The October Horse : A Novel of Caesar and Cleopatra

Rating:
Summary: End of an Era
Review: "The October Horse" marks the end of an era, both for fan's of McCullough's series, and (for the characters who populate her novel) the end of Republican Rome.

Throughout her "first man in Rome" series, McCullough has traced the events leading up to the ascension of Octavius, Julius Caesar's nephew who would become the first ruler of the Roman Empire. The past few novels have chronicled the life and exploits of Julius Caesar and the men around him who would shape his fate.

The current volume recounts Julius Caesar's final years, focusing on his involvement with Cleopatra, and his final campaign in Spain. As Caesar's fame and power grows, so does the discontent of the Roman elite. Perhaps, if they had the benefit of reading McCullough's works, they could have seen how the pressure of the ever-expanding sphere of Roman influence, and the reforms instigated by Marius, required the focus of a single, brilliant man to steer its vision. However, to the powerful men of the capital city, who have watched the power of the Roman Senate erode from absolute, to merely advisory within a single lifetime, his ascendancy is percieved as a grave threat to their cherished way of life.

My interest in Ancient Rome was sparked by reading Shakespear's "Julius Caesar" in High School, and so "The October Horse" is the book in this series I have been waiting to read. I was particularly interested in her portrayal of Brutus and Portia, whose story I found particularly compelling in the play. McCullough (following the accounts of Plutarch and other primary sources) necessarily covers some of the same ground as the Bard and other authors, but she does so in her own unique (and sometimes shockingly frank!) way. In "The October Horse" the groundwork that she laid in prior novels, particularly regarding the character of Servilia, has a big payoff. I particularly enjoyed her explanation for Cato's daughter's suicide. It illustrated what I consider one of the author's greatest strenghts: taking a dry "fact" and putting it in a context that turns it on its head, demonstrating through her characters that people are people are people- even 2000 years ago.

The plot of "The October Horse" is familiar to anyone who has even a Middle School knowledge of Western History, but the detailed, animated characters make reading a joy. This book didn't have as many "dry" passages as some of the earlier books (surely I am not the only long-time reader of the series who has skipped vast sections of "Oh, they're in Parthia now. *yawn*" sections). The book ends at precisely the proper place. McCullough wrote the story that she promised to tell, and recognised (as she says in the Afterward) that she had to stop now, or keep writing forever.

All in all, this is my favorite of the lot. It was a long time coming, but well worth the wait!

Rating:
Summary: "October Horse" a fine finish
Review: After the bombast of "Caesar," which irritated me on several levels, I didn't expect to like "The October Horse." My first reading didn't give me hope; the book felt rushed, stiff, and crammed full of Colleen McCullough's infamous expositions. I put the book away and decided to try later.

Well, over a year has passed and "later" came this week, when I sat down to re-read "The October Horse" and discovered I liked it better than I thought.

"The October Horse" refers to a ceremonial horse race in Rome, whereby the winning horse was sacrificed to Mars and his head made the prize for either the Subura or Via Sacra to gain. The symbol of the October Horse for the Great Man who comes out of nowhere has been used by McCullough to mark Sulla and Caesar. Never has it been more appropriate in Caesar's case than in this book.

Having crossed the Rubicon, beaten Pompey at Pharsalus, and made plans to deal with the remaining "Republicans," Caesar goes to Egypt and there finds that Pompey has been murdered and the Ptolemaic succession is in danger. The young royals are at each other's throats and the Queen, 21-year-old Cleopatra, is desperate to save herself and her country. To do so, she must conceive a child by another God-Monarch. She and Caesar meet for this purpose, and it is curiously charming--hardly the scene of grand seduction out of movies, but sweet in its depiction of the political reality of the event.

Caesar brings stability to Egypt and impregnates Cleopatra, but matters at home in Rome, Africa and the East all require his attention. Cato has decamped to Utica; the "Republicans", led by Labienus and Metellus Scipio, are marshalling their forces for battle; and Rome has sunk into chaos thanks in part to Mark Antony, Caesar's nephew, assumed heir, and bully-at-heart with plenty of scores to settle.

Of course Caesar puts Antony in his place, restores order to Rome, and defeats the Republicans. And in doing so, he ignites the fuse of jealousy and resentment among the men he's pardoned or helped in their careers, men who owe all to him. Out of this comes the conspiracy to take his life, led by poor Brutus and abetted by Antony. But nothing transpires as they plan, and this is where the story picks up and takes off.

