Circe (2018) and Lavinia (2008)

Over the past couple of years, I've been filling gaps in my classical education; reading/rereading Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, Virgil's Aeneid, and Dante's Inferno. Those readings brought to my attention two novels based on characters created by Homer and Virgil. 

We can't properly label either of these as "historical" fiction, but the Homeric tales did purport to be at least based on historical events, and Virgil expanded on Homer's "history" to create a quasi-historical founding story for Rome.  

Circe, authored by Madeline Miller and published in 2018, is written as an autobiographical soliloquy by the island-dwelling enchantress from The Odyssey. Through Miller's excellent writing, Circe reflects on her encounter with Odysseus, their years together, and her later life.

Lavinia, written by Ursula Le Guin and published in 2008, breathes life into a very minor female character from The Aeneid. Le Guin employed a bit of the post-modern style, as Lavinia acknowledges to the reader that she only exists as a name mentioned briefly by Virgil, as the Latin princess who married the Trojan Aeneas and with him founded a line that had become Imperial Rome by the time Virgil wrote his epic poem.

The Twelfth Enchantment (2011)

I was delighted to find The Twelfth Enchantment, by one of my favorite historical fiction writers, David Liss - don't know how I missed this one for so long. As with other historical mystery-thrillers by Liss, the creation of very plausible fictional alternative explanations for "known" historical facts is really well done and compelling. Supernatural subjects are a departure from previous Liss novels, but handled in such a way that they don't compromise historical accuracy. Highly recommended! 

The Twelfth Enchantment takes place in 1812 England, mostly in Nottinghamshire, where the unsatisfactory but settled life of main fictional protagonist Lucy Derrick experiences a remarkable series of upheavals. She gradually learns that she has natural gifts of a metaphysical and supernatural nature, and that because of those gifts she has become the target of several nefarious schemes. Such things as alchemy, magic, and spirits were commonly accepted as factual in those days, and the story creates a series of events and characters based on those beliefs. At the novel's beginning, the reader is as ignorant of Lucy's imminent life changes as Lucy herself, so I won't spoil any of the surprise reveals here.  

A number of historical events and persons are accurately woven into the fictional narrative. Central to the story is the Luddite movement and its destructive campaign against mechanization of textile factories. Another 1812 event woven into the novel is the assassination of Prime Minister Spencer Percival, who appears briefly as a character, with a fictional involvement in the supernatural struggle that has overtaken Lucy and her family. And always in the background is the war against Napoleon.

Lord Byron, remembered now mainly as a poet and libertine, plays a prominent role, which Liss extrapolated from his defense of the Luddites in the House of Lords. The secretive Rosicrucian movement is also involved in the supernatural plot. 

Los Alamos (1997)

Re-reading and taking a fresh look at Los Alamos, by Joseph Kanon, was the second follow-up to a previous post about the film Oppenheimer. Los Alamos was Kanon's debut novel, and its success launched a writing career that has since produced ten more historical novels, with no signs of slowing production.

Like Martin Cruz Smith's Stallion Gate, the setting for Los Alamos is the leadup to the August, 1945 first successful atomic bomb test. The common backdrop provides commonalities in the cast of historical characters. J. Robert Oppenheimer is a fictionalized self in both novels, and both fictional main protagonists have an intimate and unofficial relationship with the project director. Most other historical characters appearing under their own names have very limited roles in the novel's plot, while other persons and events are represented by fictional equivalents. 

For example, the actual death of physicist Harry Daghlian from radiation poisoning, after he accidentally dropped a plutonium bomb core, was repurposed in Los Alamos into a fictional subplot involving a fictional physicist's involvement in the murder. That's about as far as Kanon ever strayed from the historical facts. The fictional additions to the historical record maintain plausibility.

Kanon's main protagonist is Michael Connolly, a New York City newspaperman who is brought in to investigate the murder of the bomb project's head of security. The book's plot is the familiar mystery/thriller type of story, and Kanon did it very well, with all the requisite twists and reveals.

Los Alamos and Stallion Gate are both fine novels, sharing a common historical backdrop, and both are recommended as fictionalized accounts of a slice of the historical events contained in the the movie Oppenheimer. High marks for both on all of the five criteria.

Stallion Gate (1986)

Following up on the previous post about the film Oppenheimer, it seemed like a good time to re-read and comment on Stallion Gate, a 1986 novel by Martin Cruz Smith (the cover image is from the paperback edition).

Stallion Gate was Smith's second novel, following his very successful debut with Gorky Park, but having no tie-in with or references to the earlier novel.

Smith's novel is a fictional biography of U.S. Army sergeant Joe Peña, member of a Pueblo community native to the Los Alamos area around the Trinity test site. When the story begins, Peña is in solitary confinement at Leavenworth, having run afoul of an officer. 

He is suddenly rescued by an Army intelligence officer and assigned to be aide and bodyguard to Joseph Oppenheimer. Agostino believes Oppenheimer is a Russian spy, and Peña must report anything he learns about the scientist - or be sent back to Leavenworth.

The novel is better at dramatic descriptions (perhaps exaggerations) of events than at scrupulous adherence to the historical record, but never strays into make-believe. 

Some of Peña's character development reminded me of the protagonist in From Here to Eternity. Both novels are set in the WWII military. Like Private Lee, Sergeant Peña follows instincts that constantly get him into hot water with his superiors, while remaining popular with non-military peers. Also like Lee, Peña is a boxer and, in both novels, one source of dramatic tension is the buildup to a big boxing match. A third similarity is that both characters are musicians. Peña is a jazz pianist, and Smith demonstrates an expansive knowledge of that genre.

