Emperor Titus, who became the third and last of the Flavian emperors.   

As the novel opens, Clodianus is a non-com in the vigiles: the loosely-organized neighborhood police force of Rome. Through skill and luck, he rises to become a trusted officer of the Praetorian Guard, charged with accompanying and protecting the Emperor. As such, Clodianus is well-placed to witness and participate in the rise and fall of Domitian. 

The complicated and egalitarian relationship between Clodianus, the stereotypical clueless male, and Lucilla, the self-made successful hairdresser to the imperial family, is a lot of fun - similar to that of Falco and Helena.

The five criteria:

1. Did the novel inspire me to further historical research?

Yes. Historians, both contemporary and modern, have had mixed opinions about Domitian. In many ways, his reign was a very successful one for the Roman Empire, yet his cautious foreign policy and heavy-handed domestic policies earned him few admirers. As a result, historical novelists have been drawn to the more flamboyant figures of the late Republic and first Emperors. With this novel, Davis filled a gap in ancient Roman fiction. The Dacian campaigns, in particular, were an interesting and previously unfamiliar subject to me.   
Score = 5

2. Did the novel include enough history to make it an interesting historical story?

Yes. I hesitate to say this but, if anything, there's too much history. Davis seemed to sense that many readers would be unfamiliar with Domitian's reign and the historical figures of the time, and therefore perhaps tried too hard to include lots of historical background setup and detail. That effort results - especially early on -  in a tone that sometimes borders on pedantic. Missing is the easy familiarity of the Falco novels, where the history seems less forced. The story flows better as it progresses, once the stage is set.
Score = 4

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Mostly. Davis is a thorough researcher and scrupulous about accuracy. Chronology and descriptions of events never departed from authoritative sources. Inclusion of a closing "Author's Note" is always a nice touch.

One large quibble: Davis departs from most sources in her explanation of Roman names. The "praenomen, nomen, cognomen" convention is fairly well understood, but Davis invented a different rationale in Master and God.
Score = 3

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

Yes. As noted, contemporary sources varied widely in their assessments of Domitian, and his alienation of the Senate resulted in derogatory biographies by Tacitus and Suetonius. Davis used those portrayals to construct her fictionalized Domitian as insecure and suspicious, tending toward paranoia later on. She resisted the temptation, however, to paint a one-dimensional negative portrait of a deranged evil tyrant. Other historical characters of the time are known largely through their own writings, which can be problematic. The satirical poets Juvenal and Martial have cameos, but could perhaps have been used to greater effect.

A number of those involved in Domitian's assassination are included as characters (thanks to the detailed account of Suetonius). A number of the imperial women also have roles, because of Lucilla's contact with them.
Score = 4

5. Were the fictional or fictionalized plot and characters plausible?

Yes. Like Falco, Clodianus hovers near the boundaries of stereotype, but Davis resists the temptation to ever let him become a total macho jerk and/or a total blockhead. Lucilla is perhaps more thoroughly liberated than is plausible for that time, but it works. Her thinking certainly confounds Clodianus, who is easily confused anyway where women are concerned.

Davis' fictionalized historical Romans lack the devious depth of Graves - mainly because they're not central characters - but come across as plausibly real people.
Score = 4

Emperor (series), by Conn Iggulden

As mentioned in my review of Conn Iggulden's Wars of the Roses: Stormbird, it was the first of his many novels I've read. Having enjoyed Stormbird, I looked for other books by Iggulden and found the Emperor series, based on the life of Julius Caesar. Always up for novels based in ancient Rome, I was pleased to discover a series not yet read. First in the series is The Gates of Rome (2003), followed by four sequels.

Unfortunately, I was hugely disappointed. I found it impossible to enjoy novels filled with familiar historical characters and events, yet exhibiting such blatant disregard for historical accuracy. Even the author's concluding "Historical Note" section, where novelists usually confess their sins regarding historical accuracy, was a letdown. No mention is made of any of the many, obvious, egregious departures from known history.

No thorough fact-check will be attempted here, but one example will serve to illustrate the level of historical abuse. Dates are well documented for the major events in the life both of Julius Caesar and his great-nephew Octavian, who eventually succeeded him as Caesar Augustus. Julius was praetor in Spain just before his first election as Consul in 60 BC. Only three years old in Caesar's consular year, the "young man" Octavian of these novels becomes one of Caesar's trusted lieutenants during the Spanish military campaigns.

These were Iggulden's first efforts at historical fiction, so I can at least say that he's come a long way since then, and Stormbird was a tremendous improvement.
If you're at all interested in historically-accurate fictionalized treatments of Julius Caesar and his times, stay far away from these novels. Read Colleen McCullough instead.