McCullough had introduced Caesar's grandnephew Octavius before, in "Caesar's Women," and here she reveals him as a walking enigma. Calm, controlled, sweet and even-tempered, but with a core of iron, Octavius is the last person that anyone--including Antony--would expect to inherit Caesar's wealth and mantle of power. Yet he does, and his transformation from delicate youth to natural political animal is startling as well as convincing. McCullough succeeds because she doesn't make him naive; Octavian is naturally intelligent, observant, ambitious, and burning to push himself to the edge. Used to being overlooked, Octavian learns to use his frail image as a shield, lowering it by degrees to the dismay of those who take the boy for granted.

Brutus is, and remains, a pitiful character in this story. A businessman unwillingly thrust into the military and political arena, Brutus is pushed into the assassination plot against Caesar by Porcia, his true love, whom he finally marries. His brother-in-law Cassius, whose jealousy of Caesar fills his life with bitterness, is a one-track counterpoint to him, a man who only wants glory and a world without anyone who can steal it from him. And Antony comes off as a lout, a bully, and a fool, one who comes to realize that he is in over his head when it comes to power, but who can't bear to let go of it.

The lesser characters are enthralling. Chief among the portrayals is McCullough's depiction of Cato. Easy to despise, Cato's final months reveal the contradictions within the man, the struggle between his true self and the persona he erected for his own protection and edification. I found myself mourning Cato, something I didn't think possible. Porcia, Cato's daughter, gets her one desire--Brutus--and then slowly goes mad from the stress and grief. Then again, if I had Servilia for a mother-in-law, I'd go insane too. Servilia is the most malign female character I've encountered in historical fiction, and her reaction when she discovers that her son and Porcia are wed is a hair-raiser. Likewise, her letter to Brutus detailing Porcia's suicide will have the reader on edge, deciphering along with Brutus the truth of what Servilia has truly done.

There are chunks of exposition in this book, still, and it slows down the last third until the Battle of Philippi. Then it ends in a rush, with an aftermath between Antony and Octavian that leaves no doubt in whose favor the balance has tipped. This scene is tight and powerful; unfortunately, the conclusion of the book is rather melodramatic. It works, but some tightening of the prose would have really given the reader a chill.

So yes, I liked "The October Horse," and I hope McCullough tries her hand at writing more historical fiction. The "Masters of Rome" series is a good one, and surely she'd be able to find more worthies in Roman history to write about.

Rating:
Summary: "October Horse" a fine finish
Review: After the bombast of "Caesar," which irritated me on several levels, I didn't expect to like "The October Horse." My first reading didn't give me hope; the book felt rushed, stiff, and crammed full of Colleen McCullough's infamous expositions. I put the book away and decided to try later.

Well, over a year has passed and "later" came this week, when I sat down to re-read "The October Horse" and discovered I liked it better than I thought.

"The October Horse" refers to a ceremonial horse race in Rome, whereby the winning horse was sacrificed to Mars and his head made the prize for either the Subura or Via Sacra to gain. The symbol of the October Horse for the Great Man who comes out of nowhere has been used by McCullough to mark Sulla and Caesar. Never has it been more appropriate in Caesar's case than in this book.

Having crossed the Rubicon, beaten Pompey at Pharsalus, and made plans to deal with the remaining "Republicans," Caesar goes to Egypt and there finds that Pompey has been murdered and the Ptolemaic succession is in danger. The young royals are at each other's throats and the Queen, 21-year-old Cleopatra, is desperate to save herself and her country. To do so, she must conceive a child by another God-Monarch. She and Caesar meet for this purpose, and it is curiously charming--hardly the scene of grand seduction out of movies, but sweet in its depiction of the political reality of the event.

Caesar brings stability to Egypt and impregnates Cleopatra, but matters at home in Rome, Africa and the East all require his attention. Cato has decamped to Utica; the "Republicans", led by Labienus and Metellus Scipio, are marshalling their forces for battle; and Rome has sunk into chaos thanks in part to Mark Antony, Caesar's nephew, assumed heir, and bully-at-heart with plenty of scores to settle.