Some historical Persons appear as themselves in Stallion Gate, while others are replaced by similar but fictional characters. For example, in the actual events, a Polish-British physicist named Joseph Rotblat quit the Trinity team for reasons of conscience after Germany surrendered. A fictional British scientist does that same thing in the novel.

Stallion Gate is a very entertaining historical novel that doesn't mess with the history (or the science). Highly recommended. Next up is a re-read and review of the 1997 Joseph Kanon novel Los Alamos.

Oppenheimer (2023 film)

 

The Wikipedia article calls Christopher Nolan's Oppenheimer an "epic biographical thriller drama film". It also gets pretty good marks on its use of history, although the biographical arc introduces problems in the dramatic arc. The first half of the film ramps up the dramatic tension, culminating in the (literally) explosive climax of the Trinity A-bomb test. That makes the film's second half, dealing with Oppenheimer's post-Trinity career, seem anticlimactic. Still, the film deserves the honors it has received, and belongs on the top tier of Hollywood "historical" productions, where filmmakers are not bound by any constraints of historical accuracy. The film is about a person, not a big explosion, so kudos to Nolan for resisting the temptation to end the film with that dramatic mushroom cloud (or with Hiroshima).

The film also prompts a re-examination of that important period in history. Oppenheimer and those around him are fascinating characters, and many of them have also become the subject of scholarly biographies. I just finished reading The Pope of Physics by Gino Segré and Bettina Hoerlin, a fine 2016 biography of Enrico Fermi co-written by two children of Fermi colleagues. A re-reading and reviewing of two novels I read before these reviews began is also called for: Stallion Gate (1986) by Martin Cruz Smith, and Los Alamos (1997) by Joseph Kanon. 

Booth (2022)

Before beginning Booth, Karen Joy Fowler's masterful 2022 historical novel, a reader might fairly assume that the central character of Booth will be Lincoln's assassin John Wilkes Booth. Fowler surprises us, however. The central role is given to the entire family as a unit, and John Wilkes is actually one of the lesser figures in this drama. The assassination itself is not a central focus - this novel is very much a family saga. From father Junius Booth down to the several Booth children who died young, the members of the famous American acting family each take roles to form a company in the telling of this tale. 

John Wilkes' brother Edwin and sister Asia - both prolific journal and letter writers - provided much of the primary research material for Fowler. Little known sister Rosalie, however, plays the central role as the oldest sister who sees it all play out. Fowler is able to fill in the blanks in Rosalie's life, making her narrative the one that ties all the other family member stories together. 

To place the Booth story in its historical context, Abraham Lincoln is included as an off-stage presence, his political life outlined in third-person sections interspersed among those of various Booths, all following a chronological presentation.

Thanks also to Fowler for adding a detailed "Author's Note" at the end, explaining the many and sundry sources consulted. I hope to see more historical fiction from this author. Highest marks across the board!

The Song of Achilles (2011)

The Song of Achilles (2011), the first novel by classics scholar Madeline Miller, retells Homer's ''The Iliad'' from boyhood to Achilles' death on the battlefield of Troy. Homeric events after that are skimmed over at the end. The first-person straight-narrative viewpoint is that of Patroclus, Achilles' best friend and lover. Being a minor character in ''The Iliad'' lets the Patroclus character be more accessible, with a more modern viewpoint than other more-familiar names in the story. At the same time, the unenlightened historical setting means the two boys have to begin from cluelessness to work out what it means to have and respond to homosexual feelings.

Starting so young makes this a coming-of-age story, as the two boys grow up and have to face the greed and power-lust of the adult world, while dealing with its opposition to their feelings for each other. Complicating matters are Achilles' half-divine nature, his sea-nymph mother, the always-feuding Greek gods, and the war against Troy instigated by the gods' constant meddling in mortal affairs (if only we could still blame "the gods" for our screwups!).

Miller obviously knows her Homer, so the persons and events in The Song of Achilles are faithful to The Iliad and selected supporting mythology. Miller also chooses to ignore some familiar Achilles lore, notably the story of his famous heel. The Iliad certainly can't be read as straight history, so this is not exactly a historical novel, but it reads like one and Miller earns high marks for faithfulness to her sources.  

A Dangerous Business (2022)

Jane Smiley won a Pulitzer Prize for a different historical novel - A Thousand Acres - but I was attracted to A Dangerous Business because it is set in Monterey, California; a town I'm pretty familiar with, not too far from where I live. The murder-mystery plot unfolds over a short span of years from 1850 to 1853, and falls into a category Amazon calls "amateur sleuths". Eliza was brought from Michigan to California by her new husband who dreamed of striking it rich in the gold fields, but he never makes it out of Monterey - killed in a barroom shooting. Eliza is left to fend for herself, and eventually finds employment at a local brothel. She makes a friend, and the two of them set out to find the killer of several other women from Eliza's profession. Along the way, Eliza learns a lot about life, and about herself. The climax comes, of course, when the killer is revealed.

Monterey itself is a character, and Smiley puts considerable effort into conveying a sense of its geography and climate, although a number of small details give away the fact that the author herself has not lived there. Only some very general Monterey history is included, and no historical persons - just general descriptions of the types of people that would have been found there in 1850: Californios, sailors, ranchers, etc. Many of the old streets and a few historical places make cameo appearances - as when Eliza and her friend follow a local lawyer to the courthouse in Colton Hall, but neither the building nor its namesake Walter Colton are described. 

