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Four books on Roman Britain
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readingthepast is Roman Britain, for which I read four historical novels (well, okay, Asterix in Britain is a comic book, but close enough)--completely serendipitously, in reverse historical order. I'm going to talk about them in non-widdershins chronology, though.
Asterix in Britain, by Rene Goscinny and Albert Uderzo (1966)
is one of the many comic books about Asterix the Gaul and assorted friends of his from his holdout village in Gaul that haven't submitted to the Romans--in this volume, Asterix and his friend Obelix head to Britain at the behest of Asterix' cousin Anticlimax, who begs Asterix for some of the magic potion brewed by druid Getafix, so that the Britons can drive back the Romans, who have just conquered everything under Julius Caesar. Hilarity ensues, though as a devotee of the 1986 animated movie since about 1989, I have to say that I think the movie is funnier (though the British translation from the original French is pretty amusing, and apparently leagues better than the American translation). Since I have the British translation, I bought my copy somewhere in Europe, but damned if I could tell you where. Ireland? No idea. It's also one of my few encounters with Franco-Begian comics, which are full-color like American comics and...I don't know what else. The whole thing is pretty amusing, actually, though the Wikipedia article helped clear up some of the jokes, such as the bowler hat/melon/old fruit exchange right before the Tower of Londinium. The whole thing is less about the Romans than it is about poking fun at the British, and it's funny. Although, hello casual racism! Thankfully the movie nixed those jokes, they're atrocious.
The Crow Goddess, by Patricia Finney (1978)
is apparently a sequel of sorts, though it stands alone perfectly, to Finney's first novel, which also features the hero of this book, the half-Roman Hibernian bard Lugh MacRomain, who is blood-brother to the Roman prefect Karus and the savior (eventually) of the Emperor Hadrian, as well as a former King of Connaught and the sworn enemy of its Queen Maeve, as well as friend to Cuchullain. As will hopefully be clear, Finney's book is a rich melange of history, legend, and invention, and she pulls it off well--Lugh is an interesting, somewhat contradictory character whose perspective on the Empire, as that of an outsider, is quite interesting, as is the view of Roman Britain before the Wall. I thought the passages in which Lugh attempted to explain to the Hibernian tribes what a city was, or how Rome worked, were masterful in showing the contrast between the tribal and imperial worldviews without denigrating either. Lugh is lame in his right leg (which is how he survived being King of Connaught, or rather, how he became its Heron-King), and Finney portrays his emotions, as well as his physical capabilities, resulting from this well, at least in my view. She's also very good at getting across the essence of the Empire, or rather of the Roman worldview as expressed through the actions of its scions, and at keeping the various tribes of Britain and Ireland distinct and distinctive. Yeah, I liked it a lot.
Dark North, by Gillian Bradshaw (2007)
follows the exploits of one Memnon, a tribesman from sub-Saharan western Africa who winds up in the Mauretanian cavalry auxiliary and is posted along with the rest of his numerus to the Wall during the campaign of the Emperors Septimius Severus and Caracalla (who's not yet called that). Memnon saves the lives of two members of the imperial Household and is drawn through them into the struggle between Caracalla and his younger brother Geta for power, influence, and ultimately the right to be the sole Augustus after their father Severus' death. He's also captured by some Caledones tribesmen from north of the Wall on a scouting mission, which, combined with the fact that people on both sides of the Wall consistently think he's a ghost or a sorcerer thanks to his actual black skin, gives him a unique perspective on the entire situation, both in the imperial family and in the province of Britain. I really liked Memnon--he's a decent human being whose reluctance to become an officer, and whose fear of his own capability for mayhem, seems perfectly realistic, and I thought Bradshaw handled the reactions to what we would anachronistically describe as race pretty well. It's hard to describe in terms that convey it properly, but ancient subjectivity around the world w/r/t what we call race and ethnicity today was...different, and Memnon's narrative manages to communicate at least some of that. He's also quite eloquent on the virtues of the Empire, even in the face of the viciousness and ambition at its very acme, in the imperial family itself. In some ways the division wasn't between skin colors and languages but between barbarians and civilized people, at least in the Roman sphere, and all these books evoke that decently well.