Of course Caesar puts Antony in his place, restores order to Rome, and defeats the Republicans. And in doing so, he ignites the fuse of jealousy and resentment among the men he's pardoned or helped in their careers, men who owe all to him. Out of this comes the conspiracy to take his life, led by poor Brutus and abetted by Antony. But nothing transpires as they plan, and this is where the story picks up and takes off.

McCullough had introduced Caesar's grandnephew Octavius before, in "Caesar's Women," and here she reveals him as a walking enigma. Calm, controlled, sweet and even-tempered, but with a core of iron, Octavius is the last person that anyone--including Antony--would expect to inherit Caesar's wealth and mantle of power. Yet he does, and his transformation from delicate youth to natural political animal is startling as well as convincing. McCullough succeeds because she doesn't make him naive; Octavian is naturally intelligent, observant, ambitious, and burning to push himself to the edge. Used to being overlooked, Octavian learns to use his frail image as a shield, lowering it by degrees to the dismay of those who take the boy for granted.

Brutus is, and remains, a pitiful character in this story. A businessman unwillingly thrust into the military and political arena, Brutus is pushed into the assassination plot against Caesar by Porcia, his true love, whom he finally marries. His brother-in-law Cassius, whose jealousy of Caesar fills his life with bitterness, is a one-track counterpoint to him, a man who only wants glory and a world without anyone who can steal it from him. And Antony comes off as a lout, a bully, and a fool, one who comes to realize that he is in over his head when it comes to power, but who can't bear to let go of it.

The lesser characters are enthralling. Chief among the portrayals is McCullough's depiction of Cato. Easy to despise, Cato's final months reveal the contradictions within the man, the struggle between his true self and the persona he erected for his own protection and edification. I found myself mourning Cato, something I didn't think possible. Porcia, Cato's daughter, gets her one desire--Brutus--and then slowly goes mad from the stress and grief. Then again, if I had Servilia for a mother-in-law, I'd go insane too. Servilia is the most malign female character I've encountered in historical fiction, and her reaction when she discovers that her son and Porcia are wed is a hair-raiser. Likewise, her letter to Brutus detailing Porcia's suicide will have the reader on edge, deciphering along with Brutus the truth of what Servilia has truly done.

There are chunks of exposition in this book, still, and it slows down the last third until the Battle of Philippi. Then it ends in a rush, with an aftermath between Antony and Octavian that leaves no doubt in whose favor the balance has tipped. This scene is tight and powerful; unfortunately, the conclusion of the book is rather melodramatic. It works, but some tightening of the prose would have really given the reader a chill.

So yes, I liked "The October Horse," and I hope McCullough tries her hand at writing more historical fiction. The "Masters of Rome" series is a good one, and surely she'd be able to find more worthies in Roman history to write about.

Rating:
Summary: Final chapter in an incredible series
Review: Another magnificent title concluding the First Man in Rome series. Once again Colleen McCullough makes you feel as if you are there, and you are reading the absolute true historical account of the dying days of the Roman Republic. Read as a stand alone if you must, but you will soon find yourself looking for the previous novels.

The end of the book seemed a bit more rushed than previous novels, but it must've been my own disappointment in knowing that there would be no more.

Before I started reading this series I could only think, "a novel of ancient Rome written by the writer of the Thornbirds... no thanks, not for me." But thank you to my wife for kicking me in the [...] and introducing me to a true classic.

Rating:
Summary: Strong, but should have been about Octavian
Review: At first read (as many have noted) this is the weakest book in the series. But on second read, it's one of the strongest. It's a culmination, and then a fresh start. And the fresh start is what salvages the book.

McCullough's subject is obstensibly Rome, but her Caesar worship crowds the rest of Rome off the stage. In an interesting way, maybe this is what the "Liberators" felt--that Caesar had become so powerful, and so fed up with the good old ways, that he was going to transform Rome completely out of recognition. The inheritors of the Famous Families knew that their ancient names wouldn't entitle them to inherit anything at all. A Rome with one man standing above all, that they could tolerate (Marius, Sulla, Pompey). But a Rome with one man changing the very fundamentals of the society--that was too much of a threat. And, in the end, they were right. Octavian's ascendency and the Empire would take power away from the Senate, the Knights, and everyone else who'd considered themselves the traditional masters of Rome.

