The Four Emperors Series, by L. J. Trafford.
Book I: Palatine, publ Sphinx 2018, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 325 7, pp.viii + 419. £8.99.
Book II: Galba’s Men, publ Sphinx 2018, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 326 4, pp.xii + 433. £9.99.
Book III: Otho’s Regret, publ Sphinx 2018, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 327 1, pp.viii + 472. £9.99.
Book IV: Vitellius’ Feast, publ Sphinx 2019, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 307 3, pp.viii +452. £9.99.
This tetralogy, based of course on ‘the year of the four emperors’, AD69, appealed to me since it took me back to my university days of studying Augustus and the early empire. It’s a great read as far as storyline and content go, enabling me to see the wood as well as the trees of that year. Let’s get the quibbling out of the way first.
It’s the little things that irritate, and modern English usage, rather than the author, is to blame for some of it. The verbs ‘stand’ and ‘sit’ for example exist as transitive as well as intransitive verbs, yet ‘sat’ is used for ‘sitting’ and ‘stood’ for ‘standing’ virtually throughout. The participles of other verbs are used incorrectly also. The author’s style is idiosyncratic: punctuation is not always what one would expect, semi-colons being a rarity (their place being taken by commas) and not always used correctly. The English register is modern and idiomatic, which is fine, but sometimes clashes with the era being described: hence the dismissive term ‘whatever’, as well as ‘your next appraisal’, ‘on full beam’, ‘worth 30K at least’, ‘gave this story legs’, ‘that sort of bird’, ‘not dives like this’.
The author has been sorely let down by her proofreading team. Their efforts betray lack of familiarity with some of the proper nouns, for example: Via Sacre for Via Sacra, Vicius Longus for Vicus Longus, Via Flamina for Via Flaminia, Miseum and Misenium for Misenum, Baia and Baie for Baiae, Acteon for Actaeon, Via Longus for Via Longa, Argentium for Argentum, Batvarians for Batavians, Gneus for Gnaeus, Iphegeneia for Iphigeneia, Paisphne for Pasiphae, Dollabella for Dolabella, Caecinia for Caecina, Aquilia for Aquileia, Bedracium for Bedriacum, Plancentia for Placentia, Campus Martinus for Campus Martius. There is an incorrect Latin vocative at Galba’s Men p163: ‘et tu, Nymphidius?’ Some of the proofreading however fails on basic spelling and usage rather than familiarity with the context: discreetness/discretion affect/effect, weaved/wove, vacilated/vacillated, solider/soldier, consul/counsel, practice/practise, ssmall/small, fflames/flames, amphora/amphorae (passim), reaped/wreaked. This sort of profusion leads inevitably to the impression that publication was a hurried affair. I could go on, but I’ve already exposed myself to a charge of excessive negativity, so perhaps I should redress things a little.
The rear-cover blurb for each book starts with a catchy alliterative tricolon: debauchery, depravity, decadence; sex, skullduggery, slaughter; duplicity, degeneracy, destruction; hedonism, heroism, horror. You get the picture. Needless to say, I don’t recommend your adding these titles to your Year 8 reading lists if you want to keep your job. Whilst casual sex is taken for granted there is little to cause much offence initially, though there are occasional more salacious and explicit episodes as the series progresses.
This is a compelling read, and it almost goes without saying that T. is in command of her source material (historical as well as social) and combines this seamlessly with the creative fictional input. The characterisation of the main historical players as well as the secretarial staff and their households is subtle and well developed, and as the year proceeds it is easy, thanks to the author’s psychological profiling, to engage with the individuals, even the unpleasant ones, to the extent that one almost feels regret when some of them meet a sticky end. There is something Tacitean about the final sentence of the penultimate chapter of Palatine: ‘Such was the end of Gaius Nymphidius Sabinus’, whom T. considers to be the pivotal figure in determining what happened during the rest of the year. There is a useful list of characters at the beginning of each book as a reminder of who’s who. My favourite is the hilarious catamite Sporus, who survives the entire series. A useful addition would be a map of Rome: ‘Some maps of the key locations. So the reader can picture the action more readily’, to quote Philo, the emperor’s private secretary’s secretary (Otho’s Regret, p20).
Clearly the books have to be read in sequence. But beware, it can be an addictive occupation: on several occasions I found myself intending to put a volume down but ‘just one more chapter syndrome’ won the day.