The novel is well-written and enjoyable, but oddly low key for a murder mystery. The murder story seems to be mainly a plot device whose twists and turns allow Eliza room for some adventure and self-discovery. I was disappointed that the plot didn't incorporate more actual history (a la David Liss), which keeps this novel below my highest ranking, but it was fun to read a story set in old Monterey. 

The Years of Rice and Salt (2002)

The Years of Rice and Salt is a 2002 novel by Kim Stanley Robinson. Not exactly what is usually considered to be a historical novel, this work instead belongs to a science fiction sub-genre known as 'alternate history' - Robinson's only venture into this area. When the actual history is treated with respect, however, such novels allow the author to examine historical forces and how events lead to subsequent events. This novel does that by positing a change to one crucial historical event.

The 'Black Death' was a pandemic that began around 1345 CE and eventually killed a third of all Europeans. In Robinson's alternate history,  it is imagined instead as a much more deadly event - killing over ninety percent across Europe, effectively destroying Christian influence over world events. The dominant remaining and familiar world cultures are Islam, China, and the Indian subcontinent. 

The destruction of incipient colonial empires in Spain, Portugal, France, and England has far-reaching effects in many parts of the world. India never falls under British influence. The Middle East never sees Crusades from Europe. In the Western Hemisphere, the native cultures are given more time to develop and resist colonial pressures. While political history changes radically, however, science and technology develop along similar lines to our own history.

To tie the stories together over the book's 1400 projected years, beginning in the reign of 'Temur the Lame' (Tamerlane), Robinson uses several ideas borrowed from reincarnation theories to have the same small group of 'souls' appear over and over. In between mortal lives, the characters meet in the "bardo", a place where souls go after death to await their assignments to new bodies. While together there, the story's characters can discuss their spiritual evolution, and that of the physical world to which they will soon return.

A lot of actual history is used to set up the alternate story, and the historical research is well-done. Alternate history is not usually very attractive to me, but this one is well done and thought-provoking.

The Mirror and the Light (2020)

The Mirror and the Light (2020), by Hilary Mantel, concludes the trilogy of historical novels about Thomas Cromwell,  chief minister to Henry VIII of England. It lives up in every way to the high standards set in the previous two novels, Wolf Hall (2009) and Bring Up the Bodies (2012), earning straight 5's in my five criteria. The gap between 2nd and 3rd novels has been much longer than the three years between 1st and 2nd, even though it covers a period of only four years. 

Those were Cromwell's last four years in this life, of course, which filled them with dramatic tensions that Mantel captures so expertly. More childhood back-story is included, as well, which seemed appropriate as Cromwell progressed into later middle age. As Henry descended into a mid-life crisis that became dangerous to all around him, Cromwell meditated on the personal history that shaped him and brought to the position of second-most-powerful person in England, before it was all suddenly snatched away.

It's probably just me and/or the recent times we've been living through in the US, but it seemed that as the events of 1536-1540 unfolded in the novel's pages, Mantel's portrayal of Henry VIII's reign came more and more to resemble the presidency of Donald Trump, which has been unfolding in parallel with the end of her writing about Henry. And Cromwell's ultimate failure to please his king could be compared to numerous appointees who departed the administration because they failed to please Trump. Fortunately, their penalties for failure did not include beheading. 

The First Conspiracy: The Secret Plot to Kill George Washington

The First Conspiracy: The Secret Plot to Kill George Washington (2019) is a work of history by Brad Meltzer and Josh Mensch. Far from the stereotypically dry history tome, however, this book reads like a fast-paced historical wartime spy novel. Amazon's descriptive blurb says:

Taking place during the most critical period of our nation’s birth, The First Conspiracy tells a remarkable and previously untold piece of American history that not only reveals George Washington’s character, but also illuminates the origins of America’s counterintelligence movement that led to the modern day CIA.

The heart of the narrative takes place during the year-plus that newly-appointed commander General George Washington spent in New York City, 1775-76, preparing for the inevitable and overwhelming British assault against his ragtag Continental Army.

As if that weren't daunting enough, Washington learns of a treasonous plot within his own elite guard unit. The ensuing effort to expose the traitors and foil the plot has enough surprising twists-and-turns to satisfy the most demanding spy novel fan. New York legislator John Jay leads the investigation, and in the process lays the groundwork for future counterespionage and counterintelligence agencies in the US. Well-written and researched, and highly recommended.

Note: a good chronological follow-up to this history would be Washington's Spies: The Story of America's First Spy Ring, by Alexander Rose, which was adapted into the AMC TV series Turn: Washington's Spies.

Island of the Mad (2018), by Laurie R. King

Island of the Mad is the fifteenth and latest (2018) novel by Laurie R. King featuring her lead character Mary Russell as partner (both marital and investigative) of Sherlock Holmes. The series, which began more than twenty years ago, has always attracted (most) Holmes fans, but this one includes a healthy dose of history as well.

It's 1925, and a missing-person case takes the sleuthing duo to Venice. Mussolini had recently taken power in Italy, and his all-black-clad police were in evidence. In a subplot, brother Mycroft has asked Sherlock to do some casual spying to determine the country's mood under the new fascist regime. As a national-security adviser to Downing Street, Mycroft is concerned about similar sentiments beginning to be felt in Britain--beginning with the "British Fascisti" established in 1923 by Rotha Lintorn-Orman.

While Mussolini was still getting started, the real 1920s action in Venice was the social scene, led by American expats Elsa Maxwell and Mr. and Mrs. Cole Porter. All three are substantial characters in the novel. Several historical Venice locales have important roles, including the beach-resort island of Lido with its Hotel Excelsior, and the extravagant palazzo Ca' Rezzonico, rented by the Porters when in Venice--now a museum. Also, before leaving for Venice, Mary and Sherlock paid a visit to Bethlem Royal Hospital in south London, the fourth iteration of the infamous "Bedlam" (now housing the Imperial War Museum).