Caesar's a burnout in this book. His contemporaries are dead (Pompey), exiled (Cato), or avoiding him (Cicero). Unlike Sulla, he has no intention of laying down his dictatorship and partying himself to death. He grimly hangs on, working, working, working. And essentially behaving like a tyrant. This leads to endless plotting among those who simply want to tear him down to salvage their own traditional positions (the Boni) and those who want to tear him down so they can be the Next Caesar (a thorougly nasty Marc Antony). A sense of gloom pervades the first part of the book. We know where this is going. And so does McCullough, who, as another poster said, was in love with Caesar. Unfortunately, the pre-ordained fall of the Perfect Roman lands with a thud. Even the title of the chapter is a cliche--"Fall of a Titan."

Fortunately, McCullough plows on and gives us Octavian, a far more complex figure. I don't even think she herself quite figured out how an 18yr old managed to not only survive, but eventually eclipse his rivals. A cold, icy calculator, sure. But Rome had no shortage of those. It's fascinating to watch as she tries to unravel this guy, to figure out just who and what the young Octavian was. And why Caesar made him his heir. Was Caesar simply thinking like a King (detested word in Rome) and grooming a successor? Or did he see a vision of Rome's future in a very young, very not-Caesar-like Gaius Octavius? It's interesting that we see none of the other Masters of Rome (Marius, Sulla, Pompey) doing the same thing in the other books. A lot of questions here, none very well answered, although the book is the better for that, just as McCullough is at her strongest when presenting those parts of Roman History that are not so well known.

And then...she stops. Octavian's on his way up, the Republic is just barely hanging on, and McCullough just runs out of gas. Why we had to get page after page of Cato trudging across Northern Africa instead of more about Octavian, I don't know. Yes, the Caesar's story has been told many times before. That's because it's a good story. If McCullough had chosen to tell more of it, this would have been a better book.

Oh, yeah, Cleopatra. What a waste. I can only imagine this was to sell more books, since Cleo is really something of a sidelight to Caesar's career. She, and Caesar's downfall could have easily been put into the previous book, leaving more room to focus on Octavian here, just as I wish she'd chosen to give us more Sulla in Fortune's Favorites, rather than the far less interesting Pompey and his dreary Spanish campaign. If Masters of Rome has a glaring weakness, this is it--a tendency to go on at length about people (Aurelia, Mithridates, Spartacus, Cleopatra) who played only minor roles in the history of Rome.

So, in summary, a good book that could have been better. One day, I hope McCullough finally sits down and finishes Octavian's story, and that she take a good, long time doing it. I don't know about the rest of you, but I *like* long books. Provided they're good long books, which Masters of Rome very definitely has provided for so many years.

Rating:
Summary: Read it. Love it. Take it with a grain of salt.
Review: Caesar said he wanted neither to be a King nor a God. In her new book, _The October Horse_, Colleen McCullough makes him both. Since the earlier books in the series, Caesar has become ever more perfect and ever more remote. He even thinks of himself almost entirely in the third person. By this last book, Caesar is so stripped of even the dignity of his flaws, that it is hard to mourn his death. The reader feels instead that he was never really mortal--he never really belonged to us at all. (Which may be the author's point.)

Consequently, this book is not about Julius Caesar the human being. It's not even about Caesar and Cleopatra. It is, however, a very good read and a fantastic Augustan manifesto. Wherever Octavian is, he's reading this book and clicking his high-heeled shoes together with glee.

For the villain of the novel, the author chooses Marc Antony. It has sometimes been advanced that Antony was in league with Caesar's assassins, but that idea usually gives way under the weight of contradictory evidence. The author makes a valiant attempt to support the theory, but the result is tortured logic that relies upon an oath to Fulvia and Hercules. (Yes, you read that correctly.) Even Cicero gets confused. On one page Cicero declares Caesar's death as an act of patriotism, and by the next page he is labeling it murder at Antony's hands.

McCullough's Antony isn't just treacherous; he's a bungling, impulsive, sociopath. He's so lacking in redeeming features that the reader cannot help but wonder how he did not accidentally fall on his sword in a drooling stupor instead of almost ruling the world. By the time McCullough finally grudgingly admits to Antony's innate sense of honor at the very end of the book, it's too late. By then, it's completely out of character. The author might have taken better instruction from Octavian, who knew enough not to diminish his own heroism by failing to give the devil his due.

But it isn't just Antony that she does this to. When characters fail in their attempts, it's never because of bad fortune or undeserved betrayals. It's because they were stupid, venal, evil, or cowardly. The only exceptions to this are Caesar and Octavian whose failures the author attributes to someone else's incompetence or ingratitude.