Book I: Palatine, publ Sphinx 2018, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 325 7, pp.viii + 419. £8.99.
Book II: Galba’s Men, publ Sphinx 2018, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 326 4, pp.xii + 433. £9.99.
Book III: Otho’s Regret, publ Sphinx 2018, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 327 1, pp.viii + 472. £9.99.
Book IV: Vitellius’ Feast, publ Sphinx 2019, p/b ISBN 978 1 91257 307 3, pp.viii +452. £9.99.
This tetralogy, based of course on ‘the year of the four emperors’, AD69, appealed to me since it took me back to my university days of studying Augustus and the early empire. It’s a great read as far as storyline and content go, enabling me to see the wood as well as the trees of that year. Let’s get the quibbling out of the way first.
It’s the little things that irritate, and modern English usage, rather than the author, is to blame for some of it. The verbs ‘stand’ and ‘sit’ for example exist as transitive as well as intransitive verbs, yet ‘sat’ is used for ‘sitting’ and ‘stood’ for ‘standing’ virtually throughout. The participles of other verbs are used incorrectly also. The author’s style is idiosyncratic: punctuation is not always what one would expect, semi-colons being a rarity (their place being taken by commas) and not always used correctly. The English register is modern and idiomatic, which is fine, but sometimes clashes with the era being described: hence the dismissive term ‘whatever’, as well as ‘your next appraisal’, ‘on full beam’, ‘worth 30K at least’, ‘gave this story legs’, ‘that sort of bird’, ‘not dives like this’.
The author has been sorely let down by her proofreading team. Their efforts betray lack of familiarity with some of the proper nouns, for example: Via Sacre for Via Sacra, Vicius Longus for Vicus Longus, Via Flamina for Via Flaminia, Miseum and Misenium for Misenum, Baia and Baie for Baiae, Acteon for Actaeon, Via Longus for Via Longa, Argentium for Argentum, Batvarians for Batavians, Gneus for Gnaeus, Iphegeneia for Iphigeneia, Paisphne for Pasiphae, Dollabella for Dolabella, Caecinia for Caecina, Aquilia for Aquileia, Bedracium for Bedriacum, Plancentia for Placentia, Campus Martinus for Campus Martius. There is an incorrect Latin vocative at Galba’s Men p163: ‘et tu, Nymphidius?’ Some of the proofreading however fails on basic spelling and usage rather than familiarity with the context: discreetness/discretion affect/effect, weaved/wove, vacilated/vacillated, solider/soldier, consul/counsel, practice/practise, ssmall/small, fflames/flames, amphora/amphorae (passim), reaped/wreaked. This sort of profusion leads inevitably to the impression that publication was a hurried affair. I could go on, but I’ve already exposed myself to a charge of excessive negativity, so perhaps I should redress things a little.
The rear-cover blurb for each book starts with a catchy alliterative tricolon: debauchery, depravity, decadence; sex, skullduggery, slaughter; duplicity, degeneracy, destruction; hedonism, heroism, horror. You get the picture. Needless to say, I don’t recommend your adding these titles to your Year 8 reading lists if you want to keep your job. Whilst casual sex is taken for granted there is little to cause much offence initially, though there are occasional more salacious and explicit episodes as the series progresses.
This is a compelling read, and it almost goes without saying that T. is in command of her source material (historical as well as social) and combines this seamlessly with the creative fictional input. The characterisation of the main historical players as well as the secretarial staff and their households is subtle and well developed, and as the year proceeds it is easy, thanks to the author’s psychological profiling, to engage with the individuals, even the unpleasant ones, to the extent that one almost feels regret when some of them meet a sticky end. There is something Tacitean about the final sentence of the penultimate chapter of Palatine: ‘Such was the end of Gaius Nymphidius Sabinus’, whom T. considers to be the pivotal figure in determining what happened during the rest of the year. There is a useful list of characters at the beginning of each book as a reminder of who’s who. My favourite is the hilarious catamite Sporus, who survives the entire series. A useful addition would be a map of Rome: ‘Some maps of the key locations. So the reader can picture the action more readily’, to quote Philo, the emperor’s private secretary’s secretary (Otho’s Regret, p20).
Clearly the books have to be read in sequence. But beware, it can be an addictive occupation: on several occasions I found myself intending to put a volume down but ‘just one more chapter syndrome’ won the day.