No criteria rating for this one--the Mary Russell novels are not intended to be read as historical fiction. My gratitude to author Laurie King, however, for investing enough research time to give the novel a surprisingly large dose of historical interest and authenticity.

For another history-lite but well-written novel set in the same milieu, Try The Girl From Venice (2016), by Martin Cruz Smith.

Justinian (1998), by H. N. Turteltaub

Justinian is an earlier historical novel by Harry Turtledove, under his favorite nom-de-plume. The summary below, from Library Journal, gives the basics.

Written four years before the first book of the Hellenic Traders series, Justinian lacks several elements that make those books so enjoyable. Mainly, it's the character of Justinian, whose lack of depth offers little insight into the bases of his unpleasant personality. As noted above, the "asides" of the faithful soldier Myakes are better, but still lacking depth. Development of an author's writing skills from one book to the next is interesting to track and, although the newer Greek novels are much better than Justinian, this earlier effort is still worth reading for the hist-fict fan.   

The five criteria:

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

Yes. This was my first novel set during the Byzantine Empire - not because it's an uninteresting historical period, but because I've found no other such novels. If nothing else, the development of the mighty imperial city of Constantinople from the earlier Byzantium would be a good subject for someone like Edward Rutherfurd (we can hope).
Score = 5

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

Yes. The author's ability to read the original Greek was undoubtedly helpful. More detail would, however, have made the descriptions more compelling - even if it had to be based largely on educated conjecture.
Score = 4

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Yes. The history is well-researched, although the lack of detail and/or embellishment makes it somewhat dry.
Score = 4

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

Yes, as far as it goes. The author notes that little can be learned from the historical record about the lives of the principal figures of this era, which seems odd after the literary outpouring of the earlier Roman era.
Score = 4

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

Maybe. Justinian himself is the least plausible. It's hard to believe that he could have been as single-minded and lacking in self-doubt as he is portrayed. For me, Robert Graves' fictionalized Claudius remains the gold standard of hist-fict character development, and Justinian could have been more interesting with some of that psychological speculation.
Score = 3

From Library Journal

While not as well known as his namesake, the Byzantine emperor Justinian I, Justinian II certainly bears investigating. Treacherous, vicious, driven, and self-serving, Justinian took the throne in 685 at the age of 15. Overthrown in 695, he was cruelly mutilated and exiled across the Black Sea, where he languished for years with his bodyguard Myakes as his only companion. Although the bulk of the story is told from Justinian's point of view, the more interesting bits are found in the asides by Myakes, who, after the death of his emperor, was blinded and sent to a monastery. In spite of lengthy and tedious descriptions of military campaigns and an underpopulated cast of characters, the reader is drawn into a Byzantine world where the glory of God and the glory of earthly power are two sides of a glittering gold coin. Turteltaub is the pseudonym of sf author Harry Turtledove.
Copyright 1998 Reed Business Information, Inc.

Conclave, by Robert Harris (2016)

Conclave is not a typical historical novel. Although there's a historical background for the novel's fictional events, the events themselves are presented as present-day. Historical characters are also used to provide historical background, but none appear in the story's events. The setting (Vatican City in Rome) is certainly steeped in history, as are all the myriad details of the process by which the Church of Rome elects a new Pope - known as a conclave.

The novel's structure is more that of a crime/mystery novel. Like Harris' earlier An Officer and a Spy, the main protagonist is faced with a mystery (several interconnected mysteries, actually) whose successive solutions build to a dramatic climax, followed by the denouement. Agatha Christie would be proud.

The investigator is the Dean of the College of Cardinals, the Vatican official charged with running the papal election. No spoilers here, so suffice it to say that the mysteries involve the various leading papal candidates, and the writing is so skillful that it's unlikely readers will see the surprise ending coming.

The five criteria:

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

Yes. No matter how you feel about the Church, its byzantine history makes for great storytelling. More than historical events, however, Conclave made me want to visit Rome again.
Score = 4

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

Yes. Harris provides a wealth of historical background that makes the fictional characters and conclave events seem entirely plausible.
Score = 5

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Yes. Harris was granted extensive access to the people and places inside the Vatican, which he turned into accurate detailed descriptions of papal elections past and (fictional) present.
Score = 5

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

Yes. None of them were more than background, however, so not much detail was required. Many readers will prefer this approach to the type of historical novel where the writer has to invent fictional dialog for historical characters.
Score = 4

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

Yes, very plausible, although becoming progressively more unlikely as the drama builds toward its climax.
Score = 5

Helenic Traders series (2002-2015), by H. N. Turteltaub

Until recently better known to me as the science fiction writer Harry Turtledove, H. N. Turteltaub (one of several pen names) is a fine historical novelist. In the four-book Hellenic Traders series, two cousins from the isle of Rhodes sail (and row) the Mediterranean in pursuit of trading profit, finding adventure and meeting many people both famous and infamous.

1. Over the Wine Dark Sea (2002). Set in the year 310 BC, cousins Menedemos (captain) and Sostratos (supercargo) embark from Rhodes with a hold full of luxury goods, including a troublesome but rare and therefore valuable peacock and several hens. Menedemos, though not a scholar, loves to quote from Homer - hence the novel's title. Menedemos is also the more amorous of the two, with a particular weakness for other men's wives.