Octavian is presented as our new deity. But even the author seems to sense that she's gone too far in using asthma to excuse Octavian's battlefield cowardice, for she discusses it in her end notes. It remains disappointing in spite of the explanation. Every Roman would have thought asthma was a pansy ass excuse, and since the author steeps the reader in Roman values from page one, so do we.

You won't learn much about Cleopatra and her relationship to Caesar in this book, and what you do learn is a bit suspect. It's not the author's scholarship that is the problem (that is impeccable, deep, and awe inspiring), it's her interpretation. First, we have Cleopatra obsessed with incest. Historically, Ptolemy incest was more pragmatic than religious, and Cleopatra herself was not of pure blood. Moreover, Cleopatra set her own rules. She rid herself of both brothers at her earliest opportunity, married two Romans, and betrothed her son to a foreign princess. Consequently, the author's incest subplot is unlikely. Moreover, it spawns a somewhat nonsensical explanation of why Cleopatra took Antony as a lover when more conventional explanations will do.

As presented, the relationship between Caesar and Cleopatra boils down to 'Hideously Ugly and Foolish Egyptian Queen is Madly in Love with Caesar who is Somewhat Fond of Her'. To support this theory the author has to resort to some eye-roll inducing tactics including withheld ejaculations. To explain away the highly symbolic act of having placed a statue of Cleopatra portrayed as a Goddess within the temple of Venus Genetrix, the author has Caesar give a flippant answer. He says that the statue was a gift from Cleopatra made of solid gold, and Caesar wouldn't have wanted some passerby to try to shave gold off of it. (Stuff it in your closet next time, Gaius!)

Cleopatra almost disappears entirely from the book after Caesar's death, which occurs halfway through. This is somewhat of a relief, because it is in the portrayal of Cleopatra that the author most clearly skirts the line between Historical Fiction and Historical Fantasy.

The book is really about Octavian anyhow. We remain in Rome, watching it disintegrate into turf wars between warlords pretending there is still some kind of Constitution (and that, in itself, is something rather interesting from a political point of view).

Of the series, the author's prose is best in this last book. The pacing is good, the shifts in point of view are done in a much more elegant fashion, and she is more careful with name dropping. The history is fascinating, and even if you don't agree with her interpretations, the sheer amount of data she presents is staggering. In this book, she finally shines as someone who can bring history into living detail for the layperson; in spite of my complaints, it gripped me from start to finish. It's a book that everyone should read, because it helps to explain the underpinnings of Western Society, and it does it better than any history book might.

Read it. Love it. Take it with a grain of salt.

Rating:
Summary: Amazing climax to the Caeser series
Review: Caeser is dead! Oh the horror! But I knew it was coming, of course. History tells us how Caeser died, but Mrs. McCollough SHOWS us. Thankfully, we get a full dose of Caeser's great mind before that fateful day in the Senate.

The prime movers and shakers in this wonderful climax are Caeser, Cleopatra, Brutus, Marcus Antonius, and Octavian.

Caeser's Rome is coming together just as the great man had planned. The city coffers are full, the hungry are eating, most of Rome's enemies have been cowed and civil wars have been avoided. But all under the hand of Caeser, Rome's 'Dictator for Life.' Those men who wish to advance their careers and dignitas can only do so at the whim of Caeser's ample mind. So, a group of "Liberators" decide to end Caeser's rule by killing him.

A good portion of the book takes place in Rome during the intervening months prior to Caeser's assasination. What's amazing is how involved you become, knowing that Caeser MUST fall. But what of Rome? What will happen to her once he's gone? The assasins don't take this into account and thus, once Rome's Dictator is dead, she falls into chaos...

Only to be brought back from the brink by the smiling, pretty-boy heir to Caeser's fortune, Octavian. Amazingly, Octavian isn't a soldier or a very powerful man. But what he does have is an incredible mind and a head for politics. He knows how to manipulate men, and how to keep alive the memory of Caeser within himself. Rome has a way to go before she falls again. But, as history tells us, fall she will. Although we never witness it in this book, we can begin to see the downfall of a great empire. But not until Octavian has had a chance!

A wonderful book for those with an interest in history, and quite lengthy at over 700 pages. All in all, I'd say it's a very worthy read.

