Catilina's Riddle

Catilina's Riddle by Steven Saylor
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I am a huge fan of Steven Saylor, and would argue that he writes beautiful prose, creates brilliant characters and gripping plots, and manages to paint Rome in the time of Cicero so it comes to life before your eyes without his ever labouring over the history. Unfortunately none of that applies to this book.
Many stories (hero sagas in particular) begin with a “call to action”—the hero refuses to answer the call and then Fate (or the gods) must intervene to force his or her hand. Gordianus, the narrator, spends the first seventh of this novel resisting the call—so much of it, in fact, that I began get annoyed with him and, worse, to dislike him for his dithering. At over 700 pages, it’s certainly long a book, not least because it is bulked out by interminable, endlessly repetitive speeches by Cicero (and, to a lesser extent, Catalina)—not a good move, even if they are based on the historical record. Much of the political background (and, towards the end, even some of the action) is delivered via conversations overheard by Gordianus as he moves through the streets of Rome—not snatches, mind you, but lengthy, 10-minute dialogues between strangers—typically “a farmer” and “a merchant” who conveniently represent opposing points of view. One early example of this has an unnamed orator discussing Otho’s law and Rullan land reform with a heckler in the Forum. That one ran for a whole ten pages. It’s a device that tried my patience and quickly wore thin, and I ended up willing Gordianus to move on so that Meto could get his augury read. This was the important bit, after all. If we’re meant to care about Meto, then that was what we were interested in.
So is there anything good about this book? Well, it’s great to meet all the old characters again, though of all of them only Rufus and maybe Marcus Mummius manage to shine above the barrage of all that history. The others seem mired in it. Not that the history is all bad; though it’s a little forced, I’ve never seen anyone else try to explain how the various public offices (e.g. praetor, consul, etc.) worked, or why people would ever wish to run for them, given that they do so at their own—often crippling—expense. It was interesting to compare the election in which Meto votes with the ill-judged snap election called by Theresa May, which just so happened to take place at the same ttime I was reading that section. Gordianus’s relationship with his come-of-age son—as well as notions of what actually constitutes family—are delicately and masterfully explored. It should have driven the book. Unfortunately history is allowed to get in the way.
My final gripe probably seems trivial and petty by comparison; it’s not. At the beginning of Part Two, Gordianus is sharing a wineskin with his eldest son, Eco. On page 115, it lies “flattened and empty” on the grass between them; by page 119, they’re passing it back and forth again, presumably guzzling down its contents. It’s details like this that can destroy the reader’s mental image of a scene in a heartbeat.
One for the staunchest fans only and determined completists, I fear. Do yourself a favour and read “Arms of Nemesis” instead. It’s the one I requested. It’s just a pity it wasn’t available.
But that’s just my own humble opinion…what do you think? Do let me know!

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