Quieter and more introspective, Sostratos has studied in Athens at the feet of successors to Aristotle, and loves to confound his more traditional cousin with "scientific" ideas. Dialogues between the two give Turteltaub opportunities for exposition on ancient Greek philosophers and historians.

Those were perilous times for traders, with warfare between two or more of the generals (collectively known to scholars as the Diodochi) who had divided the extensive empire of the departed (323 BC) Alexander the Great. Even more dangerous for sea traders, the general disorder had allowed pirates to flourish all over the eastern Mediterranean. The traders discover that things are no better in the west, when they reach the Bay of Naples just in time to be attacked by part of a Roman flotilla on its way to raid Samnite-held Pompeii. Deciding, after a perilous escape, against proceeding farther north, the cousins head back south to go back around the horn of Italy - just in time to become embroiled in the siege of Syracuse (Sicily) by Carthage, in the Third Sicilian War.

2. The Gryphon's Skull (2002).  In the following sailing season, spring of 309 BC, the cousins set out again from Rhodes, with a new cargo of Rhodian perfume, silk from Cos, wine from Chios, and Palestinian balsam obtained from Phoenician traders. Soon added to the normal trade goods is something Sostratos finds irresistible - the fossilized skull of a horned dinosaur. Having no knowledge of either dinosaurs or fossilization, Sostratos theorizes that the skull might have belonged to the legendary Gryphon. Since no one has seen such a thing, Sostratos resolves to take the skull to Athens, to hear what the great philosophers think of it.

War, in this year between Diodochi rivals Antigonus and Ptolemy, again adds danger to the voyage, along with the ever-present pirates. Circumstances conspire to prevent the traders from reaching Athens, but the resourceful cousins still survive several scrapes and still manage to return home with a tidy profit.

3. The Sacred Land (2003). Dealings and conversations with a Phoenician trader living in Rhodes convince the cousins that their next trading voyage should head south and east to trade with the Phoenicians at their home port city of Sidon. Sostratus prepares by learning some of the Aramaic language spoken in that country. Once there, Menedemos trades in the local markets of Sidon while Sostratos mounts an overland expedition to the territory of the mysterious and insular Ioudaians (Judeans), to trade for rare and expensive balsam. The journey leads to Jerusalem and on to Engedi, an oasis at the southern end of the Dead Sea, where the best balsam is grown and processed. Adventures ensue, and readers are introduced to another corner of the ancient Greek world.

4. Owls to Athens (2015). The title is the ancient Greek equivalent of "coal to Newcastle" or "ice to Eskimos". Also, a bit of a pun - the coins minted in Athens at that time featured the image of an owl. In this fourth sailing season of the series, the cousins finally reach Athens, where Sostratos studied philosophy for a time before economics required him to return to Rhodes and take his place in the family trading business. Most of this novel takes place in Athens, where the cousins witness a sudden and nearly bloodless invasion by the forces of Antigonos, who seize the ancient city from the rival general Cassander. Once again, the cousins navigate the perilous times and return successfully to Rhodes with a cargo of silver profits.

Expecting more entries in this series, possibly culminating with the 305-304 BC siege of Rhodes. All 4s and 5s in the '5 criteria' so far.

The Bronze God of Rhodes (1960), by L. Sprague de Camp

Even though it's a relatively old novel, I was excited to discover The Bronze God of Rhodes, by L. Sprague de Camp - for two reasons. First: its subject had only recently caught my interest. Second: I knew de Camp as a very good science fiction writer, and so expected to also find a very good historical fiction writer. I was not disappointed.
My interest in the post-Alexander history of Rhodes was roused while reading The Seven Wonders and Wrath of the Furies, by Steven Saylor. Those novels included a brief recounting of how the city of Rhodes (capital of the island of the same name) successfully withstood a multi-year siege, then erected the world's largest statue in honor of the sun god Helios. The statue became known as the Colossus of Rhodes, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.

The novel's protagonist is a sculptor named Chares, creator of the Colossus. Chares was a real person, though little is known about him apart from his famous creation. That makes him a perfect historical fiction character and first-person narrator, leaving the author free to invent a history and personality for him. De Camp does something with the Chares character I've seen in no other novel.

The narration is written as a memoir by a man of middle-age, but as Chares returns to the days of his youth to begin, he also returns to his youthful personality: brash, boastful, arrogant, impatient. The transformation was so convincing that, for the first couple of chapters, I wasn't sure I could tolerate Chares for an entire novel. Experience humbles and matures him, however, as it (hopefully) does to all of us.

The introduction by Harry Turtledove (another fine science fiction writer) ends with the information that he too has written historical fiction set in the same era - more titles for my wishlist.

This novel aced the five criteria:

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

Yes. At a minimum, the Turtledove novels seem worthy of a read. Maybe it's time also to move a bit farther back in history to Alexander the Great.
Score = 5

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

Yes. The siege of Rhodes (305 BC) is the main historical event, but many preceding and corollary events are described as well, fitting the Rhodian events into their context. In addition, the plot contrives to send Chares on several trips away from Rhodes, notably to Egypt. The itinerary of travels there is very similar to that in the Saylor novels, leading me to wonder if perhaps this novel provided a partial plot model for Saylor.
Score = 5

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Yes. The farther back in history you go, the less reliable documentation you find. Anything before late Republican Rome is very misty indeed. That said, the novel doesn't stray from known events, or manipulate dates unnecessarily. Settings and speculations seem plausible. There's lots of interesting info on the evolving technology of the time. The lengthy Author's Note following the novel adds a lot of background history that didn't make it directly into the story.
Score = 5

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

Who knows? Let's say they seem entirely plausible, with the usual caveat about imposing modern thinking on ancient characters - which is unavoidable. The large cast of characters includes many historical names, although most - including the protagonist/narrator, are supported by very little historical evidence.
Score = 5

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

Yes. Nothing in the story caused me to question the author's grasp on the history. Can't ask for more than that.
Score = 5

The Last King (2004), by Michael Curtis Ford

The Last King, subtitled Rome's Greatest Enemy, is a clever bit of titling misdirection. This fictionalized biography of Mithridates VI, 6th King of Pontus by that name, is told from the viewpoint of his illegitimate son Pharnaces. Spoiler alert: the last King of Pontus was Pharnaces; not his father.

