Amazon.co.uk Review
Emperor - Field of Swords takes Colin Iggulden's sequence of novels about the rise of Julius Caesar to a point where Caesar is forced to bid for mastery of the Roman world. Iggulden is intelligent and precise about the internal dynamics of the triumvirate of Caesar, the elderly rich Crassus and the proud Pompey. This alliance was never more than pragmatic and there was always going to be a settling of accounts--thus far so good, but Iggulden's idealizing of Caesar leads him at times into ignoring the sheer complexity of the affairs of the late Republic. This is a version of Rome which downplays the alliance of street and snob, and treats Caesar as if he were always an apostle of order--it is a historical novel which plays worrying games with historical fact.
Iggulden is fascinating on Caesar as governor and general--in the areas, that is, where we have the words of the man himself, rather than the spin put on his actions by his enemies. There is a real sense here of the practicalities of ancient warfare, of hard footslogging in difficult terrain and planning supplies for the long haul of sieges and forced marches - Iggulden may oversimplify politics, but he is intelligent about battle. --Roz Kaveney
Review
'If you liked Gladiator, you'll love Emperor' The Times 'A brilliant story -- I wish I'd written it. A novel of vivid characters, stunning action and unrelenting pace. It really is a terrific read.' Bernard Cornwell 'The great events and breathtaking brutality of the times are brought lavishly to life.' Guardian
The third volume in the successful Emperor series find Julius Caesar and his friend Marcus Brutus running the Roman colonies in Spain. They are far from home and as the years pass they dream more about the Rome they have left behind. Caesar goes on to conquests in France and Britain and it seems his stock has never been higher, but there are growing cracks in his friendship with Brutus and also family squabbles to sort out. Political intrigue, corruption and armed rebellions all give this ancient tale a contemporary feel but Iggulden's graphic writing places his readers firmly in the Roman world of 2000 years ago. He weaves a tantalising and thrilling tale that combines history and imagination, and brings to life the characters that previously we have known only from textbooks and ancient sculptures. A real page-turner. (Kirkus UK)
Gaius Julius Caesar is back in the third of Iggulden's projected tetralogy (Emperor: The Death of Kings, 2004, etc.), and he's kicking Gallic butt and taking unpronounceable names. It's midpoint in the first century b.c. Having ranged widely throughout the eastern stretches of the Roman Empire, having put down slave revolts and attempted coups, having come and seen and conquered much of the known world, Caesar is still far from Rome, where fellow triumvirs Pompey and Crassus are enjoying Falernian wine and the other delicacies of the capital. Caesar has work to do, though, before he can join in the fun: when this installment opens, he's in Spain among men who, unaccountably, bear modern Spanish names, but soon he's in the field battling rebellious Romans and then off to the north to attend to successive swarms of Germanic and Celtic warriors, all with points of their own to prove. Iggulden has read Caesar's Gallic Warscarefully, and most of the particulars here are supported, or at least hinted at, by the soon-to-be capo, who had the uncommon virtue of self-criticism and a good eye for detail. Where Iggulden really shines, though, is in putting flesh on historical bones and reading between the lines, providing, along the way, motives for old Brutus to be ticked off, not least of them a few costly tactical errors: "Brutus looked over the heads of his men, his heart pounding with anger. If he survived the retreat, he swore Julius would pay for the destruction of the Tenth." Brutus holds his anger in check, however, and he and his fellow soldiers have many a merry day slaughtering everything they see; think of the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan, and you'll have a good idea of the tenor of Iggulden's expertly rendered-and unfailingly exciting-battles. Less psychologically sophisticated than the granddaddy of all Roman historical fiction, Robert Graves's I, Claudius, but a pleasure for those for whom the words "alea jacta est" mean something. (Kirkus Reviews)
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