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tommyholland 's review for:
Augustus
by John Williams
A fascinating reconstruction of Rome and Augustus told entirely through fictional letters from friends, enemies, and acquaintances of the titular Emperor. As a history nerd, I loved the imagined insights into many of the figures we hear from (notably Julia, Nicolaus of Damascus, Horace, Ovid, Marcus Agrippa, and Maecenas), and the withholding of Augustus’ perspective until the very end was especially effective.
The history of Rome being such a difficult thing to construct (and often requires lots of interpretation and narrativizing), I was completely rapt by the narrative being constructed in such a challenging, unconventional, yet free-flowing and cohesive method. I was really taken aback with how emotionally resolute this ended up being, really tying up the ideas of ambition, the pursuance of virtue vs personal desire, and the perceived self vs the true self being at odds with each other. What really gets to me at the end is the acceptance of one’s mortality and the questioning of what gives one’s life meaning, which the book answers in a rather optimistic way. It is not the great feats that endure the test of the time, but the pursuit of love - of one another, of ideas and knowledge, and of one’s own purpose - that gives life meaning.
“I have come to believe that in the life of every man, late or soon, there is a moment when he knows beyond whatever else he might understand, and whether he can articulate the knowledge or not, the terrifying fact that he is alone, and separate, and that he can be no other than the poor thing that is himself.”
The history of Rome being such a difficult thing to construct (and often requires lots of interpretation and narrativizing), I was completely rapt by the narrative being constructed in such a challenging, unconventional, yet free-flowing and cohesive method. I was really taken aback with how emotionally resolute this ended up being, really tying up the ideas of ambition, the pursuance of virtue vs personal desire, and the perceived self vs the true self being at odds with each other. What really gets to me at the end is the acceptance of one’s mortality and the questioning of what gives one’s life meaning, which the book answers in a rather optimistic way. It is not the great feats that endure the test of the time, but the pursuit of love - of one another, of ideas and knowledge, and of one’s own purpose - that gives life meaning.
“I have come to believe that in the life of every man, late or soon, there is a moment when he knows beyond whatever else he might understand, and whether he can articulate the knowledge or not, the terrifying fact that he is alone, and separate, and that he can be no other than the poor thing that is himself.”