As noted in the review of Wrath of the Furies, by Steven Saylor, that book inspired me to read more about Mithridates and his multiple rebellions against Rome in the 1st century BC. This novel was a good find, and the first I've read by Michael Curtis Ford. Somewhat in the Bernard Cornwell school - heavy on battlefield gore and glory, Ford failed to match Cornwell's depth of research and historical detail but delivered a good read and a credible plot. The reader's feelings toward Mithridates evolve along with his son's - from absolute devotion to creeping doubt to recognition of the ultimate futility of 25 years of near continuous warfare against the Roman armies that never stopped coming.

The historical Pharnaces apparently failed to learn that lesson, however. Despite this novel's narrative of increasing disillusionment, the son led his own rebellion against Rome a few years later, only to meet Rome's greatest general - Julius Caesar. Caesar's crushing defeat of the last King of Pontus yielded his famously terse post-campaign report: "Veni, vidi, vici" (I came, I saw, I conquered).

The early sources for information on Mithridates VI are mostly Roman, and suffer from the normal cultural biases. When writing about formidable enemies, two standard slants were 1) the enemy's total barbarism and depravity (contrasted with the wholesome heroism of opposing Romans), and 2) his freakish physical abilities (how else could he have lasted so long against far-superior Romans?).

Ford chooses to split the difference in his portrait of Mithridates. While painting a more sympathetic picture of the King than Roman authors, he goes all in for the nearly superhuman abilities. For a heroic-protagonist sort of novel, that's standard stuff, so no discredit to the author.

The five criteria:

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

Yes. I found a recent biography of Mithridates: The Poison King, by Adrienne Mayor. Also, I picked up Mary Beard's SPQR, a concise and thoughtful 1-volume history of ancient Rome (highly recommended).
Score = 5

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

Yes. Rather battle-heavy, as noted, and with little detail on anyone outside Mithridates' inner circle.
Score = 3

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Basically. The names and dates are drawn mainly from early Roman writings, as noted in the author's Acknowledgements. More attention to archaeology could have improved the accuracy of many details. For instance, Ford commits the movie-Roman sin of depicting Republic-era soldiers as wearing "Imperial Gallic" helmets (with red horsehair crests), that weren't adopted until after Julius Caesar.

The Poison King alerted me to a few places where Ford made artistic choices not necessarily supported by fact. One such is a scene where Mithridates and the remnants of his army elude the pursuing Romans by traversing a region of sheer cliffs bordering the eastern end of the Black Sea. Although it's possible that they took that route, Mayor argues convincingly that it was unlikely.

In Ford's narrative of that treacherous crossing, an event occurs that contradicts historical evidence. Mithridates' "Amazon" companion Hypsicratea falls into a glacial crevasse and perishes. Mayor notes, however, that her name appears inscribed on a stone monument years later. These are minor liberties, however, that take little away from the overall veracity.

A more intriguing speculation from Mayor, that would have fit right into Ford's novel, is the idea that Pharnaces conspired to fake his father's death and spirit him away to safety in the north. It makes a much more romantic end to the story of the unconquered king who defied the Romans for so many years, as opposed to the standard tale that Pharnaces revolted and offed dear old dad (or allowed him to kill himself).
Score = 3

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

Probably not, but who knows? Roman generals are universally depicted as sneering, insulting and cruel. Mithridates is caring and heroic. Standard 20th-century-Anglo novel types throughout.
Score = 3

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

Mostly. Pharnaces is a credible son wanting to be like Dad. Motivations given are not improbable. Overall, not bad as Roman novels go (admittedly a low bar).
Score = 4

Wrath of the Furies (2016), by Steven Saylor

The third novel in Steven Saylor's trilogy A Novel of the Ancient World is titled Wrath of the Furies. The earlier two, reviewed here previously, were The Seven Wonders (2012), and Raiders of the Nile (2014).

The end of book two left the young Gordianus living a low-key twenty-something life in Alexandria, in love with his beautiful slave Bethesda. Lured by a cryptic message hinting at danger to his old tutor Antipater, Gordianus and Bethesda set out on a ship to Ephesus (on the west coast of modern Turkey).

The ship makes a stop at the island of Rhodes, where Gordianus looks up a friend of Antipater who hosted the pair during their earlier adventures in The Seven Wonders. Here the stage is set for later skull-and-dagger work, as a fellow house-guest is revealed to be Gaius Cassius Longinus (later an assassin of Julius Caesar). Cassius is on a fact-finding mission from Rome, and wants to know what Mithridates is doing. He recruits Gordianus to be eyes-and-ears while in Ephesus.

So off they sail again, arriving at Ephesus just in time to become involved in one of the most dramatic and tragic incidents of the late Roman Republic. King Mithridates VI (the Great) of Pontus had recently rebelled against Roman control of Asia Minor, sweeping west and south through the Roman-controlled cities along the coast of modern-day Turkey.  On a single day, Mithridates orchestrated the slaughter of an estimated 80,000-150,000 Romans living in a number of those cities, including Ephesus. The incident is opaquely known as the Asiatic Vespers.