The Silver Branch, by Rosemary Sutcliff (1957)
is a sort of companion to her book The Eagle of the Ninth, set nearly two centuries later in the twilight of the unified Empire, right before the rise of Constantius (who was apparently cognomened "Chlorus" for his pallor). Both Sutcliff and Finney make use of the IX Hispana legion, which was disbanded or destroyed in mysterious circumstances early in the second century--either in Persia in the 120s or slightly earlier in Britain, according to historians; obviously these books take it as fact that something happened to the IX Hispana in Britain that precluded its being reformed (which would have involved either disgrace or a permanently lost Eagle, or both). In some ways Sutcliff's book is the weakest of the lot, since it's transparently about the post-imperial anxieties that were even at the time sweeping contemporary Great Britain. All Sutclif's characters are very much conscious of the passing grandeur of Rome, and in fact the Emperor in Britain tries to ensure that Britain can stand alone after Rome falls, before he's assassinated despite the best efforts of Flavius and Justin, the commander and surgeon of a cohort on the Wall. I also thought that Sutcliff, despite her skillful evocation of the cultural melange that was the Empire at its height, basically fell prey to racist stereotypes w/r/t who the villains of the tale are and what sort of villainy they do. Still, it's a quick, enjoyable read, and I'll probably try to track down the first book eventually.
I am one of those people who is quite capable of feeling regret for not having experienced various historical formations at their height, and all these books definitely pushed my "O to see Rome in its prime" buttons, despite the fact that it's still true, even now, as Emperor Hadrian says in The Crow Goddess, that everyone comes to Rome eventually, and that a good portion of Roman Rome still remains in the Eternal City. Obviously the Romans weren't any sort of angels on earth, but it's indisputable, to my mind, that the Empire in general and the Pax Romana in particular brought a greater prosperity and physical well-being to more people on earth than had been seen in history up to that point, and in some ways even since. (NB: I'm not sure on the stats w/r/t Qin China, but that was only for, what, 20 years in the 220s BCE?) And, you know, I do wonder in some ways whether we'd be better off even today if the Empire hadn't fallen (especially w/r/t the aforementioned differences between ancient and modern politico-cultural subjectivity). It's hard to see that we'd be worse, though I could do without the gladiatorial games and various other festivals of human cruelty that the Romans were down with. Plus, you know, slavery, though Bradshaw in particular is good at illustrating the ways in which ancient slavery was very, very different from slavery as we think of it in America (the Peculiar Institution was very peculiar historically, suffice it to say).
Q: All these books take it for granted that Latin was the imperial lingua franca. I've heard multiple times that it was actually Koine Greek. Was it both, as in Latin in the West and Greek in the East? Or was it actually just Greek?
readingthepast is Roman Britain, for which I read four historical novels (well, okay, Asterix in Britain is a comic book, but close enough)--completely serendipitously, in reverse historical order. I'm going to talk about them in non-widdershins chronology, though. Asterix in Britain, by Rene Goscinny and Albert Uderzo (1966)
is one of the many comic books about Asterix the Gaul and assorted friends of his from his holdout village in Gaul that haven't submitted to the Romans--in this volume, Asterix and his friend Obelix head to Britain at the behest of Asterix' cousin Anticlimax, who begs Asterix for some of the magic potion brewed by druid Getafix, so that the Britons can drive back the Romans, who have just conquered everything under Julius Caesar. Hilarity ensues, though as a devotee of the 1986 animated movie since about 1989, I have to say that I think the movie is funnier (though the British translation from the original French is pretty amusing, and apparently leagues better than the American translation). Since I have the British translation, I bought my copy somewhere in Europe, but damned if I could tell you where. Ireland? No idea. It's also one of my few encounters with Franco-Begian comics, which are full-color like American comics and...I don't know what else. The whole thing is pretty amusing, actually, though the Wikipedia article helped clear up some of the jokes, such as the bowler hat/melon/old fruit exchange right before the Tower of Londinium. The whole thing is less about the Romans than it is about poking fun at the British, and it's funny. Although, hello casual racism! Thankfully the movie nixed those jokes, they're atrocious.
The Crow Goddess, by Patricia Finney (1978)
is apparently a sequel of sorts, though it stands alone perfectly, to Finney's first novel, which also features the hero of this book, the half-Roman Hibernian bard Lugh MacRomain, who is blood-brother to the Roman prefect Karus and the savior (eventually) of the Emperor Hadrian, as well as a former King of Connaught and the sworn enemy of its Queen Maeve, as well as friend to Cuchullain. As will hopefully be clear, Finney's book is a rich melange of history, legend, and invention, and she pulls it off well--Lugh is an interesting, somewhat contradictory character whose perspective on the Empire, as that of an outsider, is quite interesting, as is the view of Roman Britain before the Wall. I thought the passages in which Lugh attempted to explain to the Hibernian tribes what a city was, or how Rome worked, were masterful in showing the contrast between the tribal and imperial worldviews without denigrating either. Lugh is lame in his right leg (which is how he survived being King of Connaught, or rather, how he became its Heron-King), and Finney portrays his emotions, as well as his physical capabilities, resulting from this well, at least in my view. She's also very good at getting across the essence of the Empire, or rather of the Roman worldview as expressed through the actions of its scions, and at keeping the various tribes of Britain and Ireland distinct and distinctive. Yeah, I liked it a lot.