A- rating.

Rating:
Summary: A Fitting End to the Series
Review: Colleen McCullough has entertained and educated millions to the intricacies of politics in the late Roman Republic, and her touch hasn't failed in this last and perhaps most difficult of her books. Caesar has illumined the series from its first book, although Marius, Sulla, and the robust characters of the early books rightly took center stage. Caesar is McCullough's conduit character through whose eyes and actions much of the collapse of the Republic occurs. Now she must deal with his murder. How to do this and yet keep the flow of the book going?

We all know what will happen on the Ides of March, but it's how to do it that presents the challenge. I thoroughly enjoyed how McCullough deals with every aspect of Caesar's last years. She handles his achievements and disappointments fairly and, interestingly, comes up with arguable explanations for many of Caesar's last actions which argue that he never intended, indeed, to become king, and does wonderfully drawing the various sordid and idealistic motives (more of the former than latter) which motivated the assassins. As usual, the plot is action-packed, the characters vivid and varied, and based upon substantial research into original historical sources. Caesar's murder is so well done that you almost forget how the action will end.

McCullough takes risks in her portrayal of several characters, but has enough understanding of the sources to back herself up. Cleopatra's character and her love affair with Caesar - which, during the Egyptian war, essentially takes up the first third of the book - is the antithesis of conventional Hollywood casting, but the Queen is far more compelling than any mere sex kitten. Caesar's motivations are similarly not romanticized. Brutus, Cassius, Decimus Brutus, Antony . . . all but the latter follow patterns discernable in earlier books, but McCullough takes major risks with her reading of Antony's character and - while I don't quite agree - it makes a great deal of sense in terms of the known history. Finally, Cato - whom I've always loathed - becomes almost a sympathetic character in his final great days and much relatively obscure history is made fresh and vivid while doing so. And even clucking, insecure Cicero will find his finest hour in this book.

One by one we watch the beloved familiar characters exit the stage. One by one, McCullough sketches the new world that will soon control Rome now that Caesar is gone. Of these, her triumph is her portrayal of young Octavius Caesar, soon to become Octavian, later Augustus. She makes him as fascinating a character as the young Caesar, although very different. Her insights into his character, courage, and weaknesses strikes me as remarkably perceptive. You find yourself wishing she'd write another six books to carry us through the long Augustan age, and yet she finds a natural FINIS to her saga following the Battle of Phillippi, when Caesar's death is avenged and the obvious struggle between Antony and Octavian is prefigured.

Altogether a fine book, and a fitting farewell to her remarkable six-volume portrayal of the dying Republic.

Suzanne Cross
Web Author, Julius Caesar: The Last Dictator

Rating:
Summary: Misleading
Review: Don't get me wrong, I love Colleen McCullough's writing. She uses meticulous research to write her books, and it shows. The Masters of Rome series is (for the most part) realistic and well-written.

I'm just saying, if you read it, don't expect a novel of Caesar and Cleopatra, is all. I think I saw her enter into the novel a couple of times, but I'm not sure; it was all over so quickly. What's worse is that Cleopatra is translated into novel form half-heartedly at best, and at worst, the reader ends up hating the weak-willed, spiteful little thing. In short, McCullough's passion for Caesar is all-encompassing and blinding, and the other characters end up looking a little, well, dim.

In other words, if you're willing to accept Marcus Antonius as satan and Octavian as a savior, you may like this book. But I think some of the reasoning falls through, and that's why this book falls short of the glory of the rest of the Masters of Rome series.

Rating:
Summary: Misleading
Review: Don't get me wrong, I love Colleen McCullough's writing. She uses meticulous research to write her books, and it shows. The Masters of Rome series is (for the most part) realistic and well-written.

I'm just saying, if you read it, don't expect a novel of Caesar and Cleopatra, is all. I think I saw her enter into the novel a couple of times, but I'm not sure; it was all over so quickly. What's worse is that Cleopatra is translated into novel form half-heartedly at best, and at worst, the reader ends up hating the weak-willed, spiteful little thing. In short, McCullough's passion for Caesar is all-encompassing and blinding, and the other characters end up looking a little, well, dim.

In other words, if you're willing to accept Marcus Antonius as satan and Octavian as a savior, you may like this book. But I think some of the reasoning falls through, and that's why this book falls short of the glory of the rest of the Masters of Rome series.