Redundancy in names and events make it difficult to keep the facts straight. The massacre occurred during the first of three wars between Rome and Mithridates VI, and many Kings of Pontus took the name Mithridates. The King's wife at this time was Monime, third of six wives (long before Henry VIII). There were also a number of royal concubines and a total of well over twenty children - including three named Mithridates.

In this climactic installment, Saylor includes all the history that was missing from Raiders of the Nile. That makes it - from a history geek's perspective - a much weightier and more satisfying read. I read the Kindle version, which was attractive and well produced.

The 5 criteria:

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

Yes. First, by returning to Roman history, I was inspired to pick up a new one-volume history of ancient Rome, SPQR by Mary Beard. Second, Mithridates VI is such a fascinating character that I picked up a recent (2010) biography titled The Poison King, by Adrienne Mayor.
    Score = 5

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

Yes. Most of it is concentrated in the city of Ephesus, but is set within the larger story of Mithridates VI.
    Score = 5

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Yes, at least in the big picture. It's a novel, so there's a lot of speculation and invention in descriptions of smaller-scale events. Saylor is always scrupulous to make sure artistic license doesn't get carried away. Also helpful (as always) is the Author's Note at the end, which lists a number of ancient sources.
    Score = 5

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

Yes, as far as is known. None of the historical character are central except the poet Antipater of Sidon, who was also a main supporting character in The Seven Wonders. King Mithridates, his queen Monime, and the captive Egyptian prince Ptolemy all have speaking roles. Others are mere cameos, necessary to complete the historical record but remaining in the background.
    Score = 4 (it's nearly impossible to get a 5 here when the subject is ancient Rome)

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

Barely. Plausible characters are not Saylor's strongest suit, especially his main protagonist Gordianus. He often seems unbelievably dense and gullible, especially in these novels of his younger days, but does provide occasional comic relief. The improbable plans and motivations of Gordianus give rise to implausible plot developments, but it's all in good fun, and Saylor doesn't mess with the history.
    Score = 3 

A Place of Greater Safety, by Hilary Mantel (1992)

A common habit among fiction readers is, when impressed by one novel, to seek out others by the same author. That process, after greatly enjoying Wolf Hall and Bring Out the Bodies, led to A Place of Greater Safety, Hilary Mantel's earlier novel of the French Revolution. 

Seeking out earlier work can be a risky proposition; authors often need several tries before finding their mature voices. Such was not the case, however, with this novel. Mantel had already penned eight previous novels, and her character-focused style was already in full flower.

The French Revolution is a perfect subject for Mantel, who loves to develop characters. Indeed, there are so many varied and interesting characters that the reader can be overwhelmed. The extensive Cast Of Characters section at the end is very helpful in that regard. Also confusing is the way characters changed roles as the revolution progressed. One year's hero often became the next year's traitor and guillotine victim. Again, the Cast of Characters helps by noting these changing circumstances. Following that is a short list of characters who survived past 1794.

There was a point, about a quarter of the way in, when it seemed that Mantel's fictionalized French characters bordered on British caricature. I was reminded of the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail when the questing knights approach an unknown castle, to find it occupied by unknown defenders. Using their best parodies of French-accented English, the defenders challenge the approaching party. Puzzled, King Arthur asks "What are you, then?" To which the reply is "I'm French! Why do you think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king?"

Anyway, that impression soon passed as the characters' non-Anglo thinking and behavior settled into the rhythm of the story. And what a story it is! The bloody lunacy of the French Revolution was, in a way, a foreshadowing of the madness to come in the 20th century.

Note: this review is based on the Kindle version, which is nicely done and a bargain at $4.95.

The five criteria:

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

Yes, especially the people. For starters, I sought out a biography (My Lady Scandalous, by Jo Manning) of the mysterious courtesan Grace Elliott, purported to be a British spy. The bio shed no light on the truth of that claim, but provided some interesting social history background. Many of the other characters merit similar exploration.

Mantel herself, in her Author's Note (a much-appreciated feature, as always), apologizes for the brevity of space devoted to Dr. Marat, who (she says) deserves his own novel (here's hoping that happens).

Score = 5

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

Yes, although the focus is necessarily very narrow, and events outside of Paris get mentioned only in passing, if at all. For example, the revolutionary/reactionary wars between France and its neighbors are simply topics discussed in Paris, usually less interesting to the principal characters than the day's debates in the Committees.

Score = 4

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Yes, it seems so - as far as possible. The author notes the uncertainty surrounding those times, especially with regards to characters never prominent before the Revolution. Mantel's research is typically very thorough. and this novel is no exception.

Score = 5

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

Yes - as far as possible. Even less is known about the historical characters than about the events. The author takes responsibility for her portrayals, made even more challenging by the lack of major fictional characters. Among historical novelists, I rate Hilary Mantel #1 in character development, and her Danton, Camille, Robespierre and many others (including many fascinating women) really come alive. If the real people weren't much like Mantel's characters, they should have been.

Update: this novel inspired me to re-read the grandfather of all French Revolution novels - Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. Mantel pays homage to Dickens by including in her novel two of his famous fictional characters - Monsieur Defarge the wine-shop keeper, and his wife who non-stop knits into her never-finished work the names of those she judges worthy of death.

Score = 4

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

There's so little of this that the question may not have much relevance. The one area where plausibility usually suffers in historical character portrayals is motivation. We know at least some of what they did, but very little of the why. Mantel always does a commendable job with characters, making them as complex, contradictory, and maddening as real people.