Dark North, by Gillian Bradshaw (2007)
follows the exploits of one Memnon, a tribesman from sub-Saharan western Africa who winds up in the Mauretanian cavalry auxiliary and is posted along with the rest of his numerus to the Wall during the campaign of the Emperors Septimius Severus and Caracalla (who's not yet called that). Memnon saves the lives of two members of the imperial Household and is drawn through them into the struggle between Caracalla and his younger brother Geta for power, influence, and ultimately the right to be the sole Augustus after their father Severus' death. He's also captured by some Caledones tribesmen from north of the Wall on a scouting mission, which, combined with the fact that people on both sides of the Wall consistently think he's a ghost or a sorcerer thanks to his actual black skin, gives him a unique perspective on the entire situation, both in the imperial family and in the province of Britain. I really liked Memnon--he's a decent human being whose reluctance to become an officer, and whose fear of his own capability for mayhem, seems perfectly realistic, and I thought Bradshaw handled the reactions to what we would anachronistically describe as race pretty well. It's hard to describe in terms that convey it properly, but ancient subjectivity around the world w/r/t what we call race and ethnicity today was...different, and Memnon's narrative manages to communicate at least some of that. He's also quite eloquent on the virtues of the Empire, even in the face of the viciousness and ambition at its very acme, in the imperial family itself. In some ways the division wasn't between skin colors and languages but between barbarians and civilized people, at least in the Roman sphere, and all these books evoke that decently well.
The Silver Branch, by Rosemary Sutcliff (1957)
is a sort of companion to her book The Eagle of the Ninth, set nearly two centuries later in the twilight of the unified Empire, right before the rise of Constantius (who was apparently cognomened "Chlorus" for his pallor). Both Sutcliff and Finney make use of the IX Hispana legion, which was disbanded or destroyed in mysterious circumstances early in the second century--either in Persia in the 120s or slightly earlier in Britain, according to historians; obviously these books take it as fact that something happened to the IX Hispana in Britain that precluded its being reformed (which would have involved either disgrace or a permanently lost Eagle, or both). In some ways Sutcliff's book is the weakest of the lot, since it's transparently about the post-imperial anxieties that were even at the time sweeping contemporary Great Britain. All Sutclif's characters are very much conscious of the passing grandeur of Rome, and in fact the Emperor in Britain tries to ensure that Britain can stand alone after Rome falls, before he's assassinated despite the best efforts of Flavius and Justin, the commander and surgeon of a cohort on the Wall. I also thought that Sutcliff, despite her skillful evocation of the cultural melange that was the Empire at its height, basically fell prey to racist stereotypes w/r/t who the villains of the tale are and what sort of villainy they do. Still, it's a quick, enjoyable read, and I'll probably try to track down the first book eventually.
I am one of those people who is quite capable of feeling regret for not having experienced various historical formations at their height, and all these books definitely pushed my "O to see Rome in its prime" buttons, despite the fact that it's still true, even now, as Emperor Hadrian says in The Crow Goddess, that everyone comes to Rome eventually, and that a good portion of Roman Rome still remains in the Eternal City. Obviously the Romans weren't any sort of angels on earth, but it's indisputable, to my mind, that the Empire in general and the Pax Romana in particular brought a greater prosperity and physical well-being to more people on earth than had been seen in history up to that point, and in some ways even since. (NB: I'm not sure on the stats w/r/t Qin China, but that was only for, what, 20 years in the 220s BCE?) And, you know, I do wonder in some ways whether we'd be better off even today if the Empire hadn't fallen (especially w/r/t the aforementioned differences between ancient and modern politico-cultural subjectivity). It's hard to see that we'd be worse, though I could do without the gladiatorial games and various other festivals of human cruelty that the Romans were down with. Plus, you know, slavery, though Bradshaw in particular is good at illustrating the ways in which ancient slavery was very, very different from slavery as we think of it in America (the Peculiar Institution was very peculiar historically, suffice it to say).
Q: All these books take it for granted that Latin was the imperial lingua franca. I've heard multiple times that it was actually Koine Greek. Was it both, as in Latin in the West and Greek in the East? Or was it actually just Greek?