Score = 5

The Master of Monterey, by Lawrence Coates (2003)

Not long ago, I was lamenting to a fellow local history buff the paucity of factually-accurate early-California historical novels. Good writing set in the 20th-century isn't hard to find (e.g. the ninety-year-old Oil!, by Upton Sinclair is still relevant today). However, novels set in the pre-U.S. period have tended toward overly romantic views of Spanish California.

"Have you read The Master of Monterey?", my acquaintance asked. Admitting that I had never heard of the 2003 novel by Lawrence Coates, I was happy to find it at my local public library, and am now happy to have read it. What fun!

The postmodern historical fiction of American writers including John Barth and Thomas Pynchon breathed new life and literary quality into the genre, and Coates' novel falls squarely into that tradition. One of the more absurd episodes in California history provides a perfect setting for an irreverent and humorous tale of frustrated idealism, oddball personalities and competing agendas.

In 1842 Commodore Thomas ap Catesby Jones sailed into Monterey, capital of Mexican Alta California. Mistakenly believing the United States and Mexico to be at war, Jones captured the defenseless port and ran up the stars and stripes. One day later, another U.S. ship arrived with dispatches proving that no state of war existed. Jones quietly took the flag back down and departed. Monterey returned to its somnambulant state for another four years, until it was once again seized without a struggle in the opening days of the Mexican-American War. Jones' navy career continued after this embarrassing fiasco, but he was never again trusted with a position of such responsibility.

Coates signals early-on his intention to treat the historical events as merely a jumping-off point into larger themes. The name of Jones' flagship is changed from United States to National Intention. A fictionalized unrequited love affair allows Jones to project a garbled idealism onto his mission, and so on. A postmodern approach also dictates healthy doses of absurdist humor, and Coates does not disappoint.

A Barthian touch is the idea that historical narrative not only influences later readers' understanding of events but, if written concurrently, may actually direct the course of those events. Coates creates two characters who record this historical episode, with very different ideas about its story line. The two gradually and independently conceive the notion that their writing has the power to influence the future course of events.

One writer is a teenage aspiring poet named William Waxdeck (with a wink, Coates introduces Waxdeck as "a fifteen-year-old who could trace his ancestry to the Pyncheons of Salem, Massachusetts") who Jones orders "to compose an epic poem in heroic couplets on the theme of a ship carrying out the intentions of a great nation to spread freedom to the very logical ends of the continent". Waxdeck, whose classical education taught him how these stories are supposed to go, proceeds at first with enthusiasm. As the adventure unfolds, however, he becomes less and less sure where it should end up.

The other writer is Jones' ex-slave steward Hannibal who, while creating fair copies of the chronically-seasick poet's scribbled pages, sees and doesn't like where this story is heading. Hannibal begins to insert subversive ideas into Waxdeck's narrative, while also starting his own prose narrative of a quest to find in California a haven of freedom and equality. Neither narrative matches up with reality, of course, and other characters attempt to impose their own visions on the course of events.

Jones himself is filled with self-doubts, growing increasingly conflicted and confused about his direction and purpose. He begins to depend on each daily dose of poetry for guidance in setting the day's agenda, and becomes ever more confused as the two narrators and others all compete to be masters of their own fates - perhaps even Master of Monterey.  

The standard five criteria don't really yield an accurate evaluation of this very enjoyable novel, but for what it's worth:

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

Yes. Although the main events were familiar, this retelling brought up new questions and avenues to be researched.
Score = 4

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

Yes, just barely. History is used mainly as metaphor, and evidentiary detail is lacking. Still, there are events in the novel that actually happened, and I found no conflicts with verifiable history. The geography and topology of old Monterey are accurate.
Score = 3

3. Was the depiction of historical events accurate?

Yes and No. Coates lets readers know early on that the novel's purpose is not to tell "what really happened". Indeed, one of the tenets of postmodern historical fiction is that attempts to present fiction as "elaborated" and/or "revealed" truth are inherently dishonest. Rather than aiming to induce in readers a "willing suspension of disbelief", Coates leaves the documented history in its natural sketchy state and uses it only to serve broader novelistic aims.

A couple of odd, unnecessary and seemingly incorrect California place names are included. At one point, a group of locals ride off into the "San Gabriel Mountains". At another point, reference is made to an Ohlone rancheria called "Temecula". Neither of those real places is anywhere near Monterey.
Score = 2

4. Was the depiction of historical characters accurate?

No. Again, Coates is not trying for accurate characterization. A number of historical characters appear in the novel, but in highly fictionalized forms intended to convey some philosophical point of view, or to illustrate some particular aspect of the social realities existing in that time and place.

The reader may recognize other historical names in addition to Jones, but in heavy disguise. The fictional "Don Ignacio Castro" represents the California landed gentry - the rancheros, and the Castro family was indeed prominent in the Monterey area. The shadowy character of "Mr Lurkin" is an even-more fictionalized version of Thomas O. Larkin, an American merchant who, shortly after the events of 1842, was appointed the first and only U.S. consul to Alta California.
Score = 3

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

No. Plausibility is not one of the goals in postmodern historical fiction, so this criterion has limited relevance to an evaluation of this enjoyable novel. The follies and foibles of the very-human characters were, however, all too plausible.
Score = 3

P.S. After complaining about the dearth of local history novels, I must give a shout-out to S. L. Hawke, whose historical mystery Ghosts in the Gulch (2014) is set in 1860s Santa Cruz County.